Bayview Heights Trilogy (39 page)

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FORTY MINUTES LATER, Seth smiled with
satisfaction at the blackboard—covered with ideas and suggestions.
“Great job, Darce,” he said to the young girl he’d singled out to
write the suggestions on the board. “You can sit back down. Now,
let’s highlight the areas we might want to pursue.”

Linc McKenna, the guidance counselor, spoke
first. “It looks to me like there are four or five groupings here.
For instance, the inability of youngsters to control their anger,
lack of social skills and face-to-face confrontations all suggest a
need to set up some kind of counseling groups for the kids who have
problems.”

Barbara Sherman, the psychologist, added, “I
checked with other schools like you asked, Seth. They run
anger-control groups. We could look into that further.”

“A subcommittee you and Linc should head,
then,” he said, smiling.

Zoe Caufield, the teacher, focused on what
the staff could do, since the concerns indicated there needed to be
better supervision in the halls and large congregating areas. “Why
don’t you and Alex head that subcommittee?” Seth asked her.

“I’d like to be on that one,” Bosco said. “We
aren’t social workers and I don’t want teachers committed to things
that we aren’t ready to deal with. Personally, I’d like to see
armed guards in here.”

Seth caught Alex’s glare and Zoe’s scowl.

“I doubt we need to go that far,” Seth put
in. “But we could use more hall monitors and security guards.”

Board member Leonard Small piped up with,
“Staffing is not our job. Our hands are tied there.”

Leaning back, Seth crossed his arms over his
chest. “But maybe you could look into it for next year’s budget,
Leonard, and see about recommending additional help to the Board of
Education.”

Small frowned but nodded.

Two more subcommittees, one on community
input and one on the role of students, were up for grabs. Don
Hopkins and Monica volunteered for the community subcommittee. Seth
looked at Darcy then Nick. “You two should be on the student
subcommittee. We’re investigating peer mediation right now with the
student government, but other kinds of student groups might be
appropriate for Bayview.”

“You want us to work together again?” Darcy
asked.

“Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Seth bit back a
grin. “I’d like to be on that one, too.” He looked at Lacey. “Want
to be on the student subcommittee with us?”

Her eyes widened. He didn’t need X-ray vision
to figure out what was going on in that pretty little head of hers.
Another committee? With you? Did she think he was keeping tabs on
her? Was he? “All right,” she said finally.

Seth smiled approvingly at her, then glanced
at his watch. “Good. Let’s look at the agenda and see what we’ve
accomplished.” He stood and went to the board. Checking off each
item as he spoke, he said, “Tonight we brainstormed reasons why
kids are violent, and proposed responses the school could take.
Then we set up committees. Anyone want to add anything?”

Monica raised a hand. “I want to know what
Ms. Cartwright is going to put in her paper about the task
force.”

Lacey cleared her throat. “I’d like to
publish everyone’s name, if that’s okay. Then I’ll report what we
did.”

“And criticize us?

“No, I’ll be impartial, Monica,” Lacey said,
staring down the other woman.

Seth liked her grit—particularly when it
wasn’t directed at him. Monica had made things very uncomfortable
for Lacey.

“That’s it then,” Seth said. “Thanks for
coming. See you next week. Same time, same place.”

As everyone rose to leave, Seth watched Linc
McKenna approach Lacey. The guidance counselor’s smile was warm and
interested. Casually, he took Lacey by the elbow and steered her
toward the door, speaking too softly for Seth to hear. Seth
recalled that McKenna, who was divorced, had quite a reputation
with the ladies. Looked as though he was going in for the kill.

Well, maybe some diversion would keep Ms.
Cartwright off Seth’s back. If she had a man in her life, she might
be too busy to make trouble for the school. But after Seth had bid
everyone goodbye, he couldn’t rid his mind of the image of McKenna
touching Lacey’s arm.

Back in his office, Seth sat down at his
computer to write a memo recapping what had happened at the
meeting. It was slow going, because he kept thinking about Lacey
and...

“Seth?”

