Free The Lost Bee by L. K. Rigel Page B

season, they called it. Yesterday was the deadline for final layoff letters. Sara poured two cups of coffee and gave one to Marie.
    “I knew you’d escape.” Marie said. “They won’t RIF fourth-years.”
    “Maybe, maybe not,” Sara said. “I forgot to check the mail.”
    With every year of added seniority, she hoped to escape the RIF. But as the lower rungs were chopped off, every year the ax reached higher up the ladder.
    Marie stirred cream into her coffee. “I knew the cuts would be brutal, but I hoped…”
    Charlotte and Frank came in, laughing over some kids’ antics out in the hall. Both went silent when they saw Marie’s face.
    “She got a final notice,” Sara said.
    “It doesn’t mean you’re out.” Frank pulled out a chair. “There’s the August rehire. They always lay off more than they need to, just to cover their butts.”
    Charlotte slammed the freezer door. “I’m quitting.” She popped her Lean Cuisine into the microwave. “It’s not worth it.”
    “You’ve got ten years’ seniority, Charlotte,” Sara said. “You’re safe.”
    “I don’t care. I can’t stand it anymore. They’re not getting rid of any kids, are they? We need more teachers, not fewer. How big do you think our classes will be next year?
    “I’m up past midnight all the time as it is grading papers,” Frank said. “I swear I’m going to make everything multiple choice .”
    “But what will you do, Charlotte?” Sara said. It was amazing to her someone could decide, just like that, to change her life. Even if she desperately wanted to. Even if she’d felt frozen in the wrong life for a long time.
    “I’m going to be a stay-at-home mom,” Charlotte said. “We want another baby, and John just made partner. We can afford for me to quit.”
    Great work if you can get it, Sara thought. The old pain returned. She and Bram had been married four years and hadn’t had their first child yet. That is, if you didn’t count the miscarriage.
    “All the years of college and student teaching,” Marie said. “You finally get a job and…”
    “You think it’s going to be like Little House on the Prairie ,” Frank said.
    The room went silent, and the women stared at Frank. Then they all burst out laughing at the thought of the big, athletic guy loving the Little House books.
    “Frank’s right,” Sara said. “For me, it was Anne of Green Gables . The school at Avonlea.”
    “Children who listen and do the homework and parents who always have your back,” Marie said dreamily.
    They didn’t talk much through the rest of the lunch break. Sara kept thinking about the weird chill she’d felt in class—and Aunt Amelia’s lover. When the warning buzzer blasted, they all winced and Frank said, “There was never a bell like that at Avonlea.”
    Charlotte snorted. “Another beastly thing I won’t miss.”
    “I once rang a fantastic bell,” Sara said. “An old brass thing I found it in my aunt’s barn.” Turtledove Hill was in the air today. She hadn’t thought of that bell in years either.
    She couldn’t actually remember the sound of it, only that it was beautiful—and how ringing it had made Aunt Amelia so angry. Yes, Sara had been snooping where she shouldn’t, but what was the harm? Did it justify banishment from the only place that ever touched her heart—her soul?
    It sounded melodramatic, but Turtledove Hill called to Sara as much as Thornfield Hall ever called to Jane Eyre. She’d tried to reconnect with her aunt during college, even invited herself for a visit, but the old lady wasn’t having it. Don’t come here. Sara could still hear the voice on the telephone. Don’t ever come here.
    The door swung open and the next group of teachers came in for lunch. Sara cleared off her place and headed back to her classroom. She couldn’t shake off the anxious feeling, the sense of impending doom. It was crazy, but she knew something was wrong at Turtledove Hill. Something had happened to Aunt