Cold River (22 page)

“It’s the way a school district in Washington raises money for things the state doesn’t fund. New school busses, special programs, things like that.”

She eyed Grange. “Like music?”

He shook his head. “We’ve got that covered elsewhere.” He nodded toward the folder. “We need to get on this right away. Form a parent committee, submit a budget to them— a compromise between what you’d like to have and what you think the voters will approve.”

“So it’s like a bond election?”

“Yes, without the bonds. It’s to levy a tax to support schools. An election where people vote to tax themselves.”

“Who has done this in the past? Who knows how to do it and could do a good job of pulling it all together?”

The corners of Grange’s mouth lifted wickedly, and there was a twinkle in his eye as he stood. “Nettie Maypole has headed up the levy for the last fifteen years.”

“Nettie Maypole? The Yum Yum Potatoes lady?”

He nodded and paused as Mandy absorbed all the implications of the situation. Then he said, “Well, I’m off to the high school now, unless you have something else you want to discuss.”

She gritted her teeth as she saw how much Grange enjoyed her discomfort. “No thanks. That’s all.” Ignoring him, she began to read the contents of the folder he had brought. When she was sure he was out of the room, she slammed the folder closed and dug her planner out of her purse. Looking through the notes she had made in her calendar at the job fair in Las Vegas, she found the phone number of the man who had acted as agent for North Cascades School District. She used her phone card to make the call.

“Hello? Mr. Skinner? This is Mandy Steenburg. I met you at the job fair in Las Vegas last February. You hired me for the North Cascade School District. Yes, I was the tiny one. Yes, the young one too. Well, it’s a bit of a difficult situation, actually, because it seems they just wanted a figurehead. The former superintendent is my assistant, only he’s not. I was wondering if the job in Chevak is still open?”

Mandy listened for a moment and said, “No, I’m not applying for the position. I just wanted to know if it was still a possibility. I realize it looks bad for me to be leaving this situation so soon, but… No, I think I can be released from my contract. Two members of the school board don’t want me here anyway. Yes, thank you, Mr. Skinner. I’ll let you know.”

She sighed and hung up. Turning back to her computer, she tried to rekindle her enthusiasm for finding a grant for her reading program, but it was heavy going. Finally, she picked up the yellow phone card, found Midge’s number, and invited her up.

At first, the woman was cool to the idea of being put in charge of securing a grant. She’d had no training and didn’t completely understand the process, but as Mandy talked with her and promised to support her, Midge grew willing, even excited, to try again. She went back to her desk with the name of the website, a list of preliminary instructions, and an appointment to meet with Mandy on Monday afternoon to look over what she had done to that point.

After Midge left, Mandy spent several hours immersed in the book she had brought from home the day before. Her studies were interrupted by Mo, who tapped at her door.

He poked his head in. “Do you have a minute?”

She looked up and smiled. “For you, always. Come in.” She closed her book and pushed it to the corner of the desk. “Sit down. What can I do for you?”

He sat on the edge of the chair and clasped a folder in his lap. “First, I want to say I’m sorry about my awful presentation yesterday.”

She waved away his apology. “Don’t give it another thought.”

“I was prepared. I practiced, but I’ve never been good at public speaking.”

“Well, Grange wasn’t the most appreciative of audiences. He certainly put a damper on my reading program proposal.”

Mo rubbed his cheek. “He scared me silly, but he came and apologized.”

“Oh?” Mandy’s brows went up. “When did he do that?”

“First thing this morning. He said he read my paper— which is funny, because I didn’t think he took a copy with him. I know he read it, though, because he asked a couple of pertinent questions.”

“He did?” For some reason, Mo’s news warmed Mandy inside, like sunshine breaking through on a cloudy day. She suppressed a smile and said, “Well, I’m glad, Mo. You had some really good information to share, even if he didn’t seem to listen yesterday.”

Mo shrugged. “That’s all right.”

“So, what did you come in to talk to me about?”