He looked up into the bright and very pretty
eyes of the woman occupying his thoughts. “Lacey. I thought you’d
left.”

“I came back for a minute.”

“Oh. Why?”

She grasped her purse and shifted uneasily.
“I wanted to tell you how impressed I was with how you ran the
meeting.”

“Really?”

She smiled, and Seth felt something inside
him soften. “Yes, I’ve been on a ton of committees that take
forever to get off the ground.”

“Oh, well, good. I mean, I’m glad you were
pleased with this one.” Geez, he was stammering.

“And thanks for running interference. I
forced my way onto the committee. You could have thrown me to the
wolves but you didn’t.”

“I’d never do that, Lacey.”

She cocked her head. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Cautious, he shrugged. He didn’t trust her
enough to tell her he was having second thoughts about what he’d
done to her brother, that the Tim Johnson incident may have caused
him to overreact. He knew he couldn’t confess that he didn’t want
anything else to happen to her family because of him. So he chose
humor. “Superheroes don’t do that to the good guys.”

She smiled at the reference. “In any case,
thanks.” She glanced down at his computer. “Aren’t you
leaving?”

“In a while. I want to sum up what happened
tonight before I forget it.”

She glanced meaningfully at the clock. “You
really do have a superhero complex, don’t you?”

“Nah, I’m just an average guy in real
life.”

“Good night, then.”

“Good night.” Lacey turned to go.
“Lacey?”

She faced him.

“Thanks for coming back to tell me this. It
helps.”

“You’re welcome.” And she was gone.

Swiveling his chair away from the computer,
Seth linked his hands behind his head and propped his feet up on
the desk. “Now, I wonder what that was all about?” he said
aloud.

The bad news: the high
school is having a problem with violence.

The good news:
concerned administrators, students, teachers and community members
have formed a committee to do something about it.

The bad news: there
was another fight this week at the high school.

The good news: the
committee has a four-step plan almost ready to implement, and
subcommittees are meeting next week.

What do you think?

LACEY STARED at the School Page of this
week’s edition of the
Herald
. Philip hadn’t been pleased
at all. After Monday’s confrontation, she’d talked with him about
her feelings that the paper had been presenting only one side of
what was happening at the high school—the negative one. She’d also
told him she planned to write both this editorial and a report on
the Good Deeds Project for Wednesday’s edition.

He’d been adamant that the
Herald’s
criticism was justly deserved. She’d been equally adamant that the
teachers and students deserved more. They deserved to have the
positive things happening at the school reported as well.

When he’d still balked, she’d told him if she
was going to stay in Bayview and run the paper, she had to do it
her way. That comment had done the trick; he’d stared at her for a
long time, then let it go. But the hurt look on his face almost
made her give in. She knew she’d let him down, and after all he’d
done for her, she hated to disappoint him. But ultimately, she’d
stood her ground.

She glanced down to the bottom of the School
Page at the sidebar entitled Christmas Good Deeds Project. There,
Lacey had given an overview of the whole project. Each week until
the holiday, she told her readers, she planned to report the
Christmas activities of the entire school in general, and her
subcommittee in particular. Truthfully, she loved the idea and felt
that including the small articles would be a real morale booster to
the community, to the school...and to Seth Taylor.

Not that she was out to please him, Lacey
thought. Images of his skill and aplomb in running the task force
had filtered into her mind since Monday. She also remembered how he
looked smiling up at Monica Matthews. She wondered if they were
dating. Were they sleeping together?

Uncomfortable with the direction of her
thoughts. Lacey nonetheless admitted she’d been wondering a lot
about Seth Taylor all week. She glanced at her computer, then the
clock. She had to meet Cassie at The Spaghetti House—one of their
old haunts—for dinner in an hour. What the hell? She’d resisted
going back to Philip’s files the day of her first visit to the high
school, but tonight, curiosity got the better of her. She booted up
the file.

She started at the beginning. S. Taylor.
Biographical information. It was in report form, neatly listed:
Seth Jacob Taylor, born 1952, Binghamton, New York. Mother Anna
Lewis Taylor, father, Mark Taylor.

