No more chats with Berta. But no more dodging Mr. Woods’s advances. And no more steady client.
I sighed and strode back to my car. The mother who’d called to hire me last week would help fill the pay gap. Still, I hated to lose the account.
All businesses had setbacks, and if I was going to lose someone, the Woods were a good choice. They had found me through word of mouth from another client, so as long as I hadn’t done anything to get blacklisted, I was good.
The drive home was filled with more pondering. It was harder not knowing why I’d been fired.
I arrived home and parked. Worrying my lower lip, I glowered out of the window. How rude and unprofessional of Mr. Woods to treat me like that! No explanation. No notice. This was my livelihood. I wasn’t stupid rich like the Woods.
What an ass.
Before I got out, I dug through my tote for my phone. What was Flynn doing tonight? Would he care to hear about my woes?
Missed calls popped up on the screen. Dammit. I shut my ringer off when I was working.
I recognized two of the numbers as current clients. One had left a message.
“Hi, Tilly. I’m sorry. Um…we’re going to have to cancel all of our sessions. Your services are no longer required.”
Services no longer required? What was going on?
A text popped up from one of the missed calls. Please don’t come tomorrow. Or any other day. We’re done with tutoring.
Another one?
Tears sprang up. I sniffled. The tiny empire I’d busted my ass to build was crumbling and I had zero idea why.
Pulling up the first missed number, I called. Fire me over voicemail? Where was the respect?
“Miss Johnson.” The grim tone of one of my favorite clients didn’t bolster my confidence.
“Mr. Graham, hi. Can you let me know why you’ve decided to part ways?” I fiddled with my hair and racked my brain for ways to sound professional and not desperate. “I strive to keep improving my business and your feedback is valuable.” Because I’d lost three accounts in an hour.
Mr. Graham huffed. “I can’t imagine why I have to explain. The safety of our daughter is our utmost concern.”
“Why would you—”
“Look, Miss Johnson, I’m not going to sit and debate this. I can’t have a woman suspected of beating a kid allowed to be alone with mine.”
The air whooshed out of my lungs. “What?”
But Mr. Graham had hung up.
I sucked in a sharp breath. And another. If I kept doing it, I’d hyperventilate.
Hyperventilating sounded good right now.
Beating a kid?
Who? When?
I dialed the client who’d left the text. They didn’t answer.
Dare I call Mr. Woods and ask for his specific reasoning? You of all people should know the answer. And he’d slammed a door in my face. A guy like him didn’t think he needed to answer to anyone.
Beat a kid?
I grabbed my tote and stomped into the house. My phone buzzed. I fumbled to answer it.
“This is Tilly.”
“Oh…Uh, Miss Johnson. This is Samantha Kringle, we talked last week.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose before I let out a giant sob. “Yes, Ms. Kringle. How are you?”
“Good. Well, I called to say we’ve reconsidered our need for tutoring. I’m afraid we’re not interested after all.”
I struggled to dam my tears. I shook from the effort. Squeezing my eyes shut, I asked, “Please be honest about why you’re not interested. There seems to be something circulating about me and no one will clue me in.”
There was a beat of silence. “Well, the friends who recommended you said another family they know became suspicious when their son developed sores and bruises after your sessions.”
Charlie? “And they thought I was hitting him? That’s a lie.” He had been injured before my time with him.
“I—I don’t know what to believe. But I’m sure you can understand the position it puts parents in. We’ll have to find a new tutor. Goodbye, Miss Johnson.”
I tossed her phone on the couch and shrieked, releasing a well of fury and frustration. Instead of questioning me, Mr. Woods had fired me and then spread the word to other clients, who’d told other friends they’d recommended me to.
I now had no summer income. The three other families I worked for would can me as soon as I explained what was happening. And Ms. Kringle was correct. If I was a parent, I’d be overly cautious about protecting my kids from the ugliness I’d endured.
There was no way Mr. Woods would find enough proof to press charges. I’d done nothing but teach and nurture Charlie.
But so much damage had been done. I’d have to be honest with my full-time job, too, and let the principal know what was going on. Then I’d probably lose my position at the school.
I sank into the sofa and sobbed.
Chapter 13
Flynn
The restaurant bustled with activity. Fluorescent lights lit the mirrored columns and reflected off counters in contrast with the exposed brick walls, giving the bar an ultra-hip vibe. It wasn’t one of my favorite places. Young entrepreneurs like me swaggered from the entrance, to table, to barstool. They talked loudly, guffawed unnecessarily, and preened at their reflections.
I was one of them, but lately, I’d felt disconnected from locales like this. John Woods probably thrived in an environment like this, where boasting and pontificating was a pastime meant to drive the career train further and harder.
I glanced at Tilly. She poked at her food with a fork. All the fire had been drained out of her and I’d hated bringing her here, but I’d been swamped in work when she’d called last night. I’d rushed over in time to hold her as she cried herself to sleep.
Some asshole had accused her of abusing a child.
The rage set my teeth on edge.
