Sweet Surrender (Sugarville Grove #3)

1. Becca

1

BECCA

B ecca Hawthorne stood in line at the little diner, feeling like she had stepped into a small-town Christmas movie set.

Twinkling lights and old-fashioned paper reindeer adorned the walls, and each table boasted a little red or green glass vase with a sprig of holly in it.

An elderly couple left, and the sleigh bells over the door jingled merrily as a blast of cold, sweet Vermont air swirled inside the diner, mixing with the delicious scent of pancakes and bacon on the grill from the kitchen.

Becca’s mouth watered, but she did her best to ignore it. She had already eaten oatmeal in the kitchenette of her apartment, so there was no need to order breakfast today, which was probably healthier for her waistline and her wallet. The sights and smells were hard to resist, but once she got her hands on a cheap coffee maker, she wouldn’t even need to come back here for her caffeine fix.

Teaching definitely didn’t pay well. She’d known that before she had even chosen her major in college. But it was worth it to know she could make a real difference in the world.

The man in front of her took a white paper bag from the pretty lady at the counter and put his change in the tip jar.

“Thanks, Kris,” chimed the woman, whose name tag said Tara .

“You betcha,” Kris replied, turning to go and winking at Becca.

The man had a big white beard and twinkly blue eyes and he looked so much like Santa Claus that Becca almost did a double-take as he passed her.

“How can I help you?” Tara asked.

“I’d love a coffee please,” Becca told her, holding out her reusable mug. “With milk and sugar.”

“Sure thing,” Tara said, taking it. “Are you the new second-grade teacher?”

“Yes,” Becca said, impressed. “How did you guess?”

“This is a small town,” Tara said with a smile. “I’m Tara.”

“Nice to meet you, Tara,” Becca said. “I’m Becca. It must be a very small town.”

“Also… this was a good clue,” Tara said, indicating Becca’s travel mug. “It’s really pretty.”

“Right,” Becca said, feeling a little embarrassed that she hadn’t even thought about her mug. “Thank you. It was a gift.”

The message on the side said, The best teachers teach from the heart, not from the book , in a pretty, swirly font.

“I’m going to start you a fresh pot,” Tara said, winking at her. “We need you at your best in the classroom.”

“Thanks,” Becca said.

Tara probably thought she was doing Becca a favor, but Becca would honestly rather have made do with the coffee from the bottom of the pot and had an extra few minutes in her new classroom.

My own classroom...

The thought of it sent a shiver of happiness down her spine.

“Is it your first day?” Tara asked when she had the coffeemaker going.

“Yes,” Becca replied happily. “It’s actually my first day with my own class, too.”

“You’ve never taught before?” Tara asked.

“I was a building substitute in the city,” Becca explained. “I would cover for any teacher at that elementary school who was out. So I bounced around a lot.”

“Well, you must have been a good one,” Tara said, holding up Becca’s mug.

Becca swallowed over a lump in her throat. No matter where she went, she would never forget her time serving as a substitute, doing all she could to use every minute of the limited time she had with her students to get them a little closer to reaching their potential.

On her last day, the principal had called her down to the office before she left.

“You’re lucky I gave a truthful recommendation,” Principal Johnson had teased her gently. “I wanted to tell them you were terrible so we could keep you forever. We’re going to miss you, Miss Hawthorne. You’re one of a kind.”

The principal had handed her a bag that contained a gift card for a local department store, and the reusable coffee mug she was going to carry to school today.

“You’ve always taught our students here with all your heart, even when you only had a day to do it in,” Principal Johnson told her with a warm smile. “I know you’ll do just the same when you have a classroom of your own.”

Becca felt another wave of gratitude now for the older educator’s faith in her. She was determined to make everyone who had ever believed in her proud.

Smiling, she watched Tara fill her mug and add milk and sugar just like she’d asked.

“Thanks, Tara,” she said, taking the coffee when it was ready, and putting her change in the tip jar just like the customer before her. “It was great to meet you.”

“You too, Becca,” Tara told her. “Good luck today.”

“Thank you,” Becca said, turning back to head for the door and scanning the cute little diner one last time.

Nearly every face at every table was looking right back at her. Their expressions were friendly, but Becca felt her cheeks heating an yway.

This is life in a small town , Becca told herself firmly. It’s normal for them to be interested in newcomers.

She headed out the door, sending the bells jingling again.

All she wanted was to sprint to the school and see how her classroom looked in the daylight. But she had already drawn plenty of attention to herself. So she settled for a fast walk.

The frosty air felt good in her lungs and on her flushed cheeks. Across the street, the sun was rising over Sugarville Grove’s park with its holly-decked pavilion and the big evergreen tree that would soon be decorated for Christmas.

Becca walked on, trying not to get caught up admiring the little shops. The redbrick buildings with their big windows and wooden signs were all adorned in twinkling lights and pine boughs. It would be so easy to lose track of time window-shopping. But that would have to wait.

The whole sky was pink with dawn light as she finally crossed Bear Avenue and reached the elementary school.

