Chapter 18 - Pickup
On Monday, the parents were back in their familiar places. The curb still smelled like rain. A crossing guard in a neon vest waved a delivery van away from the bus lane, and the school bell sounded thin through the cool air.
Nate wore the same faded sweatshirt Meredith had inspected two weeks earlier. His consulting assignment was in its second week. He'd spent three hours helping Martin untangle inventory counts and then closed the laptop at three-thirty, leaving a question unanswered until Tuesday.
He was still uneasy about the unfinished question. He was also on time.
Meredith stood near the fence talking with Tessa. When she saw Nate, she lifted a hand.
"Josie did great Friday," she called.
"Maeve too."
They went back to their conversation without anybody proving anything.
A father Nate didn't recognize stepped into line behind him. He wore wrinkled khakis, held a pink lunchbox, and kept checking the row of classroom windows. When the man told another parent he'd recently left his job, the response came fast.
"Oh, so you're taking some time off? Must be nice."
The new father smiled awkwardly. Nate knew that smile. He also knew the tempting speech he could deliver: his old salary, the eight states, the title he once had, the meetings he used to run. He could place his former life on the pavement between them like evidence.
Instead he moved a little closer to the man.
"I'm Nate," he said. "That's my daughter, Josie, with the purple backpack. You new here?"
"Evan. Just moved in. My son, Ben, is in second grade. My wife started nights at the hospital, so I'm handling school."
"Second-grade pickup's chaos the first few days. Bus kids come through the far door. Everyone else comes here. If you want, I can show you where to find the calendar updates."
Evan's shoulders dropped. "That would help. Thanks."
Josie ran out holding a book under her arm, with Maeve half a step behind her. She waved at Evan's son and announced that the class was making a paper town next week and needed cardboard boxes.
Nate opened the car door. "We've got plenty."
"You kept them?" Josie asked.
"I kept the good ones. Your mother says I'm a menace."
"She's right," Josie said cheerfully.
At home, Leah's plans were spread across the dining table. Nate had a work call scheduled for the next morning. The dog was begging under the counter. Josie was already turning the saved boxes into buildings, sticking masking tape directly to the table before anybody could stop her.
"Dad, can you hold this roof?"
Nate pulled out a chair and held the cardboard steady while she pressed on a crooked paper chimney.
His laptop chimed from the office. A routine message. He let it chime.
"Is it straight?" Josie asked.
"A little crooked."
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"Good," she said. "It's supposed to be our house."
He held the roof until the glue set.
