“Emily, I’m not sure that’s the best . . .”

Emily didn’t let the older woman finish her sentence. “I’m sorry? Did I ask you for an opinion? Much less the wrong one?!”

“Well, I just thought that . . .”

“That I was incorrect in my thinking? Is that what you thought? You think a younger woman like me can’t handle the pressure and responsibility?”

“No. I am not saying that at all.”

“Then what are you saying, Marjorie?”

“Perhaps you should let some of the other moms participate in the fundraiser?”

“What? So they can completely screw it up and lose an opportunity to have a cushion to work from instead of from a budget deficit?”

Marjorie was glad they were meeting outside the PTA meeting and outside the school. She felt Emily wouldn’t agree or understand the position she was putting the school in. Marjorie was a former teacher herself, teaching every grade, from kindergarten to high school seniors. And now, as the senior principal of Danville’s junior high school, it was her responsibility to make sure that the PTA understood their responsibilities and how their fundraising potentially helped the school. Not every school activity came from Marjorie’s state-allocated budget. The difficulty was the parents. In these neighborhoods, they wanted more for their children. Rightly so, considering that many of these parents earned six-figure incomes. And the last thing Marjorie needed was upset upper-middle-class parents screaming about an overbearing, power-hungry soccer mom. “Emily, I’m simply saying you need to let the other parents engage as much as they want to. If you can convince them to keep their noses out of it, so much the better. But the last thing the school needs – the last thing I need – is another mom running to me telling on you because you hurt her feelings. That’s all.”

Emily folded her arms across her chest, crossing her left leg over her right. Her left leg was swinging impatiently, listening to Marjorie voice her concerns. “Are you done?”

Marjorie watched Emily’s body language. From years of dealing with influential community leaders and sitting through multiple school board meetings, she recognized Emily’s closed-off stance. Emily stared out the window for a few seconds, and then her swinging leg slowed down, arms uncrossed from her chest, and a smile crossed her lips. Marjorie thought Emily would lunge across the desk, ready to beat her to a pulp. Instead, Emily chuckled to herself.

“So let me get this straight in my head.” Emily looked up at the ceiling. “If I can convince these soccer moms that me being in charge is best for their children and our fundraising campaigns, then I can do what I want?”

“Yes. Within reason, Emily.”

“Within reason. Of course,” Emily’s smile widened. “Then I will have to make that happen.” Emily stood up, ready to walk out. Before she did, she approached Marjorie, saying, “Oh, and I am sorry I raised my voice. It’s not like me to be this,” she acted like she was searching for the words to say, pausing long enough to make her point, “emotional. Please forgive me,” Emily asked sincerely.

Marjorie extended her hand, and Emily shook it. It was a warm, friendly handshake that quickly turned into a hug. “You know I love you, dear,” Marjorie said. “You were always my favorite student, even when your opinions overtook class discussions.”

Emily smiled, turned, and walked out of the coffee shop.