She read on. His father had worked for
General Electric, his mother was an elementary-school teacher. Mark
Taylor had died when Seth was nine. Two younger sisters, Kara
Taylor Lang, Patrice Taylor Cooper. Both married, two children
each, now living in Phoenix and Seattle, respectively.

Seth’s mother still resided in Binghamton.
He’d attended school in the small Southern Tier city. The report
listed his activities. Lacey chuckled when she saw he’d been editor
of both his high school newspaper and literary magazine. He’d won
the high school English prize and several athletic awards for
track. He’d gone on to Geneseo State College where he’d continued
running but he also played club hockey. He’d worked on the
college’s literary magazine, graduated magna cum laude.
Impressive
.

The report noted his marriage to Connie
Grover, whom he’d met at Geneseo. They had a son, Joseph, born six
years after their marriage. His wife had died of an aneurysm five
years later.
How sad
.

According to this report, Seth hadn’t dated
for a long time after his wife’s death. Then there was a list of
women he’d taken out. The P.I. had been thorough. Lacey scanned
down. Monica Matthews’s name wasn’t there. This section ended a
year ago.

Quickly, Lacey booted up S. Taylor,
Professional Information. He’d come to Bayview Heights after
traveling through Europe following college. She tracked the events
of his teaching career—graduate degrees, committees he’d been on,
when he became principal.

Then there was a separate professional
section that stopped her cold. It included names. Dates. Specific
events. One read: Student, Cassie Smith, and gave her address as of
a year ago. Then there was a blurb on Taylor’s role in her life.
Lacey shivered. This was very personal, and very private. Poor
Cassie.

The list continued, naming several students
after Cassie. They were all in the same vein. J. L. Tyson,
valedictorian, 1982. Location as of two years ago, present
occupation. Then Seth’s role—he’d apparently intervened in a
suicide attempt and saved the boy’s life.

There were teachers, parents and
administrators named, too. All painstakingly documented with
location, present circumstances, Taylor’s role in their lives.

Lacey sat back in her chair. It didn’t make
sense. Why would Philip pay a private investigator to gather this
good information on Seth? With the exception of Kevin and a few
other difficult students, everything reported was an accolade.

She clicked on the last icon—correspondence
with P.I. Scrolling through, she read Philip’s initial request to
dig into Seth’s life, summaries of the P.I.’s responses and copies
of his reports. The last letter, dated a few months before Philip’s
heart attack, read:

Dear Mr. Cartwright,

Enclosed is the latest report on Taylor.
Unfortunately, there is little in the negative column. This
represents almost six months of investigation...

Fascinated, Lacey scanned the rest of the
document. Mostly, though, she was appalled at this invasion of
Seth’s privacy, and the privacy of all the other people whose lives
he’d touched. Philip’s obsession with Seth was much greater than
Lacey had realized. Her heart sank when she admitted her
grandfather was clearly looking for a way to hurt the high-school
principal.

But he hadn’t found it.

Lacey checked the clock. It was time to meet
Cassie. She closed down the computer and grabbed her things. She’d
changed into jeans, a designer sweatshirt and low-heeled black
boots to be comfortable. Donning her suede jacket, she decided the
walk to the restaurant would clear her head.

Outside, the early November air had turned
cool. As she made her way along the few blocks, she was bombarded
by conflicting feelings about what she’d read. Anger at Philip was
among them. So was respect for Seth. Both emotions made her
uncomfortable.

When she arrived at The Spaghetti House,
Cassie was already there, studying the menu.

“Hi,” Lacey said as she reached the
table.

Cassie looked up and smiled. “Hi.” She took
Lacey’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m so glad we followed through on
dinner this time. I’d get up and hug you, but I had a hell of a
time getting into this booth to begin with.” She nodded to the
other side. “Sit down.”

Shedding her jacket, Lacey slid onto the
bench opposite Cassie. “You look wonderful,” Lacey said.
“You...glow.”

Cassie rolled her eyes, but the smile
remained intact. “I know. Isn’t it embarrassing? I go around
grinning like an idiot.”