only thing that does make her happy," he said bluntly, and therein lay the crux of his concern. "She's very attached to the program." And to the teacher—an admission he wouldn't make aloud. Confessions of a personal nature revealed weaknesses that could be used against him, he'd learned long ago. "The location is convenient, and it's a relief knowing she's in capable hands while I'm at work. I don't wish to see that arrangement disturbed, but the mayor is pressuring the department of transportation for a road through there. The state can condemn the property if a road is approved."
A frown wrinkled the bridge of her nose, then disappeared as she took another sip of tea. "Well, just tell the mayor that would be a misplacement of the public trust and a personal use of the taxpayers' money. I have plans to expand to a full-time pre-school facility at the beginning of the next school year. As you said, it's an ideal location. The children love the yard, too. We won't be moved."
"You don't understand... Maya." Axell hesitated over the preposterous name, wondered briefly what planet she hailed from, then ruthlessly dismissed all his nagging questions in favor of his goal. "A school of your size requires a license. Should the state decide to side with the mayor, you won't receive that license. Unless you're independently wealthy, you won't be able to sustain your lease for long without income. For the sake of Constance and the other children..."
She rose and drifted toward the counter where the phone was ringing again. He'd never seen a pregnant woman move with such grace. When Angela was...
He shut down that path of thought. "We really must consider some alternatives."
She poured more hot water over the leaves in the pot. A cat he hadn't noticed earlier leapt from a high shelf to the counter, stretched luxuriously, sniffed the tea, then settled for a cream-filled saucer beside the hot plate.
His gaze fastened on the gauzy red-brown pleats of her jumper as Maya turned. He glanced away as the baby moved. She was definitely making him uncomfortable.
She patted his shoulder as she passed by. "Don't fret, Axell. I know you like all your little soldiers in a row, but life isn't like that. I appreciate your concern, but fate will decide whether the school survives or not. You may try to steer the hands of fate, if you like, but I'm afraid I rather have my hands full dealing with more earthly concerns. Fate is out of my realm."
She said this last so dryly, he almost winced. "You're new to the area, I believe?" he asked, determined to get a handle on the situation despite her evasiveness.
"No place like home," she murmured.
"Perhaps you don't understand the local politics," he suggested diplomatically.
"Authority rules for the good of all and the benefit of none," she quoted, setting her cup down. "I appreciate your concern, Axell, but I'm certain you have better things to do. Constance will always have a place in my program after school, and she's welcome to join our full-time summer classes. I think she might be happier with a little more individual attention, don't you?"
Setting the cup precisely so the handle aligned with the table's edge, Axell rose. "I don't think impossible dreams make a good basis for an education, Miss Alyssum. If Constance needs individual attention, I'll place her in a more traditional private school. Thank you for the tea. It was nice meeting you. Good day."
He strode out, not a wisp of that sunny hair misplaced by the spring breeze, not a speck of dandelion fluff daring to cling to the knife-sharp crease of his gabardine trousers or the broad expanse of his suit-coated shoulders as he passed by the shop window. Tall and sturdy rather than elegantly lean, Axell Holm strode down the street with the arrogant certainty of his place in the world.
Maya admired the surety of his stride as he passed, then smiled as he stopped on the corner to examine a foil kite displayed outside the corner drugstore. That Aquarian curiosity would be his downfall, she predicted.
Patting the restless stirring inside her abdomen, she relaxed against the chair back, reprogrammed the sound system, and let the aria from Man of La Mancha carry her away from this time and place. Music was supposed to inspire the unborn child, increase their intelligence and awareness, and she wanted her child to have all the right advantages. She breathed in the crescendo of