Principal Hopes: Sprucedale Teachers Series, #1

By Brynn Winters

When the ambitions of two former friends clash, a much-loved, small-town community school could become the casualty.

 

Sprucedale Community School principal Joyce Stone has dedicated her career to revitalizing struggling, small-town schools, but now, her career bucket list is empty. Retirement is the next step, or so she thinks, until an unexpected opportunity at the esteemed Silver Heights Preparatory School changes her plans.

 

Former trust fund baby Vanessa Landry is desperately trying to climb her way back up the social ladder after shunning her family's fortune to become a schoolteacher's wife. Her next move? Getting her daughter out of Sprucedale and into Silver Heights. But every time she tries, Joyce is there, getting in her way.

 

Will Joyce be able to save her dream job and protect Sprucedale from her once close friend who will stop at nothing to get what she wants? And what will happen when Vanessa is forced to confront the true cost of her aspirations?

 

A hope-filled, page-turning first novel in the Sprucedale Teachers series about the personal lives of teachers and those they hold close. Dive into this unputdownable story of friendship, ambition, and the power of second chances.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Twisted Daffodil Publishing
• Release date: Sep 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781739069902

Book preview

Chapter One

Principal Joyce Stone needed to print and sign the Notice of Retirement forms to make it official. The deadline was fast approaching, and she had already put it off for weeks. The cursor hovered over the print button.

There was no shame in retiring early, she reminded herself. Anyone would agree that thirty-five years in education was a full career. But she couldn’t shake the thought that she could work another twenty years if she wanted to. The problem lately was she hadn’t much wanted to.

Her attention drifted over her desk to the final bits of accreditation paperwork that were almost ready to be mailed off. The culmination of three years of work by her and her staff would soon come to a close. This last part of the self-study needed for the Triple Pillar Private School Accreditation was all the agency needed before the capstone visit by the accreditation team in the fall. The team would validate the information to ensure Sprucedale Community School met the agency’s three-fold criteria: excellence in academics, attention to the whole child, and community service. Considered the A-list of independent school accreditation, it would put their little community school in the company of elite schools across the country. Thankfully, everything was on track.

Hey, have you got a few minutes? Sprucedale’s secretary poked her head around the wall separating the front office from the principal’s office.

Joyce’s shoulders dropped with the welcome interruption, and she quickly pulled her hand away from the keyboard. I sure do. What’s up, Amy?

Amy hovered in the doorway of Joyce’s small, slightly cluttered office. The wood desk was a clunky relic from the 1950s, and the fake wood vinyl-topped round meeting table off to the side filled the remaining space in the room. Bookshelves lined the far wall with filing cabinets behind the desk. The wall opposite Joyce’s desk held one narrow, vertical window, offering the room’s only natural light source. Framed photos, hand-drawn pictures, and wall hangings gifted over three decades of service from students and their families covered the rest of the wall. It was always either too hot or too cold in the room, depending on the season, and it being the beginning of July, Joyce’s office was definitely too hot.

Amy frowned. We really need to get you a better fan. It’s so stuffy in here.

I’ll add it to the list, Joyce said, knowing there were dozens of things they needed to purchase before ever getting around to buying a fan. But you look cute. Is that a new dress?

Amy twirled, making the bottom of her sundress flare out. You like it? Sam’s taking me into the city to go to the zoo this afternoon. I thought it would be a good summer afternoon date outfit.

When do we get to meet this Sam? Amy had recently joined the school after graduating from the local community college. Joyce couldn’t help but feel a little maternal toward the twenty-year-old since she was the school’s youngest employee and her parents had recently moved away from Washington to Florida for their retirement.

Amy’s cheeks turned pink. I’ll bring him around soon, I promise. But if I want to leave by noon, I need to get to the post office right now. Would you be able to watch the front for me while I’m gone? Or if you’re busy, I could grab the stamps on my way home.

No, do it now, Joyce said, ignoring her laptop. There’s nothing that can’t wait. Just put the bell out on the front counter with the tent card saying we’re in the back office, would you?

Will do! Amy disappeared from the doorway and Joyce heard the front counter drawer opening and closing, then a faint ping as Amy placed the bell at the office window.

