Four Little Problems. Carrie Weaver

I can at least do what my conscience says is right.”

      Nancy squeezed her arm. “Let’s look on the bright side. Maybe her fabulous spring fund-raiser will bring in so much money, you’ll be able to please everyone.”

      Emily nodded. “Maybe.”

      But as a single mom on a tight budget, she knew all too well there was rarely enough money to go around and someone always ended up mad. And it was starting to look like Patrick Stevens might be the angry one if the PTO budget was tight.

      PATRICK ARRIVED at school well before the first bell. It had become a tradition.

      And sure enough, he saw two figures huddled in the doorway, their thin coats probably affording very little warmth. It had been a mild winter for upstate New York, but mornings were still chilly. “Hey Ari, Kat. You look like you could use some hot chocolate.”

      The two kids turned, nodding.

      “The usual spot?” he asked.

      They nodded again, following him to a bench near the doors.

      Though Patrick walked slowly, he still reached the bench before them. He turned and waited.

      Ari’s gait was erratic, one foot turned inward. His twin sister, Kat, slowed her pace to match his.

      Patrick swallowed hard as he remembered another boy with a less pronounced pigeon-toed gait. A boy who had once run, laughed and played, but was developmentally little more than a toddler now.

      He pushed the thought away. He couldn’t take that trip down memory lane.

      When they’d settled themselves on the bench, Patrick withdrew a thermos from his backpack. He would have preferred a strong cup of coffee, but this ritual was for Ari and Kat.

      He poured the steaming mixture into three cups.

      The children waited patiently while he handed them each a foam cup.

      The expressions in their huge, dark eyes were unreadable. Someone’s stomach growled.

      “I hope you guys will help me out.” He withdrew a packet from his backpack. “I have these muffins that will go stale if someone doesn’t eat them. I thought maybe you two could help.”

      “Yes, Mr. Stevens, we’ll help.” Kat spoke for both of them as she often did.

      “Good.” He handed them each a banana-oat muffin, wishing it was a four-course hot breakfast. Their parents were immigrants, both working sixteen-hour days to make ends meet. Sometimes, he suspected there wasn’t enough food in the house.

      Patrick sipped his hot cocoa, wondering if the kids thought it strange they didn’t go inside where it was warm. But they never asked, so he was spared explaining that it wasn’t prudent for a teacher to show a special interest in a child behind closed doors. He could understand the practical reasons, but it still saddened him.

      Instead, they sat, shivering, right in front of the school, where they were appropriately supervised by anyone who might drive or walk by.

      “I read…the book,” Ari said. His speech was a bit slow because of cerebral palsy, but his mind was sharp. He’d been mainstreamed several years back and had done fine. Of course, he also had his own personal guardian angel in the form of Kat.

      “What did you think of the book, Ari?”

      “Dolphins are smart and nice,” he enunciated slowly.

      “Yes, they’re good animals. There are lots of true stories of dolphins keeping humans from drowning.” Funny, how he could say the word drowning without even flinching. Progress perhaps?

      Ari’s eyes were bright with excitement. “I…will…swim with the dolphins. At Sea World.”

      The thought made Patrick’s stomach churn.

      “Sure, we’ll see the dolphins. I think you can even pet them from a boat.”

      “No.” His reply was emphatic. “Swim.”

      Anything but that.

      For the first time he could remember, Patrick ignored Ari. “What about you, Kat, did you read the book?”

      “Yes.”

      “Do you want to see the dolphins and penguins?”

      She hesitated, as if afraid to believe in something that would turn out to be a fairy tale. “I’ll go if Ari goes.”

      “Good. You guys worked really hard at the car wash.”

      There was no way in hell he’d allow this trip to die. He’d promised all the sixth-graders, but most importantly, he’d promised Ari and Kat.

      Emily Patterson would just have to do the right thing.

      EMILY SIGHED when she hung up the phone, eyeing her overflowing In basket. Now she knew why it was mostly stay-at-home moms who were PTO presidents. She was in the unenviable position of having to ask to leave early two days in a row.

      She found her boss in her office. “Olivia, the principal from the school called and wants to meet with me.”

      Olivia gave her a pitying look. She probably assumed it was about Jason again.

      Emily’s conscience twinged, but she didn’t correct her. She didn’t want her job jeopardized because of her PTO position.

      Fortunately, Olivia was understanding. “Voice mail can pick up the phones. And you said you’d work through your lunch hour tomorrow?”

      “Yes, I will. Thanks a bunch, Olivia.”

      Her boss nodded. “Go.”

      Emily grabbed her purse, forwarded the phones and left in a matter of minutes. She was breathless when she reached Principal Ross’s office, following Patrick through the door.

      “Good, you’re both here,” the principal said. “Please close the door.”

      Emily’s heart sank.

      “Please, sit.” The woman sat behind her desk and nodded toward two chairs.

      Patrick pulled out one of the chairs slightly and gestured for her to sit down.

      His courtesy flustered her.

      But she sat.

      And so did he, in the chair next to her. They were practically knee-to-knee in the small office.

      Principal Ross cleared her throat. “What I have to say is rather difficult. I expect it to stay in this room. Not to be repeated to anyone.”

      “Of course,” Patrick said.

      “Yes, of course,” Emily murmured, aware that she’d probably already shared too much with Nancy. But Nancy was discreet and wouldn’t repeat the information.

      “I spent several hours at the bank today. The PTO account was in complete disarray. But the gist is, there’s only a few dollars left.”

      Patrick stiffened. “There’s got to be some mistake.”

      “I’m sorry, there’s no mistake. The branch manager checked and rechecked the figures while I was there. I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to contact the police.”

      “Do you have any idea where the money went?” Emily asked.

      Marilyn Ross’s mouth turned down at the corners. For a moment, Emily was afraid she might cry.

      “I guess I can go ahead and tell you. There were several sizeable cash withdrawals made over the past three months. During the time that Tiffany Bigelow was sole signatory.”

      Patrick swore under his breath.

      Emily silently agreed.

      “So I’m in the unenviable position of heaping more grief on the Bigelow family.”

      “What