Sam Samuels rubbed his stiff neck. He’d removed his tie and unbuttoned the top button on his dress shirt. He’d left his sports coat in his truck, but he still felt over-dressed. By now he should have shed his business attire for worn jeans and a tee shirt.
He’d put in a long day. His notebook page was full of ways the school security system needed to be improved. It had taken years to get the board to agree to look at a plan and proposal for his company to do the job. Small town-folks in Georgia weren’t into change, but recent violence in so many schools, even small-town ones, pointed to the need for caution everywhere.
Sam had waited until after his regular calls to begin this part of his plan. His son was a student here and he’d make it a safe place for Sean, even if he had to cut his price to the bone, past cost. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d cut his price to put a good security system where it was needed. The one at his parents’ church and the community center had been donations, pure and simple. Nothing was more important than taking care of family.
Sam’s mobile phone startled him.
“Samuels, here, too, Dad. Coach said to remind you I need my physical exam papers and your permission slip by next Wednesday or I can’t start Spring practice.”
“Well, Samuels, your doctor’s appointment is Friday at four and I’ve already signed the permission slip.”
“Oh, yeah. Got a library stop after supper with Bill and his parents, then some of the guys wanted to ...”
“Don’t be late.”
“But I don’t have school tomorrow.”
“Not one minute after eleven, you know the rules.”
Sam grinned as he broke the connection. Sean always made curfew at the last minute. One mess-up, one speeding ticket, or even one bad grade and he’d lose the Corvette his mother bought him. He’d lose the car and football. For a traffic offense he’d surrender his driver’s license, his mother’s rule. Shared custody had worked well, especially with her traveling on business a lot since the divorce.
He rubbed his five o’clock stubble, then started on his second page of meticulous notes. His cramped handwriting made his eyes hurt. He shouldn’t have left his reading glasses in the truck.
Clicking heels on wood distracted him. The wearer sounded small but business-like, in a hurry. He glanced in the direction of the feminine sound. The lady wore navy hose and a navy skirt. He smiled and nodded at Ms. Roberts as she passed him on her way to the parking lot. “Good evening,” he said to her back as she barely slowed her exit, leaving a light floral scent to wrap around him.
Her impersonal nod toward him could have been meant for anyone. “And a good evening to you, too,” he
muttered to the closing door. Typical for her. She wasn’t the friendliest woman he’d ever met. Most women at least gave him a smile when he spoke to them. Suddenly his gut cramped. He glanced around the deserted hall. Familiar pressure built in his head. A premonition attack was coming on. Why now? Why when his son’s teacher had passed by? He didn’t need an attack now. He hurried to the school parking lot to catch up with the cause of his discomfort. He’d finish his figures later.