Summer office hours were quiet, so the office was only open between nine and noon, Monday through Thursday. Keeping the office open allowed teachers to pop in during their break as they needed, and it helped to accommodate new admissions.

Joyce had always worked through the summer, but she didn’t expect the rest of her staff to do the same. They deserved a break. Joyce enjoyed the quiet, easy-going summer routine. It gave her enough downtime to feel like a break, but enough work to give her a purpose. Amy appreciated the extra hours during the summer since it meant she could leave time-consuming annual tasks for those quiet months when she didn’t have to contend with constant interruptions, like when school was in session.

She turned her chair to face the laptop, knowing nothing more needed to be done to the waiting form but add her signature. Printing the document didn’t make it final, she reasoned, so she clicked the print button, bringing her old office inkjet to life. She was careful not to send it to the communal business printer in the supply room since you could never be sure who was on campus during the summer months and Joyce wasn’t ready to make her plans public.

She reached over and gathered the papers from the printer and set them on her desk when the counter bell pinged. Joyce entered the front office and greeted a young woman at the window, who was expertly juggling a squirming toddler on her hip. Hi, can I help you? Joyce recognized the admissions folder in the woman’s hands and remembered Amy mentioning she expected an application to come in this morning following a tour she had given last week.

Yes, I just wanted to drop this off.

Joyce took the folder from the woman’s outstretched hand, laughing as she dodged the toddler’s inquisitive grasp, and quickly glanced through the package. An older woman approached the outer office door and let herself in. Joyce gave a quick smile to Carol, first grade teacher and Joyce’s friend. Carol didn’t interrupt and retrieved the contents of her mailbox as she waited.

Joyce closed the folder. Looks like we have everything we need. Did you have any questions?

I don’t think so.

Joyce nodded. I’ll pass these along to our office manager for processing. We’re happy to answer any questions that might pop up before school starts in September, so don’t hesitate to come in or call us if you think of anything. She pulled two pieces of colored paper from the stand-up file near the window and handed them over. Calendars and school supply lists are on the website, but here are some hard copies of both, just so you have them.

Okay, thanks! she said, transferring the child’s weight to her other hip. Will someone call me or send me something to let me know if my son’s been accepted?

Joyce understood where this question was coming from. The strict admissions policies of other private schools led families to believe that Sprucedale would be the same. However, as a school conceived, built, and supported by its community, Sprucedale’s mandate was to accept any child who wished to attend as long as there was classroom space and the student’s needs didn’t fall outside their resources. Even tuition was rarely a barrier, since Sprucedale had a history of generous bursary donors and a good response to their annual fundraising. In the eight years that Joyce had been the principal there, every family who applied for financial aid had been approved.

Joyce glanced again at the parent names on the application. Well, Tracey, you’ve done the hard work getting all of this put together. Everything appears to be in order, so we’ll officially add your son’s name to the class list. Congratulations and welcome! If we find we missed something, we’ll give you a quick call to sort it out.

Joyce watched relief pass over Tracey’s face as she gathered up her purse and papers. That’s great news, thank you! I’m sorry, I didn’t ask your name...

It’s Joyce.

Well, thank you so much, Joyce. I guess we’ll see you in September! Tracey smiled once more at Joyce, nodded at Carol, then hurried to the exit.

Humble as ever, I see.

Joyce shuffled the admission papers into a pile and placed them on top of Amy’s keyboard, where she couldn’t miss them. I don’t know what you’re talking about, she said.

You should have told her you’re the principal, Carol chided.

Joyce shrugged. Parents can get tense when they’re introduced to the principal, and she looked like she had enough on her plate at the moment, she explained.

I know principals are superheroes, but do you really need to hide your secret identity? Carol teased.

Joyce smiled at the joke. One thing I’ve learned is sometimes it’s not about you.

Fair enough, Carol conceded, dropping the topic. Amy gone for the day?

She just ran to the post office. Should be back any minute. Need her for something?

Actually, it’s you I came to see, if you’ve got some time.

Joyce thought about the retirement papers waiting for her signature. Of course I do. Come on in.

