4. Chapter 4
Chapter four
“Above your pay grade, Polly.”
On Tuesday, Bailey appeared at Wes’ open door after last period. He looked up from his desk and waved her in. “Come on in, Bailey.” He’d been thinking about their conversation on Sunday and wanted to follow up. So, he’d sent for her.
She stepped into the room. “Am I in trouble? I swear I haven’t told anyone.”
“That’s not why I asked you to come see me. Close the door and have a seat.”
Bailey carefully closed the door, then went to one of the two chairs in front of the desk and sat on the edge of it. “I’m sorry I came to your house. I know I shouldn’t have.”
“Bailey, you’re not in trouble. I’m just a little concerned about why you jumped to that conclusion.”
“About you being my…” She looked down at her hands and picked at her blue nail polish. “It was dumb.”
“Did you spend the summer with your dad?”
“Yeah. Every summer in Seattle. I really hate Seattle.”
“But things went okay with your dad?”
“Yeah. It’s just…” She let the sentence drop.
He cocked his head. “It’s just what?”
“He wants me to move there after I graduate. He says if I do, I can go to Cornish.”
Wes thought for a moment. “Performing arts?”
“Yeah. Which would be cool. I’d love that. But…Seattle. And…”
“You don’t want to live with your dad?”
“He says it’s close, and he’d get me a new car. He has a big house…” She looked at her hands again. “I guess it wouldn’t be that bad. But he has a girlfriend and…it’s just weird now.”
“It’s a great school. Did you have somewhere else in mind?”
She smiled. “The San Francisco Conservatory of Music.”
Wes raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Um…that’s really cool.”
“Mr. Fuller says he’s sure I’d be accepted if I applied.”
“Have you done that yet?”
“No. Mom wants me to go to Boise State first for a couple of years, then transfer to somewhere further away.”
“Hmm.”
“I don’t see the big deal. I’ll be away from home in Boise, too, just not quite as far as San Francisco. But now, this thing with Dad. She’d probably be okay with that since he’s there. Shouldn’t I be able to make my own decision about where I want to go?”
“Um…I tend to agree with that statement. But…”
“You’re not my parent.”
“Right.”
She finally made direct eye contact with him. “Would you talk to Mom about it?”
“I’m not so sure she’ll listen to me. Or that it’s my place.”
“Would you try? I don’t understand why I need to waste two years in Boise just because she doesn’t want to let me get too far away.”
Wes leaned back in his chair. “I’ve heard you play, Bailey. You’re very talented. I didn’t realize you were into classical music, though.”
“I love it. I just don’t get to play it with the orchestra. Mr. Fuller likes more modern stuff. But he’s heard me play, and he said I was good. I think I’m good.”
He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk. “Bailey, I will talk to your mom about this.”
“You will?”
“Yeah. No promises, though.”
“Thank you.”
“The most important thing you can do right now is to keep playing. Everything else will fall into place.”
She stood, then blushed. “I guess I wanted…well, you’re so much cooler than Mom and Dad.”
“If I truly were your father, you probably wouldn’t think so.”
Bailey left the office, and Wes swiveled in his chair for a moment. Cassandra usually left by four. He should just get it over with. He left his office and ran into Polly in the hallway.
“Headed home early again?”
“No. I need to talk to Cassandra. Is she still in her office?”
“I haven’t seen her leave.” Polly looked at him for a moment. “Does this have anything to do with her daughter just leaving your office?”
Wes smiled. “Above your pay grade, Polly.” He looked at the papers in her hands. “Are those for me?”
“Yes. Permission slips for the senior class trip.”
“Why so many?”
“Mr. Bishop asked you last year if he could open it up to more kids by fundraising for those who couldn’t afford it.”
“Oh, right. Only Mr. Bishop isn’t here this year.”
Polly held out the papers. “Do you want to be the one to tell some of these kids they can’t go?”
“Um…no.” He took them from her. “Is this the whole senior class?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“And what’s the status of the fundraising?”
“You’ll need to talk to Mrs. Alpert. She’s in charge of the effort.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to her.”
