After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Leif sets down his sandwich. “I appreciate you taking the time today. You’ve got a lot on your plate.”
I shrug. “Forty minutes for lunch is hardly a sacrifice.”
“Still. I appreciate it.” He folds his sandwich wrapper into quarters. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened at the school.”
I set down my spoon, giving him my full attention. “The meeting with the dean?”
“Yes. According to Carson, the school has received what he called ‘community feedback’ about Sprinkles.” His fingers form air quotes around the phrase. “Nothing formal yet, but enough that he called a support plan review.”
“What kind of feedback?” I ask.
“Concerns about classroom space and distractions for other students.” Leif’s mouth thins. “He said that some parents have voiced concern that Quinn received her accommodations because the Wright Pack donated to the school.”
A muscle tics in his jaw as he speaks. “And what was Carson’s proposed solution?”
“Increased visibility.” Leif unfolds the sandwich wrapper and refolds it. “More documentation of Sprinkles’s training maintenance. Quarterly updates from Quinn’s therapist. Regular check-ins with Carson himself.”
He stops, taking a sip of water before continuing. “And he suggested I become more involved with Pinecrest Academybeyond Quinn’s classroom. He flagged multiple opportunities, which include advisory committee work, after-school tutoring, and substitute teaching.”
The picture becomes clearer with each detail Leif shares. Carson isn’t demanding anything outrageous so far, but if Leif wants to avoid being near the man, this is the exact opposite.
“It would strengthen Quinn’s support system,” Leif continues, still fidgeting. “He said increasing my presence at the school would help her accommodation be more accepted.”
“How do you feel about working under his supervision again?” I ask.
Leif’s eyes jump to mine. “I would be working with other teachers and parents.”
It wouldn’t end there, but he seems determined to believe the lie.
“How did the Wrights respond?” I ask, pushing my empty soup bowl aside.
“They were practical about it.” Leif straightens his water bottle so it aligns with the edge of the table and his sandwich wrapper. “Nothing Carson proposed violates any policies, and Quinn keeps Sprinkles in the classroom with her, where he’s needed. The documentation is a nuisance, but not unreasonable on paper.”
I recognize how leverage is applied slowly so it goes unnoticed until it’s too late. Early in our relationship, when I still had friends, Auren did the same, isolating me before I realized what was happening. By that point, it was already too late.
“As for my involvement at the school,” Leif continues, “they left the decision to me. Blake said they could hire an educational advocate to attend meetings instead, but…”
“But doing so might escalate tensions,” I finish for him.
“Yes.” He exhales slowly. “And at the end of the day, Carson is still Quinn’s dean. I don’t want to create a situation where she’s left caught in the middle.”
I consider his words, hearing what he’s not saying. Carson has crafted a way that Leif can’t avoid him by using Quinn’s well-being as bait, knowing Leif’s protective nature won’t allow him to risk her stability.
“What will you do?” I ask.
Leif rubs the back of his neck. “I haven’t decided yet. The parent advisory committee meets in the evenings, which wouldn’t affect my schedule with Quinn. The tutoring would be more complicated.”
A worker from my crew passes our table, nodding in greeting, and I return the gesture. When I look back at Leif, I find him studying me in a way that warms my skin.
“What would you do?” he asks.
The question catches me off guard, and I take a moment to organize my thoughts. I don’t understand enough about Leif’s situation to give solid advice. I can only go off my instincts and the one interaction I had with the new dean of Pinecrest Academy.
“Honestly? I’d be careful not to give more than I could sustain,” I answer. “I got the impression Carson is the type of person who will rise in the ranks by stepping on the backs of his colleagues. They bank on you overextending yourself rather than disappointing others.”
Surprised by my directness, his eyebrows shoot up.
“Whatever you decide,” I add, “pick a level of involvement you can sustain. Quinn needs consistency, not exhaustion.”