Chapter 5
“How do I look?” Brett tugged on the collar of his crisp blue IZOD polo shirt.
“Nervous,” Morgan teased. “Like you’re going to a job interview.”
“I hope Blanchard isn’t one of those strict teachers whose teaching philosophy is my way or the highway,” her brother replied.
“I can’t be certain, but I don’t believe so. I logged onto the school’s website to check her out before I left the house this morning. She’s young.”
His eyes flickered with surprise. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because I did.” Morgan, after the siblings were cleared by security and allowed to enter, gave her brother a gentle nudge and followed him through the double doors of the brown brick building.
Despite all grades being taught on one campus and under the same roof, it was a surprisingly sprawling complex.
After a quick stop at the office to sign in, the receptionist directed them back out into the main hall.
A podium board pointed left toward the elementary grades, while to the right were grades 7 through 12.
“How many kids attend school here?”
“Forty five,” Morgan said.
“Sounds about right. There were only a couple of kids in my graduating class.”
“That would have made field trips fun.”
“Heck yeah. We took the ferry to the mainland, weather permitting and if the ferry was running. We got to go bowling and to the arcade. It was a blast.”
“I can’t imagine knowing all my classmates.”
“From the oldest to the youngest,” Brett said. “It had advantages and disadvantages. We’re here.” He stopped in front of the 5th / 6th grade classroom door. A photo of a young teacher was above the placard, smiling but with a no-nonsense look on her face.
“That’s Ms. Blanchard.”
“She’s younger than I envisioned.” Brett cleared his throat and held the door for his sister.
Stepping inside was like being transported back in time to when Morgan was in grade school.
It looked like your average classroom, although slightly dated.
A large green chalkboard covered an entire wall, while a wall of windows overlooked the snowy landscape.
The aroma of disinfectant, mingled with the musty smell of books lingered in the air.
Ms. Blanchard sat at the desk, watching as they crossed the room. She shoved her chair back and stood, with a cautious smile on her face. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Brett held out his hand. “Ms. Blanchard?”
“Yes. You must be Mr. Easton.”
“I am. This is my sister, Morgan. I asked her to come with me to meet you.”
The women shook hands. “Please have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Morgan perched on the edge of her chair while Brett took the one to her left, sitting ramrod straight and appearing slightly uncomfortable.
The teacher shuffled through a small stack of papers on her desk. “You’ve enrolled Tristan Blakeley in my fifth-grade class.”
“I have,” Brett confirmed.
“Along with Jeff Blakely. I met him the other day when he brought Tristan in. I understand you’re his current guardian, along with Mr. Blakely, who is…”
“Tristan’s uncle.”
She set the papers aside and clasped her hands. “I appreciate your visit. I have no doubt Tristan will go through a period of adjustment. As I’m sure you’re aware, because of the small classroom sizes, the students are all well acquainted.”
“I attended Easton Island Public Schools myself and knew the names of every kid in school,” Brett said. “I want Tristan to feel comfortable coming here. Having said that, I’m aware he might struggle, at least in the beginning.”
“Are there any other ten-year-old boys?” Morgan asked.
“We have two ten-year-old boys and a ten-year-old girl.” Ms. Blanchard explained that since the students attended classes in the same building, age wasn’t as big of an issue.
“Almost all the students get along well. Of course, there are always a few who can be…headstrong. Like I mentioned, I’ve met Tristan, but first impressions can be hard to determine a child’s personality.
Would you describe him as reserved…shy…outgoing? ”
“He’s polite, well-mannered, adventurous. He can be reserved at first, but he warms up quickly,” Brett said. “Tristan moved here from Nevada. So far, he loves the snow and winter activities.”
“I noted this when I went over his previous school records.” Ms. Blanchard picked up a pen and began writing. “We didn’t discuss Tristan’s home life while he was here. Is his uncle living on Easton Island as well?”
Morgan and Brett exchanged a quick glance. “He travels but plans to stay at Easton Estate when he isn’t working.”
