Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Andie had driven by this temple many times but had never had the opportunity to stop. Out front, a large brass menorah stood year-round, only now it had the first four candles lit. Andie didn’t know what, if any, traditions would take place at sunset to light the fifth but had to admit it made the night a bit extra special. In a land where large Christmas trees were the norm, it was nice to have this one portion of her religion celebrated on an equally large scale.
Leo parked in back of the building and turned off the engine. “You ready to be accosted by about two dozen tweens?”
Andie leaned over the center console. The late afternoon lighting made everything feel more intimate, wrapping them up and cocooning them inside the car without a care for the outside world. “Did you forget my job again?”
Leo shifted close, past casual conversation, a light tilt to his lips that she wanted to taste. “No, I did not. But these kids aren’t preschool-aged.”
“And I’m only good for preschoolers then?”
Leo shifted back, alarmed. “No, I didn’t mean—”
Andie’s laughter cut him off. He might have made her mad a few nights ago, but now she enjoyed his fumbling far too much. “I know. But I also know most people don’t realize that I have experience working with multiple age groups and there are some basic commonalities among them.”
“Such as?”
Andie reached for her door handle. “Every child wants and deserves respect.”
The sky held dark purple tones mixed in with the blues. The area behind the temple consisted mostly of trees, creating a secluded atmosphere, and a playground that didn’t seem to match the school-aged kids.
Leo appeared beside her, extending an elbow for her to hook her hand on. She didn’t need to be asked twice, not when it allowed her to be close to his side, his broad shoulders protecting her from some of the cold winter air. “Do you belong to this temple?”
“Nah. I’ll join Jodie here or Mom and Dad at my childhood one.”
“I get that. I haven’t found my place since Dad stopped attending.”
They headed up the stone steps, parting as they entered the main doors to where a small group of adults bustled about, setting up. One young kid weaved in between the adults. All heads swiveled their way.
“Oh, Leo, thank goodness you’re here.” A short woman wandered over to them. “We need another table for all the food. Would you be a dear and go grab one?”
“I’m on it.” Leo placed both hands on Andie’s shoulders. “Whitney, this is Andie, she’s here to help.”
Whitney had short dark hair and wore a sweater rolled up at the elbows that had a large dreidel on the front. “Help is always appreciated. Come with me. You can help with the decorations.”
Andie followed. The room felt like a large function hall, and Andie had no doubt that many an event had taken place here over the years, Chanukah parties were the tip of the iceberg.
“Are you a good friend of Leo’s?” Whitney’s voice held a curious note, one that wanted to deduce the true reason why this random person had joined a school celebration.
“You could say that. We’re celebrating Chanukah together.”
“I see.” Whitney held out a streamer and Andie took her end. “Leo is quite the catch. We’ve got a few single mothers who would be upset if he was taken. And a few not looking for partners who would be as well.” Whitney laughed.
Andie smiled and hung the end of her side around a tac in the wall. “He is a catch, no argument from me on that.” A punch of jealousy hit her, but she ignored it. Leo wouldn’t be hers for more than a blink of an eye, she could put in a good word for him.
“You two aren’t a thing?” Whitney had finished with her side and stood in front of Andie. “I’m sorry, I’m too blunt for my own good.”
“No, it’s all right. And we might be a bit of one, but I’ll be moving for a new job soon, so …” Andie flailed her hands, unsure of how to finish.
“I see. Shame, he seems to like your company. I mean, you’re here.”
“I think that’s due to a precocious niece.”
“Oh, yes, Millie. She makes my bluntness seem mild.”
They hung up another streamer before Leo returned, carrying a banquet table as though it weighed nothing. He set it down not too far from Andie.
“How is it you needed your brother for my desk, but not that?” Andie asked.
When Leo didn’t answer, keeping his focus on fixing the table legs, Andie figured he must have not heard her. There was chatter from those who were helping to set up. Andie realized the noise bounced off the walls, so she moved until he looked up and repeated herself.
“This is worth a whole lot less and will continue to get beaten up. If I drop it, no big deal.”
Leo got pulled away again, and Andie found herself without a task to do. The multiple groups were all hard at work, and none appeared to need a new pair of hands. She wandered over to a table where plastic dreidels and candy gelt had been scattered. The layout suggested that the items had been dumped more than set up, and, being no stranger to organizing crafts and activities for kids, Andie set to work separating the dreidels from the gelt.
A boy was running around—about five, Andie guessed—wearing running shoes that lit up and a dinosaur shirt. His gaze locked on what she was setting up. He ran over to her table, bouncing on his feet when he arrived.