A walking path led up to the big stone building, which wasn’t even half the size of the ones she was used to, but still looked impressive when it was framed by the rosy sky. Her heart leapt with excitement as she thought about the day ahead.

She swiped her card at the door, and it opened up, revealing a spacious lobby decorated with so much beautiful student art that it took her breath away each time she stepped inside.

“A night owl and an early bird, eh, Miss Hawthorne?” a friendly voice said.

Becca had arrived in Vermont yesterday afternoon, dropped her things at her new apartment over one of the shops in town and rushed right over here to start setting up her classroom and hanging posters. She had been here until it was dark outside, and she was grateful that Sugarville Grove was a safe enough place that a young woman could walk home alone in the evening after getting lost in the excitement of decorating her classroom.

“Principal Chittenden,” Becca said. “Good morning.”

The older lady wore a long brown wool skirt and a pretty red cardigan. She smiled at Becca from behind thick glasses on a beaded chain.

“Good morning,” Principal Chittenden said with a smile. “I hope you have a wonderful first day of school. If you take the advice on your coffee cup, I think it will be exceptional.”

Becca glanced down at her mug and smiled. It had been a conversation starter twice today. By the time she looked up again, the elderly principal had disappeared into her office.

Becca hurried up the stairs to the end of the hallway where the second-grade classrooms were situated across from one another and unlocked the door to hers.

My classroom, she thought to herself as she stepped inside. My very own classroom.

Back in the city, she had lugged her bag of materials around the school. But she was finally going to have a space that was all her own.

Her classroom was even prettier than last night, now that it was filled with soft morning light.

The room itself was on the old-fashioned side, but like the rest of the school, it had clearly been lovingly maintained. The speckled beige floor tiles and wood trim under generations of shellac and a recent rubdown with pine cleaner gave nothing away. It could have been a classroom from any time after the second world war, if not for the small projector installed on the ceiling.

On the right wall was a huge blackboard, with her desk in front of it. The wall opposite the door was all windows overlooking the school’s front lawn. But the other two walls were decorated with homemade posters that Becca felt awfully proud of, if she did say so herself.

Mrs. David, whose class she was taking over, had only been out on family leave to look after her mother. But when her mom took a turn for the worse, she had decided to take an unexpected early retirement.

So Becca hadn’t been given much notice at all that she needed to rush out to the small, rural town.

As she feverishly searched for info on the area the night before she had to head out, she decided that maybe the children would enjoy an enrichment project that involved researching and reporting about their hometown.

And she could honestly use their help. There was precious little on the internet about Sugarville Grove, Vermont. A place called Hayes Maple Sugar Farm sold maple syrup and related gift baskets online. There was a pretty lake and a cute local paper that was print-only, so she couldn’t access the issues. She saw a couple of mentions of the Fighting Woodchucks, Sugarville Grove’s high school hockey team, in a bigger nearby newspaper that had digital files for browsing. And other than a reference to a town founder called Stone Lawrence on a site called Small Town Vermont Facts , there wasn’t much else to learn.

So she had used magazine cut-outs and her trusty stencil set to create cheerful posters with questions about the landmarks, industry, community, and history of the town. With any luck, the kids would be eager to share everything they knew.

She had also brought Mrs. David’s book of lesson plans and grades back to her apartment with her to review last night. It looked like the children had a solid second grade foundation. But Becca had so many fun new ideas to try with them if there was time.

It’s good I have all this, she thought to herself without meaning to. There’s no time to be lonely for my parents or my brothers and sisters.

There was no time to wish for a family of her own either. When the time was right for romance and marriage, she was sure it would all come together. But it would probably be years before teaching wasn’t taking up all her bandwidth. For Becca Hawthorne, this wasn’t just a job, it was a true calling.

She would never forget the day she knew she was going to be a teacher when she grew up. That thought gave her an idea, and she dashed over to her desk to make a note for herself.

Once she was deeper into the room, she could see out the windows to the street in front of the school, where the first of the big yellow school buses was pulling up. She really wanted a chance to watch the kids piling off the buses, playing on the playground, and interacting before she met them in her classroom.

She grabbed her coat and hurried out of the classroom, nearly colliding with another teacher as she tried to put it on and jog at the same time.

“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry,” Becca gasped, trying to untangle her hand from her coat so she could offer it to the other woman. “I’m Becca Hawthorne, the new second grade teacher.”

“Denise Staley,” the other woman said, wrinkling her nose as she took Becca’s hand and shook it. “I’m the other second grade teacher. You had a lot of questions.”

Mrs. Staley’s tone was just the tiniest bit accusatory.

Becca bit her lip. She had found the other woman’s email address on the school website and sent her an introduction, and what she thought were just a few questions. But it probably had been a lot, if the expression on the face of the tall lady gazing down at her was anything to go on.

“Sorry, that probably could have waited until we met in person,” Becca said. “I’m just really excited about this job.”

“That’s fine,” Mrs. Staley said, a faint smile appearing on her face. “I’ve got to get my coffee now though, so maybe after school?”

“Yes, perfect,” Becca told her, suddenly remembering why she had been in such a rush in the first place. “I’ve got to run now too. I’m going to miss the bus.”