Joyce helped Carol into a chair by Joyce’s desk, noticing Carol was trying not to wince with the movement. Your hip again? she asked.

Carol let out the breath she’d been holding as soon as she sat down. These summers are the worst. I’ve only been at home for two weeks and my back is already stiff.

See, Joyce said, patting Carol’s shoulder. Working keeps you young.

I don’t disagree with you.

Can I get you anything? Coffee? Joyce asked.

Too hot, Carol answered. Oof, it’s stuffy in here! Why don’t you get a fan?

Joyce nodded to a rusted metal fan spinning on top of a filing cabinet.

Huh, Carol said, frowning. Have you thought about getting one that works?

It’s on the list, Joyce replied. So, she said, taking her own seat, what’s on your mind?

Carol glanced at the accreditation package on the desk. Are we all done with that now?

Just about. I’ll add our projected enrollment count for next year at the end of the month, then it’s off to the agency. That’ll be it until the accreditation team’s visit.

Do you have a date for that?

They’ll contact us when they get this last package to finalize the dates, but it’ll likely be October or November.

You’ve done a ton of work on that, Carol said. You should feel some relief along with a hefty dose of pride, I hope.

It was a team effort.

You, me, and everyone on staff know that the brunt of that work fell on you. Don’t dismiss what you’ve accomplished.

Carol wasn’t wrong. Preparing for accreditation took three years of hard work. Joyce knew she should pat herself on the back for getting this far, but the enthusiasm she had for the project had diminished in the past year. Accreditation would be a boon for the school, and there was, of course, the bonus of being known as the administrator who led the team to success, but lately Joyce had been stuck on the thought that this was it for her. After successfully leading five small, private schools, this accreditation would be the pinnacle of her career. That was when she started thinking it was probably time to retire.

I won’t, Joyce replied, but I don’t think you came in to talk about accreditation, she said, changing the subject.

Carol shifted in her seat. No, I didn’t.

All right, out with it then.

Carol hesitated, making Joyce concerned. She sat up a little straighter. Everything’s ok, isn’t it?

Yes, not to worry. Carol sighed and paused before continuing. I’m seventy.

You don’t say?

Ha ha. My point is, I’m getting on in years. I love my job—you know how much I love my job.

Joyce nodded.

But it’s getting harder to get through the day. You know as well as anyone that teachers are exhausted by the end of the week, no matter their age. Now imagine you’re seventy with a bad hip and running after sixteen first graders every day. I’m so tired by the end of the week.

Joyce had worried about that, too. Are you thinking of retiring?

Carol shrugged. Thinking about it. Last week my doctor very bluntly told me that I shouldn’t work this year, and I should really consider hanging up my teaching hat permanently, but I’ve convinced him I’ve got another year in me. At least. Carol winked.

At least, Joyce echoed. As long as you don’t push yourself so much that you’re suffering in pain every day.

Carol shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Nonsense. It gets stiff and hurts more during summer when I’m not working than it ever does during the school year. I’m just saying, I’m slowing down. Which brings me to what I wanted to tell you: I know the budget’s tight, she said, grinning, so don’t take my aide away from me.

Joyce laughed. If we ever need to cut costs so badly that I have to consider cutting staff, I promise your educational assistant will be safe.

Just making sure, Carol replied with a smile.

Joyce looked at her friend fondly. So that means no retirement?

Carol had been the first teacher to welcome Joyce with open arms when she arrived at Sprucedale eight years ago. With over forty-five years of teaching experience under her belt, most of it at Sprucedale, Carol was both an experienced educator and school historian. Joyce admired Carol’s dedication to her career, as well as her calm, warm personality that worked magic on students and parents alike. Carol had become something of a mentor to Joyce, and while they maintained a professional working relationship, she was also a friend. The feeling was mutual.

What it means is I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet, so yes, you’re stuck with me. But are we stuck with you? Carol tilted her head toward Joyce’s retirement papers she had left face-up on her desk.

Blast! That woman doesn’t miss a thing, Joyce thought. If it helps, Joyce said, quickly gathering the papers, I haven’t signed them yet.

