Beyond Midnight (11 page)

Alas, his first impression was not the best impression. From out of nowhere chubby little Alexander Lagor, an impressionable three-year-old, ran up and ambushed him from the rear, screaming,
"
Stranger! Stranger!
"
and hurled his little metal Thomas The Tank Engine at him.

Nathaniel Byrne whirled and said,
"
What the devil—?
"
By now Alexander had retreated behind his mother
'
s skirts, still screaming at the top of his lungs and pointing at the interloper; it was far and away the child
'
s most violent reaction to someone new. In the meantime one or two other kids began screaming in sympathy, like crows mobbing a hawk. The rest of the mothers held their children
'
s hands more tightly and gave Nathaniel Byrne a wide berth as they hurried out, throwing him
wary
glances as they passed.

Nathaniel Byrne, coloring deeply, bent down and picked up the little blue train engine and began walking toward Alexander and his mother with it.
"
Your son seems to have dropped this,
"
he said dryly.

Alexander
'
s screams were rising by decibels and octaves; he was on the verge of true hysteria. Byrne dared not approach any more closely. He placed the toy carefully on the floor in front of the boy and his mother, stood up, and began walking away from them toward Peaches and his daughter.

"
C
'
mon, Katie,
"
he said abruptly, extending his hand to her. He glanced at the door.

Leaving. He was leaving and taking Katie with him.

"
Mr. Byrne! Good heavens, you can
'
t just go!
"
Helen called out to him.
"
Wait right there. Hi, Katie!
"
she added in her cheeriest voice, pivoting her hand back and forth at the child.

She ran up to Alexander
'
s overprotective mother and
after
a short struggle was able to reassure her that Nathaniel Byrne wasn
'
t really the bogeyman, despite the dark suit and the scowl.
"
He
'
s just someone
'
s father. Really, Mrs. Lagor,
"
she added in an undertone,
"
we
'
re going to have to discuss Alexander
'
s fear of strangers. It
'
s getting worse. Please call me tomorrow to arrange a time.
"

"
My son is not afraid. He
'
s cautious,
"
the mother said in a voice wound tight.
"
As he should be.
"

"
Yes, but—please. Call me.
"
Without waiting for her response, Helen turned to her thoroughly offended client.

There they were, face-to-face: Helen Evett, director of what she thought was the best da
rn
preschool in
Salem
; and Nathaniel Byrne, who looked as if he
'
d just tripped and stumbled into the seventh circle of hell.

She stuck out her hand to him and said,
"
Hello, I
'
m Helen Evett,
"
before Peaches had time to make the introduction.

Byrne was obviously still smarting from his treatment by little Alexander.
"
So this is The Open Door,
"
he said as he watched the toddler being carried out, sti
ll
sniffling, by his mother.
"
That means—what? That you take anyone, including baby psychopaths?
"

Helen didn
'
t approve of flippancy in front of little ones. She gave Katie a cheerful hello and then said in soft warning to Byrne,
"
Some children are more fearful than others. We don
'
t belittle them for it.
"

Blue eyes—bluer even than Katie
'
s—looked into her gray ones without remorse.
"
That kid needs work,
"
Byrne said flatly.

"
He needs reassurance. That
'
s what we
'
re here for.
"

Helen turned to Peaches with relief; here, at least, was a friendly face. The look in her eyes was as sympathetic as the half-amused smile on her lips.
"
Ignore the guy,
"
she seemed to say.
"
What does
he
know?
"

"
Nice to see you again,
"
Helen said, extending her hand to Katie
'
s beautiful nanny.

"
What a wonderful location you have! I love all the little ones
'
artwork,
"
Peaches said, looking around her with pleasure.
"
Aren
'
t the drawings fun, Katie?
"

Katie, like all egocentric three-year-olds, could care less. It wasn
'
t her own stuff that was hanging on the wall. She yawned and looked around without seeing.

The last of the mothers were straggling out; Helen couldn
'
t help noticing how drawn they were to the strikingly attractive trio standing next to her. By far, the biggest draw of the three was Katie
'
s dad. There was no shortage of attractive Mommies or adorable toddlers at the preschool; but to-die-for men like Nathaniel Byrne didn
'
t walk through the open door of The Open Door every day.