He cleared his throat. “Um, I think I’ve found a way so we don’t have to let any teachers go, and perhaps still help fund your reading program.”

Mandy leaned forward. “Is it legal?” Confronted by Mo’s blank stare, she said, “I was kidding. Tell me where you found all this money.”

He eagerly dragged his chair around to sit beside her desk and spread the contents of the folder in front of her. They spent the next hour and a half discussing each of the pages and doing more research online. At the end of that time, she sat back in her chair. “I’m convinced,” she said. “Now we just have to convince other people.”

“By
other people
, you mean Grange.” Mo rubbed his cheek again, and Mandy noticed a fuzz of whiskers along his jawline.

“I nominate you to be the one to approach him,” he said.

She smiled. “I accept the nomination. Let’s set the appointment right now.” She opened the calendar page on her computer and looked at Grange’s Monday appointments. “I’ll catch him first thing in the morning. He’s at the high school in the afternoon. Can I have copies of everything in this folder?”

“That’s yours. I made it for you.”

“Thanks.” Mandy laid the folder aside. “So what’s the thing about the whiskers? I thought at first that Grange wasn’t shaving out of pure obstinacy, but I see you’re sprouting a beard, too. There must be some significance.”

“It’s for Opening Festival, the beard-growing contest.”

“What’s Opening Festival?”

Mo smiled. “I imagine it’s pretty frantic at your house with Leesie playing catch-up.”

Mandy frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You mean you really don’t know? I thought you were— when you said, ‘What’s Opening Festival,’ I thought, you know, you were being funny.”

“No. I know nothing about it, and nothing about Leesie playing catch-up, whatever that is.”

Mo cleared his throat. “Well, uh, Opening Festival is a town celebration we have each year to celebrate the opening of the road over the mountains. It’s a huge fundraiser for music in the schools, and the kids have a big part in it, both in planning and putting it on and performing. It’s mostly a bluegrass festival, and we have visiting bands from all over the country.”

“Bluegrass,” Mandy said faintly.

“Yes. Leesie’s playing in one of the bands the school sponsors. I thought you knew.”

“I knew she was going to practice, but I never thought to ask what she was practicing. How do you know this?”

“I’ve heard her.”

“What is she playing?” Mandy searched her memory for things she might know about bluegrass and came up with very little.

“All the old standards. ‘Wabash Cannonball,’ ‘Will the Circle Be Unbroken,’ ‘Wildwood Flower’— you know.”

“No, I mean, what instrument?”

“Bass fiddle. She’s good, too, for having just picked it up.”

Mandy shook her curls. “She’s a cellist— it must transfer. But how do you know this, Mo? How did you happen to hear her while I don’t know anything about it?”

“I go to the high school after school and help. I play bluegrass, too. Mandolin. Sometimes I go to Granny Timberlain’s before school to coach them a bit.”

When Mandy looked mystified, Mo explained, “The Timberlains have been playing bluegrass forever. Jake’s group practices there, so Granny can teach them all the old songs she knows.”

Mandy paused a moment to digest that information and then asked, “So, is this Opening Festival something that I need to be involved in?”

“No. It’s Grange’s baby. That’s why he’s spending so much time at the high school right now.”

“Well, that’s a load off my mind.” She picked up the folder Grange had brought. “But here’s something I just discovered I have to do, and I don’t know anything about it. I want you to educate me about the levy.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. We don’t have that process in New Mexico. The state funds everything there.”

“All right.” Mo began to instruct Mandy about the levy system, taking her through the part the district played in the process and, particularly, her role. As he spoke, he drew diagrams on the inside leaf of the file folder.

“I see,” she said when he was finished. She pointed to the triangle that represented the chairman of the citizens’ committee. “Whom do you suggest we choose for this position?”

“Nettie Maypole.”

“Why?”

He held up his index finger. “First, because she knows the ropes. Second, because we’re late getting going on this. We should have been up and running last January.”

Mandy interrupted. “And why weren’t we?”

