Love and Ruination: An Engaging Tale of Two Clashical Christian Schools
Chapter Two
Suzanne had been picked up at the airport by her cousin, Christie—and despite the fact that she was moving, she had brought just two suitcases with her. Christie was the one who had let her know about the job in the first place. The movers were due to arrive at her apartment the following Tuesday with all of her California stuff, and Christie and Tom had promised to feed her until then. No need for kitchen gear, or any of that, which meant they did not need to stop at Walmart.
“I think I am going to love this,” Suzanne said, settling into her seat. “That is, if I can stop being scared out of my wits.”
“Oh, you’re going to do great,” Christie answered. “And everybody knows it. The school runs pretty smoothly, and so you will be able to learn a lot by just watching. I don’t think there should be too many fires to put out. If any.”
Suzanne bit at a fingernail nervously, realized what she was doing, and put her hand under her thigh. “What do you think will be my biggest challenge then? Don’t hold back. Just tell me.”
Christie glared at her, all friendly like. Suzanne was quite striking in her appearance—put together, feminine, a natural blonde, pretty, and businesslike, and Christie proceeded to lecture her about that for a minute. “If you could just manage to not tell everybody how nervous you are, nobody will know. You know, like you did at your interview. Something about your appearance exudes confidence.”
“Yes, but I exude so much of it that nothing is left inside. I need to learn how not to exude so much. I need to reserve some of that confidence for me. So what about my question? What will be the biggest challenge, do you think?”
Christie pursed her lips and thought for a minute. “Did anybody say anything about Riverfront Classical when you were here for your interview?”
“No, they didn’t.” Suzanne turned in her seat to look at Christie. “No, they didn’t. Should they have?”
“Not really. It is kind of a standing problem, and some little thing flares up a couple times a year. Their AD collides with our AD about schedules about a regional spelling bee or something, or one of their teachers writes something for Classis that takes a jab at a pedagogical approach suggested by one of our teachers. Feathers need to be unruffled, but they never get unruffled completely, if you know what I mean. Bad blood, or something. I don’t know what happened back in the day, but it must have been a doozy.”
“Back in the day?”
“Used to be one big school, and now there are two schools. Twenty years ago or so. I would have been around twelve-years-old at the time. You are going to need to get that history from somebody . . . just so that you don’t step in it. But I don’t think anybody expects you to fix anything. Nothing like that. You just don’t want to set something off accidentally.”
* * *
Avery had been picked up at the airport by Roger W. Broderick III. That man was a force of nature, and even though he was now in his eighties, he was still a Category 3. He had been one of the central players in the Riverfront/Cornerstone fracas, and for reasons not unrelated to that, he had made a point of insisting on picking Avery up. He thought it would be necessary to get everything off on the right foot with this new man by bring Avery abreast of the situation with Cornerstone, and of his responsibility, that is, Avery’s, for ensuring that no form of detente ever broke out between Riverfront and Cornerstone. Some things were simply not to be borne.
Broderick had a very slim grasp on the necessary distinctions between something that had been decided upon by the full board, carried by the appropriate number of votes, and entered into the minutes, on the one hand, and what he, Broderick, held to firmly as a conviction necessary to the health of the school. This had been a source of consternation for numerous others over the years, but nobody quite knew what to do about it, or how to handle it.
Broderick had made quite a pile of money in the manufacture of something or other, and he was the sole proprietor of that business. If there was anything to be known about that something or other that he was manufacturing, he most certainly knew it. When it came to work spaces where he was the unquestioned owner and chief, he was used to speaking and having it done. The only thing to be regretted perhaps was that he had taken this same “do what I say” mentality over into his concept of how Christian school boards should work, and had consequently been something of a pest in the front office for many years. When it is said that this aspect of affairs was “regretted,” it should be said that it was regretted by some. It was not regretted by Broderick. He didn’t know anything about it.
But I believe that it was mentioned a moment ago that he was sitting on a pile of money, and donations from this quarter made up about 20% of Riverfront’s annual budget. This had made the question of addressing his brusque and imperious methods a matter of some delicacy. He would have been a handful without those donations, and with them . . . well, nobody knew what to do.
Now if the court appointed someone to say something on behalf this rather brusque gentleman, it would have to be acknowledged that his wife, children, and grandchildren adored him. He was very pleasant at church, as long as it wasn’t a business meeting, and for most of the people there, their interactions were never at a business meeting. Consequently, in a general way, he had the reputation of being an affable, grandfatherly type. A handful of people could tell you stories though. And sometimes they did.
Avery, like Suzanne, had the bulk of this possessions shipped by professional movers, and so arrived at the airport with two pieces of luggage, and his guitar in its travel case.
Broderick had had him text as soon as he landed, and so was able to pull up just as Avery was coming out of baggage claim, pulling both bags behind him side by side, and the guitar balanced perilously across the top of both of them. Broderick was out of the car in an instant, not acting at all like he was in his eighties. The trunk was open, and he lifted the first bag in easily before Avery had a chance to protest.
“Oh, I can do it,” he said. “Thanks though.”
They made small talk while Broderick navigated his way out of the airport complex. Weather, what kind of apartment he had secured, more about the weather, and then they hit the Interstate.
“So, did anybody talk to you about that Cornerstone mess when you were out here for your interview?”
“I heard it mentioned once or twice in passing, but I don’t think anybody said anything specific. Nothing that I remember anyway.”
Broderick nodded. “All to the good. I wanted to be the one to pick you up to fill you in on the goods. Forewarned is forearmed, and all that stuff.”
“Okay, shoot,” Avery said, settling back in his seat. He was preparing himself for an earful, and that is precisely what he got. He had trouble tracking with everything because he didn’t know any of the names yet, and the politics of the thing seemed to come straight out of Byzantium, but by the end of the ride from the airport, he gathered that the former headmaster had tried to foist a line of mathematics textbooks on the school that would have been entirely inadequate, and which were developed and edited by a team of avowed atheists. Not liberals, atheists.