Chapter Ten

Nicholas was back at the house, at "Plumfield" as Natasha had insisted on calling it, from the moment they first opened the front door and saw the long narrow staircase and the cherry handrail with the elegant curl at the bottom. If he had read "Little Men," he would have had a sense of what implications that name carried, but he said yes to Plumfield even before they told the realtor they'd take it.

Furnished with cast-offs and the occasional actual antique, it was filled with light on this spring day around noon. In the middle of the week, no one came by the salvage yard until late afternoon or evening, and their official hours were weekends, with various private contractors who just knew to call Nicholas and arrange a time to come look for or just get what they already knew they wanted. He was home for a leisurely lunch, since he didn't tend to keep much food in the little fridge back at the office except the coffee supplies for AA & church.

So when the phone buzzed, he didn't check the number, assuming it was one of his now numerous builder friends looking for a mantelpiece or big gilt-framed mirror or some other item only available around here at the shop.

"Nicholas speaking."

"Nicholas, Mr. Barkley calling. Your daughters are fine, everything's fine..." said the high school principal in a rush, "...but there's something I'd like to talk to you about in the office if I could. It's regarding Susie."

Nicholas paused a moment, letting the surge of anxiety and relief and now worry wash back and forth until he reached a moment of calm, or at least equillibrium. "Certainly. When should I..."

"Oh, Nicholas, there's no rush. It's not something all that problematic, just that I'd rather not talk about it over the phone."

"I can be there in five minutes, though, if you..."

"That would be great. Thanks; I'll see you shortly."

They hung up after the usual stuttered pleasantries of ending a call. Nicholas looked out the window, made certain the world was not spinning un-naturally, and then thought "it's not all that problematic." And then "but I'm going in to the principal's office." And then "why didn't he..."

All the way back out the door, down through Upper Sharon, and on to the turn onto Welsh Hills Road toward the high school, Nicholas kept trying to finish that thought. The principal should have... something. Something other than how he.... right. Until he met with him, and found out what the situation with Susie was, he couldn't answer the question of how the principal should have handled that call. Which he probably did as well as could be expected, but still.

Navigating the curves through the trees, heading toward the school, he kept rumbling about in his worries and potential concerns: grades? No, that's not it. A fight? She's just not the type. Is there such a thing as a type for -- of course there is. Did some other girl, some "mean girl," hit her? That wouldn't be the way a principal would address that, would it?

The ruminations and stomach twisting continued until he parked; as he walked up to the door of the high school, the ruminations stopped and the stomach twisting doubled. Like when he drove up to the county hospital, when... stop it. This is not that. This is definitely not that.

Nicholas pressed the security buzzer, and heard the click as the secretary activated the lock from her desk; he pulled the door open, and went on inside.