“Because the administration was in flux. Grange didn’t think he was even going to be here. And then, after Wesley and Mrs. Foley convinced him to stay, you arrived, and it’s been a mess.”

“Okay, so we’re at number two, we’re late getting going.”

“Three, Nettie can deliver. She’s related to half the people in the district, and Mutt is related to the other half. Every levy she’s chaired has passed overwhelmingly.”

“I see,” Mandy said. “Is there a number four?”

“Four is the most important one. She’s done it so long, it’s tradition. There’s an old saying—
tradition is more binding than the law
. That’s especially true in a small town.”

Mandy leaned forward. “Do you think Nettie would do it if I asked her? She doesn’t have warm fuzzies toward me, you know.”

“I know. Hmm.” Mo leaned his elbow on Mandy’s desk and cradled his chin in his palm. “I don’t know. You may have to get Grange to go with you, but I think it’s critical that you are the one that does the asking.”

“I’d rather die than take Grange with me.” She spoke more vehemently than she intended.

“The district needs the levy,” Mo reminded her.

“I’ll think about it. When do I need to talk to her?”

“Yesterday.” His lips curled in a tight little smile. “Kidding. Realistically, if you could get her on board next week, it’s still doable. She won’t have to reinvent the wheel. In fact, if I know Nettie, she’s already got her committees formed, and she’s just waiting for an official invitation.” He considered a moment. “Which makes it twice as imperative that you move quickly. You don’t want to wait so long that she gets her back up and decides she won’t do it just to spite you, since you took so long to ask her.”

Mandy buried her face in her hands. “I just hate the politics! Can’t we just focus on the kids?”

Mo stood. “I think that’s what you’re doing, Dr. Steenburg.”

She looked at him over the tips of her fingers.

He nodded. “If you decide to go ahead and ask Nettie, it’s because the kids are your focus, and you’re not letting personal animosity— on her side or yours— get in the way.”

Mandy dropped her hands and leaned back in her chair. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re wise?”

Mo looked at his feet and shook his head.

She stood. “Well, you are. Thank you for all you’ve done for me today.” She extended her hand.

He clasped her hand. “You’re welcome, Dr. Steenburg.” Beneath his sparse whiskers, his cheeks had a rosy tinge.

“Mandy,” she insisted.

He shook his head, smiling. “Let me know how your talk with Grange comes out.” He pointed to the folder on her desk.

“I will.” She remained standing until he was out of the room. Then, looking at her watch, she opened the book she was reading earlier and bent over it in deep study until it was time to go to Tammy’s.

MANDY SAT IN
Tammy’s living room at her basket-making table as the young mother beside her struggled through an oral reading test.

“I know this is really hard,” Mandy said, as they paused between passages, “but I need you to do the best you can. This will give me an idea of where we can begin.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tammy said grimly. “This is what I go through all the time.”

It was an intense half hour for Mandy as she watched Tammy try under her breath before speaking aloud each halting attempt. “Okay,” she said finally, closing the book. “We’ll stop there. We’ve got a benchmark now, and we’ll be able to measure your progress with this same test.”

She set the plastic bag of clay on the table. “I hope you’ll understand that I’m not a reading teacher. My mother is, but I didn’t learn anything from her. She did give me a book to read, though I didn’t read it. I’ve had it on my shelf and never opened it until today.”

Tammy didn’t say anything. She sat with her eyes on Mandy and her hands in her lap.

Mandy picked up one of the baskets. “I was interested when I found that you made baskets and carved little statues, because it made me remember what my mother said about the man who wrote the book she gave me. This may sound a little off-the-wall, but hear me out.” She took a deep breath. “This man is dyslexic. He’s also a sculptor. He says he thinks that a gift that dyslexic people have is their ability to see things in three dimensions, and that’s one of the things that causes problems in reading. Causes the reversals, you know? It’s like, when you see the word
was
, if you see it in three dimensions, your mind may flip it around so you’re seeing the backside, and what you’re reading is
saw
instead of
was
. That’s the first problem.”