“So, if Mr. Bishop isn’t going…” She glanced toward Cassandra’s office.
“No. I’ll find someone else to be my number two.”
“Okay.” She turned and headed for the reception desk.
Wes returned to his office to leave the paperwork on his desk, then went to Cassandra’s door. It was open, and she was at her desk, humming along to whatever song was coming through the earbud she wore.
When she didn’t hear him knock, he went to the desk and knocked on it. She looked up, startled, then pulled the earbud from her ear. “Oh my gosh, you scared me. Why didn’t you knock?”
“I did. Your music might be a little too loud.” He could hear the tune, but couldn’t quite make it out.
She paused the song on her phone. “Did you need something?”
“I um… Can I sit?”
“Sure.”
Wes sat down. “I just saw Bailey in my office.”
“She came to you again?”
“No. I called her in.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to make sure everything was okay between her and her father.”
She cocked her head. “Why wouldn’t it be? And why is it your concern?”
“If one of my students is having an issue, I like to get to the bottom of it.”
“What makes you think she has an issue with her father?”
Wes brushed a piece of lint from his pants, then crossed his legs. “You yourself said kids sometimes wish they had a different parent. In my mind, there is usually a reason for that wish.”
Cassandra leaned back in her chair. “He wants her to move to Seattle and go to school there.”
“Right, Cornish. She told me.”
“It’s a great school.”
“I agree. I don’t think the school is the issue.”
“She doesn’t like Seattle.”
“More specifically, I believe she doesn’t like the new girlfriend.”
Cassandra sat forward. “Girlfriend?”
Wes smiled. “You didn’t know.”
“Bastard.”
“Why do you care if he had a girlfriend?”
“We agreed to…keep each other informed and meet the person spending time with our daughter.”
“Maybe it’s really new.”
She shook her head. “It’s not. He’s been cagey for months, and I knew Bailey was keeping something from me. He obviously told her…” She cut herself off and took a breath. “I still don’t see why she came to you about this.”
“I called her in.”
“Right. You said that.”
“She wants to go to school in San Francisco.”
“I know.”
“Why don’t you want her to do that?”
“Weston?”
“You want your daughter to be happy, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then why not let her go to the school of her dreams? Surely you and Nick can afford to send her.”
“It’s not the money. It’s the…” She tapped the desk with her nails. “I can’t believe I’m having this discussion with you.”
“Just pretend I’m the principal coming to you with a concern about one of our seniors.”
“The competition at the conservatory is fierce. Bailey has always been the best piano player. The best singer. She hasn’t had to fight for a place. She hasn’t had to prove herself.”
“Maybe it’s time for her to realize that there will always be someone better than her. Someone with more drive. Someone who wants it more than she does.”
“She’s my baby, Wes.”
“I know, and I’m not a parent. I don’t know what that feels like. But you can’t protect her from the real world forever.”
“I just want her to go to Boise for two years and get a taste of the real world.”
“I get that. She asked me to talk to you. Ultimately, of course, it’s up to you and Nick. I just thought you should know what’s on your daughter’s mind.”
She nodded. “She’s really talented.”
“I know. I’ve heard her play.”
“I’ll talk to Nick.”
Wes stood. “Don’t be too hard on him about the new girlfriend.”
“Since when do you care about Nick’s feelings?”
He smiled. “You’re right. I don’t. Give him hell.”
“I plan to.”
He glanced at the poster. “You know, I lied to you about the poster.”
“What? What did you lie about?”
“Billy Simms refused to sign. He figured his autograph would be worth a lot of money someday.”
Cassandra stood and looked at the signatures. “It’s right there.” She turned to look at him. “Did you forge his signature?”
“No. One of his bandmates did.”
“Whatever happened to Billy Simms?”
“He’s probably sitting behind a desk somewhere. Meanwhile, this younger generation is asking, Billy who?”
“Poor Billy. He sure was cute, though.”
“Cute only gets you so far.”
She looked at him. “I don’t know, Mr. B. It seems to be working for you.”