“Are you playing dreidels?” Hope shimmered in his blue eyes.
“I’m setting them up for the party.”
“Oh.” His head angled down, feet no longer bouncing, lights going dark on his shoes.
Andie pushed a blue dreidel his way. “Why don’t you give it a spin, help me make sure it works.”
He glanced up. “I like green.”
Andie chuckled and swapped out the blue dreidel for a green one.
The boy happily twirled it, squealing when the dreidel spun right off the table to land on the floor.
“No, Evan, those aren’t for you.”
Evan picked up the dreidel and placed it on the table, head angled down.
Andie looked over at the woman with blond hair pulled back into a high ponytail, hoping she was Evan’s mother. “That’s my fault. I needed someone to test the dreidels and make sure they work.”
Evan smiled brightly up at her.
The woman studied Andie, probably torn between keeping her son with people she knew and getting a small break. “He’s not bothering you?”
Evan resumed twirling.
Andie gave the mother her best teacher smile. “Absolutely not.”
She gave her son one final look before pushing up the sleeves to her pink sweater, returning to the food table.
“Does that dreidel pass the test?” Andie asked.
Evan pushed it toward the center. “Uh-huh.”
Andie found another green dreidel. “Let me know how this one goes.”
Evan began spinning it, not even letting it come to a complete stop before he spun it again.
A warm hand landed on Andie’s back. She didn’t need to look to know who it belonged to, not with the slight scent of wood that engulfed her. “You okay?” Leo asked.
She glanced up at him. “I’m good. I’ve acquired a helper.” She nodded to Evan.
“This one works, too!” Evan bounced, pushing the dreidel to Andie.
“I’ve got a challenge. This pink one needs a test; think you can do it?”
“I like pink!” Evan grabbed it and began twirling.
Leo chuckled low, and somehow it vibrated through her, even in this environment. “I see you don’t need my help then.”
“I suspect they have other tasks for you.”
Just then, Whitney waved for Leo.
Leo groaned. “I’m the resident handyman when I’m here.”
He walked off, and Andie suspected some of the women liked to see him work, more than needed it. She didn’t blame them.
With her pile nearly sorted, Andie handed Evan another pink dreidel. Across the room something fell, clattering and echoing through the space.
Evan dropped the dreidel and covered his ears, body hunching over. “It’s loud in here.” He didn’t straighten, remained curled up into himself.
Andie went into caretaker mode. She had students who struggled in different environments, and while she’d just met Evan, she understood that the noise had created a shift in his environment. She glanced around, checking to see what options the open space had. Not much, and the openness meant the current noise level would only get worse. “I think it will be louder when the other kids arrive.”
“I don’t like that. I like it quiet.”
He tugged at her heart. “I like the quiet, too. Are you staying for the party?”
He nodded. “Mom’s helping and Dad had to work, so I’m stuck here.” Evan threw his palm down, bouncing the dreidels. He picked one up, yellow, and gave it a spin.
Andie knew when reinforcements would be needed. She didn’t know this place, but she suspected Evan needed a quiet break. “I’ll be right back.”
She got up and hurried to his mother, finding her standing with Whitney. “That’s the longest he’s been still all day,” the mother said.
“He told me it’s loud in here. I don’t seem to have anything to do at the moment. If it’s okay with you I can take some dreidels and Evan and I can play in the corner.”
The mother looked at Whitney.
“This is Andie, she’s here with Leo.” Whitney faced Andie. “And this is Beth.”
The woman pressed a strand of blond hair off her face. “You wouldn’t mind?”
Andie smiled. “I’m a preschool teacher, he’s older than my students, but I wouldn’t mind.”
“I want the green one!” Evan shouted. Andie gave a little start, not realizing he’d followed her. Before any of them could react he raced back to the table, grabbed a green dreidel, and created a light show over to the corner.
“He’s a handful. You don’t have to,” Beth said.
Andie shrugged. She’d take children handfuls over the adult version any day. “Not a problem at all.”
She joined Evan in the corner and settled on the floor. He’d already begun spinning. When the dreidel stopped, he picked it up again, not even checking to see what it landed on. She let him play, spinning her own, ending up in a spinning war. Evan laughed every time their dreidels bumped into each other and the sound warmed Andie’s heart. Children laughing had to be the best part of her day.
It sparked to life the dream she’d been working toward before her father got sick. She loved her job, but she wanted the option for more. To help more people, like her father had. She’d begun the process of getting her master’s in special education so she’d be able to better serve the students that needed the most support. The degree would expand her knowledge and give her new methods for being the inclusive teacher she strived to be. She’d gotten accepted and had started planning for juggling work and school. Caring for her father had changed all of that. She had no regrets. One day, when the timing was right, she’d begin the process again.
