Chapter 4
charlie
“You’ve got this,” I whispered to myself, stepping back to take in all my hard work.
After two full days of setting up my classroom, it was finished.
“Wow. It’s like a craft store exploded in here,” a cheerful voice called out from the doorway.
I turned to see a woman standing there, dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt.
“Is it too much?” I was suddenly nervous that maybe it was.
I turned back to my classroom. The space was bright and lively, filled with all the colors I could manage to cram into one room.
Multi-colored rugs marked the reading area, play corner, and learning zone.
Soft, warm lamps stood in place of the harsh fluorescents, and every inch of the walls was covered with cheerful posters—alphabet letters, numbers, inspirational quotes, and cut-out shapes in every shade imaginable. It was chaotic.
The woman laughed, stepping fully into the room. “No, it’s amazing. I’m teasing. It’s clear you put a lot of love into this.” She extended her hand with an easy smile. “Hi, I’m Jennifer, but everyone calls me Jennie.”
Her dark hair was pulled up into a loose bun, a few stray curls framing her face. Faint freckles dusted her nose, and her smile was bright, the kind that instantly put you at ease.
“Hi, Jennie.” I took her hand, returning her smile. “I’m Charlotte, but everyone calls me Charlie.”
Jennie narrowed her eyes playfully. “Not from around here, huh?”
I laughed, my Southern drawl slipping. “What gave it away? The accent?”
Jennie grinned. “Just a little bit. Welcome to the Midwest.”
“Thank you,” I said as I straightened my blouse.
“Moved here for family?”
“Nope. I wanted a change of pace.”
“Huh. That’s the first time I’ve heard someone moving to the suburbs of Chicago who had no ties here.”
Jennie seemed likable and honest, which was refreshing.
“The big city felt too big and the country was too small, so this was where I landed.” I laughed. “Plus, the pay in this district was a huge motivating factor.”
She didn’t need to know that I came from money, used my inheritance to buy a house, because other than where I was living, I wanted to do it on my own, which was why I’d moved out here in the first place.
“You make a valid point.” She paused, glancing around the classroom before returning her gaze to me. “Looks like you’re about done here, so would you be down to grab a drink? A few of us are walking to the bar around the corner from the school.”
For a second, I stood there, the words sinking in. My heart warmed, and I could feel the tension I hadn’t even realized I was holding start to ease. She had no idea what she’d done for me. This invitation was everything. It wasn’t about grabbing a drink; it was the sense of being involved.
“Yeah, that sounds great,” I said, my smile probably brighter than I intended, but I couldn’t help it.
“Awesome. You’ll fit right in with the group.”
“Did you hear that Darla’s husband fell in love with the nanny and is now leaving her to move across the country with three kids?”
The last few hours had been more fun than I could’ve imagined.
The bar was buzzing with laughter and the hum of easy conversation.
When Jennie invited me to grab a drink, I hadn’t realized she meant right then and there.
I’d barely had time to flip off the classroom lights and lock up before we headed out together.
At the bar, I met a few other teachers. One of the ladies worked as the attendance clerk, and from what I gathered, she was a source of endless gossip—the good kind.
They were everything I’d hoped for in potential friends—genuine, warm, and open.
As the night went on, stories started flowing about last year’s students, summer vacations, and, of course, the drama that seemed ready to unfold this coming school year.
We were sitting at a large high-top table in the middle of the bar. It was summer, and since the place had a patio, it was still pretty packed for being the middle of the week.
“There’s always something,” one teacher said, leaning in conspiratorially. “This year’s gonna be no different.”
Jennie interrupted with a grin. “Hey, hey, let’s not scare the new girl.” She raised her glass in my direction, her tone playful. “Give her a chance to settle in before we dump all the chaos on her.”
The group burst into laughter, nodding in agreement.
“She’s right,” someone said. “We don’t want to send you running on your first day.”
I laughed along with them, the warmth of their camaraderie wrapping around me. Jennie gave me a wink.
“Tell us everything,” Maura, one of the teachers, said with a grin. “Are you dating? Engaged? Married?”
I took a careful sip of my beer. I didn’t like drinking much, but it felt like part of the social contract tonight. “No, not dating.”
