But here was another emotional shift. For nearly twenty years, Sunny's husband had held her responsible for having a mother like Delilah. But he had to move on, and she had to give him a push. "I don't need to discuss it with Dan," she said, never as sure of anything as she was of this.

Delilah looked hurt. "Do you hate us that much?"

"No, Mother," Sunny scolded, feeling an odd affection. "I've never hated you. This has nothing to do with who you are, but with who I am. I'm Jessica's mother." She moved closer to the girl. "I want my daughter here."

"She doesn't embarrass you?"

Inching closer still, Sunny said, "No. I need her with me. She has friends who need her here, too."

Jessica leaned into her just enough to say she agreed.

"But we traveled all this way to get her," Delilah argued and looked around. "Samson? Samson? Where are you?"

Samson was asleep on the living room sofa. He still had his coat on, but he had kicked off his boots. Not that, just then, Sunny cared. There were other things that mattered. Besides, she had the Bentley of vacuums in her broom closet right down the hall.

By late Saturday, Susan's little house was full. Kate and Will were there with Mary Kate and one of the twins; Sunny and Dan had driven over with Jess and Darcy. Sunny was cooking up a storm in the kitchen, and if she was occasionally frustrated not finding a little something she wanted-No lemon zester? Every kitchen needs a lemon zester!-Susan forgave her.

Likewise the mess in the bathroom, where Kate and five girls were playing with Kool-Aid-Great Bluedini, Blue Raspberry, Ice Blue Island Twist. The point was to dye skeins of yarn suitable for boys, and if Jess learned she was having a girl, they would repeat the exercise using Pink Lemonade.

The tub was a mess, which might have bothered Sunny if she hadn't known to steer clear. For Susan, it was a vote of confidence, friends saying that Lily's baby would be fine.

Buoyed, she was returning to the kitchen when the phone rang. "I'm being pressured," Phil said, his voice tense. "You have to help me here. The school board wants to see you Wednesday night at six. Can you make it?"

"Of course," Susan said. What choice did she have?

Actually, there was one. She thought about it long and hard through dinner in her busy house, but it wasn't until they were having coffee and dessert in the living room, kids mostly on the floor with the seating space full, that Rick said a soft, "You're only half with us. What're you thinking?"

She met his gaze. "Maybe I should resign."

"You're not serious."

"The board's going to ask me to. Phil might have, if he hadn't felt so bad about the baby, but if the board does it first, he's off the hook. Maybe I should keep my dignity and volunteer to leave."

The room had grown gradually quiet.

"Did you just say what I thought you said?" Kate asked, pausing with her elbows up, midway through tacking a handful of curls to the back of her head.

Susan didn't deny it. "There are times when I feel like I'm swimming upstream."

Kate pushed the knitting needle into her hair. "No. Absolutely not. Do not resign."

"I'm tired," Susan said. "There's part of me that would love to go back to teaching. The English department has an opening for fall. I could hire me before I resign."

"And let Evan Brewer take over? No."

Susan had considered that, too. "Evan is too obvious. Phil knows he would use my job as a stepping-stone to his. Besides, there's plenty of time to do an outside search for a replacement."

"No." This from Sunny.

"For the sake of the kids," Susan argued. "This media stuff isn't good for them."

"Are you kidding? They love it."

"We love it," piped up Darcy, whose innocence made Susan smile, albeit sadly.

"It's a distraction. I'm imposing my own problems on the students. That makes me a not-so-great principal."

"Wrong," said Lily with a ringing echo from Jess.

But Susan wasn't so sure. "I thought I was a good principal. I thought I was a good mother-"

"You are."

"Maybe good, but not good enough. If I'm going to be fired, I should resign now and spare us all the agony." She turned to Rick.

Lips compressed, he shook his head. "Not a good message," he whispered.

"About dignity?" she cried. "What message should I send?"

"That you fight for what you want."

"That you believe in yourself," Kate picked up.

"That there's more than one way of doing things," Sunny put in and turned to her husband. "Can they fire her for this? Actually, don't answer. She can't resign."

If Dan had a reply, he chose not to give it. Same with Will.

"Resign now," Kate said, "and you'll be letting down every mother in town. You'll be admitting blame for having done nothing wrong. Know that phrase 'Don't go near the fire if you can't take the heat?' That's what they'll say. You'll be setting the women's movement back years."

"Totally," declared Mary Kate, but Lily's were the words that struck home.

"I remember when you were in school, Mom. Maybe I was three, maybe four, but when I woke up at night, you'd be studying. If I was sick, you worked in my room. You didn't have to tell me how much it meant to you to get a good job. I could see it. So now I'll be doing the same thing you did, only it'll be easier for me because of you. People will accept me more because of you. It's my future, and you're paving the way. If you turn back now, it'll be like pulling the yarn at the tail of a sweater and unraveling the whole thing. You've worked too hard for that. Don't? Please?"

Chapter 25

The campaign didn't end Saturday night. Kate and Sunny kept calling to keep Susan on track, and while the one call she really wanted was from Pam, she had to settle for Dan, who followed up with a visit on Sunday to study her contract.

His legal opinion? "They can't dismiss you. You haven't violated anything in your contract, and this contract runs for another year. Correlli may choose not to renew it then, but if they try to fire you now, you can sue."

Susan wouldn't sue. Lawsuits were often messy, expensive, and public. It would be bad for her and bad for the town. She still believed resignation might be the compassionate alternative.

Rick disagreed. Once the school week began, he e-mailed from home. A good principal loves her students. She finishes what she begins. A good principal doesn't let outside forces erode her work. And Lily joined up with her dad. A good mother fights. A good mother wants her daughter to have choices.

How fair was that? Not fair at all, but as the school board meeting neared, Susan held the words close.


***

She refused to wear black. Black might be professional, but it was the color of death. Her father had died; her grandson might die; her professional dreams might be shot to smithereens. But she was a color person, and, while moderation was in order, she couldn't squelch her personality. On that score, she and Rick had strategized. She wouldn't be confrontational; quiet dignity was better. If board members wanted to vent, she would hear them out, but she wouldn't be stepped on.

She decided on blue-navy slacks with a lighter, bolder sweater and scarf. She covered her freckles with makeup, and nixed hoop earrings for studs. Granted, the studs were bright red, but they were small-a gift from Lily at her last birthday, and precious for that.

All seven members were present when she arrived at the town hall. Creatures of habit, they sat in their usual places. Pam had laughed about this once, though she, too, was in her usual place now. Likewise, Phil occupied a chair by the wall.

Though the room was quiet, an air of tension suggested there had already been talk. Eyes touched hers only briefly. Susan caught Pam's-please, help me out-before Pam turned to the chairwoman.

"You know why we've asked you to come," Hillary began.

"I'm not entirely sure," Susan confessed. "I know you're upset by the media-"

"Upset is an understatement," one of the men said.

"We're appalled."

"That may be so, Mr. Morgan," scolded Hillary, sounding weary, "but we live in the twenty-first century. I don't like the media being here, either, but this is how things work nowadays."

"Are you saying I'm old?" Carl asked in his gravelly voice. "If that's so, then old is good. We didn't have these kinds of crises when my children were in school."

"We should have acted sooner," someone else said.

"Dr. Correlli should have acted soon-ah," corrected Duncan Haith.

There, in a nutshell, was Susan's problem. Phil's reluctance to force her out was likely what had brought this meeting about. If a majority of the board shared Duncan's frustration, Phil would have no choice but to fire her. Letting her hear the board's anger firsthand would absolve him of guilt.