Page 98 of Mr. B

Frank meowed, then walked under the table, made a pass at Wes’ pant leg, then went to lie down in front of the sink on his favorite rug. That was as affectionate as Frank got.

“I missed you too, Frank.”

The plant sat on the counter, looking just as green as it had when he left. On Monday, he’d take it back to school. He thought about Cassandra’s suggestion to name the plant. “Nope. That’s not happening.”

After a lazy Sunday and several phone calls with Cassandra, Monday morning arrived. Since he still couldn’t drive, Cassandra offered to pick him up. He wouldn’t arrive quite as early as he liked, but that was fine. He’d have a few minutes alone with Cassandra on the drive.

When he got into the car, Cassandra smiled. “Hey there, handsome.”

“Morning.”

“Are you ready to be back?”

“Always.” He leaned toward her and kissed her. “We should get at least one of those in before we get to school.”

She kissed him back. “One or two.” She nodded toward the plant. “Still alive.”

“I know how to take care of a plant.”

“My mistake.”

When they arrived at school, Wes told her to park in his space. “The perks of being the principal.”

“I’m so jealous.”

Wes got out of the car and grabbed his briefcase, then his crutches, while Cassandra took her things and the plant. On the short walk between the parking space and the office door, several kids and three teachers stopped to ask why he was on crutches. Cassandra held the door open for him, and Polly came around the counter when she saw them come in.

“My goodness, Mr. Buchanan. What happened?”

“A slight mishap with a trout. I’ll be better in no time.”

Cassandra shook her head. “More like four to six weeks.”

“Nah. I’m a fast healer.”

“We have a fresh batch of cookies from Mrs. Davis and a dozen muffins from Mrs. Whitfield.”

“I could go for a muffin.”

Cassandra took one from the basket. “Let me help you with that.”

They went to his office, and he sat behind the desk, propping the crutches against the wall behind him. He exhaled slowly as he rubbed his hands over the smooth surface of his desk. A stack of pink phone message slips sat beside another small stack of files. “It’s good to be back.”

“Back where you belong.”

She set the plant and the muffin on the desk. “Have you named the plant yet?”

“No.”

“Well, she’s doing fine, regardless.”

“Thus making the naming thing unnecessary.”

“Do you mind if I give her a name?”

“I guess not, if you insist.”

Cassandra studied the plant for a moment. “Geraldine.”