Across the room, Leo set up a large menorah—not quite as large as outside, but still impressive in the room. He’d rolled up his sleeves, strength showing in his arms and shoulders as he worked.
Child laughter and Leo to watch. This might be the best night of Chanukah yet.
“Uncle Leo!”
That was the only warning Leo got before Millie threw herself at him and he had to scramble not to drop the kid. Millie hung on, arms and legs wrapped around him.
“Hey kiddo, you okay?” He shifted until he had a good grip on her and could straighten.
She disentangled herself and slid to the ground. “Yup.” She looked around the room, where kids had already dived into food and games. Their laughter and chatter a symphony in the background. A symphony that meant he’d have a harder time hearing. The things he did for his niece. “Where’s Andie?”
Leo laughed and pointed to the dreidel table. After Andie’s success keeping Evan entertained, she was a natural shoo-in for leading some of the dreidel games.
“Oh, she’s pretty.” Millie crossed her arms and stared up at Leo. “Did you make any more wishes?”
Leo copied her stance. “I didn’t want to abuse the magic.”
Millie nodded as though they were having a perfectly reasonable conversation. “But what if there’s something you really want to wish for?”
“Then I’ll consider it.”
Millie nodded again. “I’m going to bug your girlfriend.”
Leo flung out a hand, grasping Millie’s shoulder. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Isn’t that what you wished for?”
“I wished for a date, not a girlfriend.”
“Then maybe you know what your next wish should be.” At that, Millie skipped off. If she said anything it got swallowed up by the room.
Leo blew out a breath, hoping Andie’s move wouldn’t be too much of a hardship for his niece. He already knew it would be one for him, no sense having two members of his family sad.
The dreidel table looked like chaos to Leo but tell that to Andie. She needed a circus top hat and a gold medal with how expertly she played ringmaster to two separate games simultaneously. She handed out dreidels to one group while monitoring winnings in a second and didn’t even bat an eye when Millie came right up to her.
He got close as Millie stuck out her hand in formal greeting to Andie, catching the end of what she said, “… Leo’s niece.”
Andie chuckled. “Hello Millie. Your uncle has talked a lot about you.”
Millie beamed.
Leo placed two stern hands on his niece’s shoulders. “Haven’t you been talking about Mrs. Wiseman’s sufganiyot?”
“Oh, it’s ready?” At that, Millie took off for the jelly-filled donut treats.
“Where are you stationed?” Andie neatened the center pot for one group, handed out gelt to the other, and still managed to have a conversation.
She made his head spin in wonderment and awe. “How are you doing that?” Leo asked.
She looked up. “Doing what?”
“Ringmaster of a three-ring circus.”
She chuckled, collecting a wayward dreidel that had fallen to the floor. “Oh, gimel, good land!” She handed it back and facilitated the next turn, before facing Leo. “I teach preschool. This is nothing.”
A strong sense of something pushed against his sternum at this amazing woman. He wanted to rub the spot and managed to resist. This woman, she got to him in so many ways. She had a calmness he rarely felt, especially in an environment like this. He’d have ten children yelling at him if he tried to take over.
“Still think I should work for Amazon?” Andie teased.
He doubted she’d let this one go. At least he agreed he’d deserved it. “We’ve already discussed that I don’t. They don’t pay you enough.”
Andie chortled. “Welcome to the real world.” She picked up one of the candy gelts and placed it in his hand. “You earned this one.”
He relished in the feeling of her hand against his, missing the skin-to-skin contact that lasted far too briefly. “I’m, uh, on the Maccabee sword-fighting station.”
She leaned forward, looking to that corner. “I think you’ve got your own three-ring circus to assist with.”
He tore his gaze from hers and to the small crowd of kids trying to inflict damage with foam swords waiting for him. “I believe you are right.”
Leo walked away to the sound of Andie’s laughter, but he didn’t make it to the sword station before getting interrupted by Whitney.
“I meant to ask, how are things going with the business? Jodie is so worried your father will sell it outside of the family.”
Leo longed for one of those foam swords to be jammed into his side. The polite answer would be to say everything was fine, but Whitney already knew too much. “It’s still a battle, and my oil is running out.”
Whitney shook her head. “Forgiveness is a virtue often overlooked. You are a respectable man who has atoned for the past.”
Tell that to Glen . “Respectable person doesn’t equate to successful business owner.”
Whitney placed a hand on his shoulder. “And yet, you’re the only non–parental unit here helping out.”
“Andie is even less related to the children.”