"Does that mean we might talk you out of retiring?"

Joyce knew she could tell Carol anything in confidence. She let the pages fall back to the desk. First off, I’m not going anywhere this year, but, yes, I think it will be my last year. I’m fifty-six. I’ve been working in small schools my entire career, and what do I have to show for it? Her shoulders sagged. It’s time I accept what little I have to show for my efforts and gracefully bow out.

What little you’ve done? Carol’s voice raised a level. This school was close to shutting down before you took it over! Not only did you keep the doors from closing, you breathed new life into this school and turned it completely around, as you have with every other school you’ve been at, I might add. Everyone in this community knows how much you’ve accomplished here. You’re only a few months away from getting this accreditation for the school, which we both know will only elevate the school’s reputation. Don’t sell yourself short!

Joyce nodded. I hear what you’re saying, and I don’t disagree, but—

No buts! Carol paused; her voice softened. What’s actually going on, huh? Something’s been eating at you for months. I thought it was the stress of accreditation, but now I’m not so sure.

The main office door burst open, and they heard Amy call out, Are you back there? I have news!

Carol pointed a crooked finger at Joyce. We’re not done with this conversation.

Understood, Joyce replied, knowing full well she would change the subject if it came up again.

Chapter Two

Amy appeared in Joyce’s doorway, flustered and out of breath. Hey, Carol! How are you?

I’m good, Amy. You look excited.

Amy’s grin went wide as she played coy, linking her hands behind her back and twisting the toe of her shoe on the floor. I know something you don’t know... her voice singsonged.

Joyce rolled her eyes playfully. Oh, for heaven’s sake, out with it.

She leaned forward to tell her secret. The PacNor’st regional nominations for Teacher of the Year are out.

And... Carol prompted.

Amy’s excitement burst open. They nominated Kyle!

Wow, that is good news! Carol said.

That’s fantastic news, Amy, Joyce added. How’d you find out?

Deidre.

From the post office? Carol asked. How did she hear?

Before Amy could launch into what was sure to be a very detailed accounting of small-town gossip, Joyce raised her hand to stop her. Never mind, she said. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about living in small towns these past decades, it’s that nothing is secret.

Amy smiled. Anyway, congratulations, momma! You sure know how to raise ‘em!

All the credit goes to him, Joyce replied.

Well, congratulations anyway. Not to change the subject, but I need to get going, or I’ll be late. I’ll put the stamps in the safe on my way out. Unless you need something else?

No, nothing else for today. You go, and good luck on your date.

She’s going on a date? Carol asked with concern.

With Sam, Joyce answered.

Who’s Sam?

That’s what we all want to know!

Carol turned to Amy. You bring that boy here soon. We need to make sure he’s good enough for you.

Amy blushed. I am quite certain he is, but yes, I promise to bring him by soon so you all can meet him.

And we promise not to say anything to scare him off, Joyce teased.

I’m sure you’ll all conduct yourselves professionally, Amy agreed with a grin. See ya! Amy turned on her heel and left.

Have a good time! Carol called after her. Joyce stayed quiet. Well, mom, your boy’s done well, don’t you think?

Joyce turned her attention back to Carol. Of course. He’s worked hard. He deserves the recognition.

Carol tilted her head as if reading into Joyce’s words. The recognition that perhaps you wish you had had?

Joyce couldn’t argue with that. It’s the second year he’s been nominated. I’d bet he gets it this time.

Pretty good for a relatively new teacher. What’s he up to now? Six years?

Five, actually.

Silver Heights must be a good match for him, then, Carol offered.

Silver Heights Preparatory was everything Sprucedale was not. A kindergarten through eighth grade private school like Sprucedale, Silver Heights was on the eastern edge of the city, a little more than an hour’s drive from Sprucedale. The prep school attracted students from affluent families in the area. The school screamed privilege: they headhunted teachers from across the country, and the campus was only ten years old and boasted every modern educational resource available. Unsurprisingly, tuition was off the charts, and applicants had to go through an extensive process to gain admission. The school had gained Triple Pillar accreditation in its third year and was constantly winning awards for both its school and staff. It boggled Joyce’s mind seeing the benefits money could buy for education. She was at once disgusted and in awe of it all. Not that she would know what it was like to be part of a school like that. She always had an affinity for the underdog and gravitated toward the neediest schools.