“Why not?” Sara, another teacher, chimed in. “What are you looking for in a partner? Give us the juicy deets.” She wiggled her eyebrows, making everyone laugh.
I laughed too, but my mind wandered. What was I looking for?
It wasn’t that simple. My mom . . . she was old school, strict, and still held on to certain traditions.
Marriage wasn’t something she saw as casual.
She’d want to be involved, to know the person—hell, she was still clinging to the idea of something close to an arranged marriage.
The marriage had to be with someone who fell within her social circle.
Although I went against her wishes to stay at home and came up here to work, I think she believed this was a stage, but marriage?
That was permanent and not something she’d take lightly.
I smiled through the internal whirlwind, trying to figure out how I was going to explain this without my entire family lore coming out. “Let’s say my mom has . . . expectations,” I said lightly, trying to keep the conversation from going too deep.
“Ah, like she wants you to marry someone from your childhood?” Jennie probed.
“Something like that.” I shrugged.
“My parents were the same way. My husband Jeff and I had dated for as long as I can remember, and I love him dearly, but sometimes I look at social media and wish I had a bad-boy biker phase,” Sara added.
That was nothing like I was saying, but sure.
“Dude. What?” Jennie said, and everyone at the table chuckled.
“What? I was trying to relate.” Sara shrugged and then playfully gave me a squeeze on the shoulder.
“It’s something similar. She wants me to be with someone she’d approve of, so yeah, I’d assume it’d be someone I probably grew up with.”
“Womp.”
“Very.” Maura nodded in agreement.
Lynn, the attendance clerk, leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Alright, if you had to describe your perfect type, what are your must-haves in a partner?”
I let out a small laugh, trying to buy myself a bit of time. “Oh, that’s a good question.”
My mind raced as the group leaned in, waiting for my response. This kind of question wasn’t easy for me—not with the complicated expectations my family had always placed on relationships.
I took a deep breath. “I think my perfect type is a guy who’s open, in touch with his emotions, but also someone who’d defend me—especially to my family—without wavering. I want someone who’s passionate about something, the way I feel about teaching.”
A moment of silence descended as everyone processed my answer, and as I started to feel a bit exposed, Jennie chimed in with a playful grin. “Oh, so you’re looking for a man written by a female author in a romance novel?”
Laughter broke out around the table, and I giggled, shaking my head. “Is that too much to expect?”
Sara leaned in with a smirk. “Someone hot as fuck too, right?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, that would help, for sure.”
The group burst into laughter again, and for the first time in a long while, I felt completely at ease.
These women—this group—they were the kind of people I hadn’t realized I was missing.
They weren’t anything like the girls I grew up with at home, and maybe I could have a group of girlfriends, somewhere I fit in.
“She probably wants someone like Jeff.” Sara sighed and took a sip of her beer.
“She does not want a Jeff . . .” Lynn raised an eyebrow as she shook her head vigorously at me. “Trust me, you don’t want that.”
Sara playfully stuck her tongue out at us, and Jennie started telling us about how she’d seen our assistant principal at the beach this summer and how he’d barely acknowledged her.
Growing up, everything in our house felt like it followed a script.
Every conversation, every gathering, was done in the formal living room, where the furniture was pristine, barely touched except for special occasions.
Nothing ever happened spontaneously. Every visit, every discussion was preplanned, sometimes weeks in advance.
There was no room for last-minute fun or laughter, and everything had an air of formality, like we were walking on eggshells to maintain appearances.
Even casual moments felt rehearsed, with expectations of how we were supposed to behave.
I had friends, but most of them felt the same—rigid, always watching their words, careful not to say anything that would stir the pot.
When they did let their guard down, it wasn’t to share something real—it was to manipulate, to backstab, to use me in one way or another.
There was never anything genuine or fun about it.
Sitting here, joking about partners and laughing with these women felt worlds apart from all that. It was much lighter. This wasn’t the life I was used to, but it was the one I’d always hoped for. For the first time in ages, I didn’t have to be on edge, and I didn’t have to perform.
As Jennie continued her story about the assistant principal, I let myself relax into my chair. This was spontaneous and real.