“And she’s here because of you.”
Whitney took off at that and Leo could only shake his head. It didn’t matter what someone said to him. Unless they had the perfect item he could fix up, they needed to be talking to his father about forgiveness.
Leo had tried, in many different ways. But one could try only so much on their own. Progress needed two willing parties.
With that sobering thought, he headed into the Maccabee sword battle.
Forty-five minutes into the party, Andie stood and stretched. She’d been replaced by one of the other volunteers, who dived into the position like a seasoned parent. Around the room mayhem ruled, as kids ran from activity to activity. The menorahs in the room had already been lit, one large electric one and two small candle versions burning into the night.
Leo remained at his station, and Andie couldn’t help but scoot to the side to watch. He held a foam sword in each hand, dueling two laughing kids at once. He let them both stab him in the side, trapped their swords with his arms, staggering backward.
He collapsed to the floor, foam swords curving as they didn’t have the structure to stand on their own. The two boys high-fived each other and left, not checking on their victim.
Andie made her way over and held out a hand. “Wounded in battle, I see.”
Leo grasped her hand and let Andie pull him to a standing position, using his legs to propel him upright. She’d done more work to lift a willing three-year-old. “Many times over, in fact. Those Maccabees know how to fight.”
Andie lingered a finger over his palm and finger as she let him go. “Got battle scars that need tending to?”
Leo smirked. “Plenty.”
More kids arrived and he left her, attending to his next set of victors. Andie stayed and watched, unable to find anything else as entertaining. Leo wouldn’t know these students well, he was here for Millie, and yet he jumped into the fray like someone who truly loved and appreciated kids. It brought an image to mind of him with his own children, playing around like this on a normal night, couch cushions tossed around and sounds of laughter ringing through the home.
The life she wanted. She often had visions like this of herself and kids, but never of another adult. He fit into this dream, this happy family she craved. But his life was here in Massachusetts. And her future was in Ohio.
Now she needed a moment to put everything but Chanukah out of her mind. And a bathroom. She slipped out into the hall, not wanting to bother anyone. The noise of the room dwindled, her ears relaxing in the quiet echo of the hall. She picked a direction and started walking, coming to a corridor with a set of doors along the wall.
The rooms inside were dark, but curiosity had her peeking in. The set up felt like a classroom, but the chairs and table were far too small for the tweens in the other room. She checked in on another room, with alphabet letters hanging on the walls, along with artwork from very young students.
It looked like a preschool, but maybe this was a spot for kids during services. She shook it off, back to hunting for a restroom, when a bulletin board came into view. And at the top of the board: Preschool Notes.
She was right. The temple had a preschool.
“Are you looking for something?”
Andie turned with a slight jump, finding Whitney standing before her. “I’m sorry, I was looking for the bathroom and got distracted.”
Whitney’s smile was warm and open. “You teach preschool, don’t you?”
“I do. Little Friends.”
Whitney’s smile fell. “Not the one closing?”
“The very same.”
“What are you doing next year?”
“I’m looking for a new job.” Sure, she had an offer on the table, but it wasn’t a done deal yet. Besides, maybe Whitney would mention a lead she could pass on to Sarah.
Whitney glanced at the rooms behind her, then at Andie. “Meredith has the cloud room and she’s pregnant. With twins.”
Andie studied Whitney’s face, wondering where this conversation was headed.
“She’s not returning after they are born.”
Andie waited for Whitney to say more, but the woman simply stared at her.
“Are you implying you’re hiring?”
“I am.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because I’ve seen you interact with a very energetic five-year-old and holiday-hyped bigger kids. If you bring half that energy to your preschoolers, anyone would be lucky to have you on their team.”
Andie’s cheeks warmed at the compliment. She held out her still-dyed hands. “Projects before beauty, am I right?”
Whitney laughed. “I’d love for you to send me a resume.” She went over to the board, untacked a business card, and placed the card in Andie’s hand. “And the bathroom is around the corner. Meant for adults, not the little ones. You don’t want that one.”
Andie chuckled. “Thank you.” The card warmed her palm as she followed the directions and entered the bathroom.
There she leaned against the wall, mind whirling. She already had a job lined up. A good one. One that she hadn’t seen, hadn’t been able to set foot into and get the true feel and vibe of the place.
All options were good options. Before she could overthink things, she used her phone to email Whitney her recently updated resume. More options, just in case, she told herself. They’d have plenty of qualified applicants, or a teacher who changed her mind and wanted to return to work after her twins were born.
Like the oil that looked enough for only one night but burned for eight, the end of the story was not always known in advance. So, she’d keep her options open and be prepared for anything.