In the meantime Byrne, hands in his pocket, seemed immersed in his own line of thought.
"
I mean, right now Katie is pretty outgoing,
"
he said, oblivious to the mothers
'
stares.
"
But I
'
d hate to see her come out of preschool acting like—
"

With a lazy nod toward the exit Alexander had just passed through, Byrne made it clear that he thought The Open Door could do more harm than good for Katie.

Helen
'
s eyebrows went up ever so slightly. It was too ironic, giving Katie preferential treatment just to be told the school might be a bad influence on her.

"
The subject of how toddlers should deal with strangers is a bit complex, Mr. Byrne,
"
she said.
"
Perhaps now is not the best time to go into it.
"

She inclined her head toward Katie, who was hanging from Peaches
'
s hand and pivoting on one foot as she swung her other arm in a wide arc for extra momentum. Everything about the child said bored, bored, bored.

"
Fair enough,
"
said Byrne, taking Helen
'
s rebuke in stride. He looked at her for a second or two longer than he needed to; she had the sense that it was a quick and easy form of intimidation with him.
"
Suppose you take us on that
ni
ck
el
tour, then,
"
he suggested.

"
My pleasure,
"
said Helen coolly.

Damn,
he was a pain! She
'
d been expecting a certain amount of arrogance from Byrne; the man was a stock trader, after all. But his reluctance to sign Katie up had caught her by surprise. She didn
'
t know how to handle him. It had been a long time since she
'
d had to sell someone on The Open Door; most parents arrived hats in hand, eager and sometimes desperate to get their children into the school.

Not this fella.

Helen took a deep breath.
Whatever it takes to get Katie registered,
she told herself, no longer questioning why. Feeling a little like a snake-oil salesman, she began selling her school as hard as she could. First stop: reception desk.

"
This is Janet Harken, our administrative assistant and the school
'
s guardian angel,
"
Helen said with obvious affection.
"
Janet does everything around here but walk on water.
"

Laughing off the compliment, the youthful grandmother handed Byrne another brochure on The Open Door and offered Katie a big pink flower-shaped sticker that said
"
Visitor
"
on it. Byrne slid the brochure into his inside suit pocket without a glance. But Katie, staring at the huge hot pink sticker on her chest, was ready to sign up then and there.

One down, two to go.

They stepped acros
s the hal
l to Helen
'
s office, a calm and cozy environment decorated in celadon tones and rich woods, with a potted palm on the floor and tumbles of ivy dotting the bookshelves. A vase stuffed with cheery supermarket flowers adorned the walnut partners desk, the desk for which Helen no longer had a partner.

"
I just need to get the keys to the kitchen and the lunchroom,
"
Helen explained as they went in.

She was retrieving a key ring from her top drawer when Katie made a dash for a heavy glass globe that Helen used as a paperweight.
"
What
'
s this?
"
the child asked, reaching up with both hands for it.

"
Careful, honey!
"
Helen said, whisking the clear glass ball out of her reach.
"
You wouldn
'
t want this to fall on your toes!
"

"
What is it?
"

"
I use it to keep the wind from blowing my papers everywhere,
"
she explained. She relocated the ball onto a high shelf and said,
"
Shall we continue our tour?
"

As they approached the classrooms Helen began ticking off the school
'
s solid credentials.
"
We
'
re accredited by the national associations, of course, and by the FIDCR, in addition to OFC. It
'
s in the brochure. You
'
ll notice also that we have an even better ratio of adults to three-year-olds than is recommended by the conservative AAP and NAEYC—
"

"
Sorry, you
'
re losing me,
"
Byrne interrupted.

"
It
'
s in the brochure,
"
she said, realizing that his world was AMEX and NASDAQ. She added,
"
I
'
m proud to say the turnover rate of our teachers is very, very low. The staff have been thoroughly screened, and all of the teachers have degrees in early childhood education. I should warn you that that isn
'
t always the case.
"

"
I
'
m not really interested in other cases,
"
he said flatly.
"
I
'
m here to learn about The Open Door.
"

Stung, Helen colored and said,
"
I understand.
"
He was right. Why was she resorting to scare tactics? Again this
desperation! It was utterly beneath her. Embarrassed and off balance, she tried to rally her wits—which would
'
ve been a heck of a lot easier if he weren
'
t being so arrogant. And, of course, if he were less damn good-looking.