Look Again - Lisa Scottoline [68]
“Of course. Did you have an appointment?”
“No, I’m sorry.” Ellen was wondering if Carol was in one of the classrooms. “My husband and I haven’t moved down yet, and I wanted to see the preschools in the area.”
“I see.” Janice checked her watch, a slim gold one. “I don’t have time now for the meeting we like to give with the tour. Let’s make an appointment and you can return.”
“I’m not sure when I can get back. Can you give me the quick version of the tour? We can chat as we walk.”
“Sure, okay.” Janice smiled. “You must be from New York.”
Works for me. “How did you know?”
“Everything’s quicker. You’ll live here a week and your pace will slow down.” The softness of her tone took the sting from her words, as did a hostess wave toward the hallway. “I’ll show you our classrooms and our media center.”
“You have your own library, in a preschool?”
“We all know how important reading and libraries are, and modesty aside, Bridges is the best preschool in south Florida, if not the entire state. We draw from three different counties.” Janice went into lecture mode. “Now, when are you moving down?”
“We’re not sure.” Ellen scanned the hallway ahead, which was empty, with classrooms off to the side, five in all, their doors closed. She wondered which one contained Carol. “My son is three, and we like to be prepared, to do things in advance.”
“You’d need to, for us.” Janice stopped at the first door. “This is our classroom for two-year-olds, the ones who stay later, that is. We like to mix them with the older children, too, so they get the socialization that’s so vital, especially for our onlies.”
“Onlies?”
“Only children.”
“Of course.” Ellen looked through the window in the door, and inside was a sunny classroom with two teachers, finger-painting with toddlers in coral smocks. Carol wasn’t inside.
“Admissions are very restrictive.”
“My son is very bright.” He can trace all by himself.
Janice led her to the next door. “The three-year-olds,” she said, and inside sat a circle of children shaking tambourines, with two teachers standing in front of the room. Still no Carol. Janice showed her to the next door, where they paused. “And this is our classroom of four-year-olds. They’re learning French right now.”
“Really.” Ellen peered through the window, where the kids and their teachers looked très contents. But there was no Carol.
“We believe that language skills should be taught early, and they take to it like ducks to water. I’ll give you our literature on our postgraduate placement rates. We’re a feeder for all the best private schools.”
“Let’s see the five-year-olds.”
“What is it you do, did you say?” Janice asked, but Ellen walked ahead and peeked into the classroom full of five-year-olds in little chairs, books open in their laps. No Carol.
“Which language are they learning?” she asked, to avoid the question.
“Reading skills. We drill and drill.”
Sir, yes, sir. “Good for you.” Ellen straightened up. “And the media center?”
“This way.” Janice led her down the hall to a double door. “This is one of the special enrichment events we have each day, for after-care. Monday is story time and on Tuesday we do science . . .”
Ellen tuned her out when she saw what was going on inside. A group of children sat in a semicircle, laughing and pointing while a teacher in a Mother Goose costume read to them. But a telltale pink pom-pom stuck from beneath the hem of her hoop skirt. It wasn’t a teacher in the Mother Goose getup. It was Carol Braverman.
Janice said, “Here, you see story time, where we perform stories for the children.”
“And the teachers do this?”
“No, she’s not a teacher. She’s one of our moms, who used to be an actress.”
“An actress?”
“Yes. Her name is Carol Braverman, and she worked at Disney World. She was Snow White.”
Of course she was. “Is her child in the class?”
“No, Carol just comes to read to the children.” Janice paused. “She doesn’t have a child in the class.”
Ellen couldn’t ask a follow-up without blowing her cover. “That’s very nice of her, to