He fits in well there, Joyce agreed. I had my reservations when he first told me about the job, but he was a bright new teacher full of ideas, and I wasn’t about to dampen any of that. Joyce’s phone buzzed with a text message.

That’s what makes you a wonderful mom and administrator, Carol said. You see potential and give them space to grow, then get out of their way.

Sorry, Carol, I was distracted. What was that?

It’s okay. Who’s that?

Kyle, it seems.

Well, speak of the devil. What’s he have to say?

He asked if I was in the office. He said he’s driving by and wants to stop in.

Oh, good! I can congratulate him in person!

Congratulate who, Mrs. Fox?

Joyce and Carol both turned to see Kyle standing at the door wearing a big grin.

Carol moved to get out of her chair, but Kyle saw her wince and hurried over to her. Kyle, you’ve done good! Come on, give us a hug.

Not only was Kyle well known at Sprucedale for being the principal’s son, but he had often helped at the school’s various fundraisers and events, and his charming personality made him well-liked amongst the staff.

Carol patted Kyle’s back and readjusted her position. Kyle came around the desk with an open arm for his mother. Hi, Mom. I take it you’ve heard the news?

Joyce rose, embracing her son and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Amy found out and told us just a few minutes ago. Congratulations! You must be so excited. Here, take a seat. Joyce motioned to another chair in the room.

I got the phone call last night, Kyle said, pulling the chair closer to the desk, and they swore me to secrecy until it went live. I was hoping to be here to give you the news myself, but it seems Amy beat me to it.

Well, Deidre actually beat you to it…

Kyle looked confused. Sorry?

Joyce laughed. Long story, never mind. Sorry to interrupt.

Not at all! I have an even more important reason to be here.

Yes?

Mom. Kyle grinned and pretended to straighten an imaginary tie. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the 52nd Annual PacNor’st Teacher of the Year Gala?

Carol clapped her hands. Oh, what fun!

What, me? Joyce scoffed. I’m touched, but Kyle, chances are you’re going to walk away with the award this time. Please tell your mother there’s some sweet someone you’re dating that you’d like to impress with this instead?

You know as well as I do that I’m currently married to my work and therefore painfully single at the moment.

Ah, I see. No other options, Joyce teased.

If you need an introduction, Carol began, I’m sure—

Joyce cut her off quickly with a look. While she was certain everyone at Sprucedale was aware of the way Kelly, Sprucedale’s young and single kindergarten teacher, perked up whenever Kyle was around, Joyce didn’t want to get involved in matchmaking an employee with her son. Not that she would have minded the match. Not at all, in fact, but it was about doing the right thing. If the two of them made something happen, Joyce would, of course, do whatever she could to help.

Kyle laughed. No, I want to take my mom because she’s been the biggest influence on my career, and I would like the opportunity to not only pay her back for everything she’s done for me by treating her to a fancy night out. I’d also like to show off one of the region’s most dedicated and successful administrators to the who’s who of our education circles.

And that’s why we love Kyle! Carol beamed.

Joyce blushed. I’m flattered. Really, I am. But...

No buts! Kyle slid forward in his seat, elbows on his knees. Come on, Mom. It would mean a lot to me to have you there. Joyce squirmed. What do you say, Principal Stone?

Joyce sighed. I think I have a son too charming to say no to.

Kyle slapped his thigh. Fantastic! He leaned over and placed a kiss on Joyce’s cheek as he stood to return his chair. I wish I could stay, but I’ve got a million things to do.

Life of a rockstar, Carol said.

You know it, Mrs. Fox!

I keep telling you to call me Carol.

But I get a kick out of calling you a fox, Kyle teased.

Carol turned to Joyce. Did you really raise this kid? Beyond your mutual smarts, sometimes it’s hard to see how you’re related.

It’s osmosis, Joyce offered. He gets it from his charming stepfather.