“You don’t have to answer, but it might be helpful if I could put the pieces together…how you became his co-guardian. I’m guessing you are somehow related.”
“I’m Tristan’s biological father.”
Blanchard’s jaw dropped. “Tristan Blakely is an Easton?”
“His mother and I divorced a long time ago. She lived in Nevada, and I only recently learned I had a son…after Addison’s death.”
“I see.” She leaned back in her chair, and Morgan could see she was trying to process the information.
“With a lot of support from the family, he’s done pretty well at adjusting so far,” Morgan said. “He’s nervous about starting school. My brother, Brett, and I are trying to make the transition as easy and seamless as possible.”
“The fact that you’re here and clearly concerned about his wellbeing speaks volumes.
I’ll be honest, there isn’t anyone on the island who doesn’t know about the Easton family.
I’ve heard the rumors, read the stories and was more than a smidgen curious about how Tristan ended up here.
The fact that his last name isn’t Easton might be a good thing. ”
“Because it would put a target on Tristan’s back,” Morgan said.
“Correct. I’m not saying it would, but it could.” The teacher rifled through the stack of papers. “I’ve received copies of his school records. He doesn’t have the worst grades, but not the best either.”
“His previous home life was somewhat unstructured,” Brett said. “I’m hoping once he gets settled, his grades will improve.”
“You mentioned he was enjoying our winter weather. Is he interested in sports? I don’t see that he’s been involved in sports at his previous school. Easton Island Public Schools partners with the mainland school to offer extracurricular activities.”
“I honestly don’t know,” Brett confessed. “Maybe. If he is, we would definitely encourage him to participate.”
The teacher gave them a brief rundown of a typical classroom day.
It sounded a lot like what Morgan had experienced growing up.
The teacher appeared to be on top of her game, focusing on learning but encouraging individuality in her students, a tricky feat considering she was teaching at multiple grade levels.
Brett asked the right questions, and the more they talked, the more Morgan relaxed. Tristan would do fine. Hopefully, he would make friends easily.
Although he hadn’t come right out and told his aunt what his home life had been like, the snippets he’d shared led her to believe Tristan was forced to grow up quickly. There wasn’t a lot of time to “be a kid.”
Hopefully, life on Easton Island, surrounded by his father, aunt and great-grandmother along with a staff who was like family, would allow him to thrive in his new environment.
Despite the advantage of having whatever he needed provided under the watchful eye of those caring for him, Morgan knew he would face a few obstacles, especially if word spread that he was an Easton.
Although most residents appreciated what the family had done to make island life better, including building the new airport, supporting local charities, donating to the island’s hospital, several still held grudges, including her grandmother’s nemesis, Naomi Renaud.
Morgan only hoped Tristan would have time to make friends and settle in before the other children found out who he was.
Ms. Blanchard handed Brett a copy of the school calendar. “Thanks to the generous donations of your grandmother, Elizabeth Easton, all breakfasts and lunches are included, so you won’t have to worry about packing a lunch or sending money to school.”
The teacher stood, signaling that their meeting was ending. “Do you have any other questions I can answer?”
“No.” Brett glanced at the calendar before folding it in thirds. “I appreciate your time.”
“Teacher / parent conferences are next month. I’ll be able to update you then, to let you know how Tristan is doing.” She escorted them to the door. “If some sort of crisis arises that needs addressing, I have your cell phone number in Tristan’s file.”
Brett shook her hand. “Thank you for meeting with us.”
“You’re welcome. I look forward to welcoming him to my class.”
Morgan thanked her and followed her brother into the hall. Neither of them spoke until after stopping by the office and signing out.
“Well?” she asked while climbing into Brett’s sedan. “What do you think of Tristan’s teacher?”
“She seems competent and kind.”
“Agreed. Being in a small classroom setting will be a big change for Tristan.”
“It will. He’ll either thrive or struggle,” Brett said. “I’m going to think only positive thoughts and say that by this time next month he’ll never want to leave Easton Island.”
“Me too, Brett. Me too.”