Ooh, speaking of Brian, Kyle said, did you want to tell him the good news, or do you want me to come by tonight and tell him myself?

If you don’t have plans, why don’t you join us for dinner and you can tell him yourself?

I’ll make it work! Six-ish?

Perfect.

I’ll see you guys later, then. Bye, Mrs. Fox! Kyle threw her a wink as he left in a youthful whirlwind.

That kid of yours is something else. I’m guessing it’s that big personality of his that helps him do so well at Silver Heights.

Kyle’s always been the life of the party, Joyce agreed. He’s sincere, though. I’ve always said God knew I was only going to have one child, so he stuffed as much as he could into that one.

Well said.

So. Joyce leaned back in her chair. It looks like I’m going to a party.

Carol’s brow furrowed. You don’t sound enthused.

I’m happy for Kyle. I really am.

I hear a ‘but’ in there somewhere.

Honestly? Joyce wiped a hand across her forehead as if trying to erase what was in her mind. To give voice to the thoughts that had been scratching at her brain for months was frightening, but they needed to be said, and she knew she could trust Carol. Is it wrong to be jealous of your son’s accomplishments?

Only when you’re not acknowledging your own.

Joyce’s hands fell to her lap in exasperation. I’m struggling, Carol. I know I’ve done good things for a lot of schools, and I’ve received appreciation from students and families and staff, but once in a while, I think it would be nice to have a shiny award to put on my mantle, or a big bonus check to put in the bank for all the work I’ve done. She shook her head in disgust at herself. Does that make me shallow?

No, that makes you human.

Joyce got up to pace as the feelings she’d tamped down for so long came rushing to the surface. I wish I didn’t have to scrape and scrounge for every dime. That I wasn’t at the mercy of surplus auctions or hand-me-downs to equip the school. Joyce waved a hand toward her antiquated fan. That I could just go out and buy a proper fan instead of worrying about where I could spend that money in a classroom. Joyce sighed. I just wish things were easy for a change.

You could raise tuition. Everyone knows ours is the lowest in the state.

Someone has to be the lowest. It just happens to be us, Joyce quipped. Come on, you know the demographics of our families. A tuition increase would be a significant burden to them. Joyce shook her head. No, raising tuition would just result in more requests for financial aid, and we’re already at the limit of what we can do right now.

But accreditation might change that—bring in more families.

You’re right, but it would only be enough to give us some breathing room. We still have aging facilities to contend with, salary increases… Joyce dropped back into her chair. I’m just weary of all the struggle.

A light went on in Carol’s eyes. And that’s why you’re filling in retirement papers.

Joyce shrugged. After accreditation’s secured, it’ll be good to go out on a high note.

Carol looked sad. I don’t know what to say to convince you of how much you’re appreciated, but I wish I could.

Joyce smiled at Carol to reassure her. I’m tired of fighting so hard just to keep things afloat. She shrugged. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older, but if that’s the case, then it means it’s the right time to pack it in.

Carol shook her head in defeat. You’re still going to sign those papers, aren’t you?

Joyce nodded. But I should tell Kyle first, and now I don’t want to do that until after the awards ceremony, Joyce said, picking up the retirement papers.

Good. Wait on it, then.

Joyce lifted a stack of papers on her desk and placed the retirement forms at the bottom. Just a little longer.

Chapter Three

Joyce stared out the passenger window of Kyle’s vehicle as they drove to the awards ceremony. The mid-August summer sun kissed the horizon in front of them, giving a warm glow to the valleys they passed on the way from the foothills of the Cascades to the city. Kyle’s new electric car was so much more comfortable and quieter than Joyce’s old four-door sedan. She felt good knowing her son was doing well for himself, but she also knew she could never justify spending this much on a car for herself on her salary. She let her thoughts drift to retirement and what she and Brian might do when they had more time to spend together.

Should be there in a couple of minutes, Kyle told his mother.

Joyce felt like an excited child. She didn’t get to the city very often, and she had never been to an event like this. It made her wonder what her life would have been like if she had chosen a different path. Would evening soirees and social engagements and awards ceremonies fill her nights? Joyce loved her quiet life, but she sometimes