Tinker’s Cove Middle School was ready for the school year to begin. The empty halls had been painted and the floors polished, the one-armed desks in the classrooms were arranged in orderly rows and a bright “WELCOME” banner hung over the front door. Even the air smelled of floor polish; there was none of the adolescent stink she always associated with the school—a mix of sweat, cheap cologne, and old sneakers.
The staff in the main office were all present and accounted for, however. Unlike the teachers, administrators worked through the summer, preparing for the new school year. Angela Dobbins, the school secretary, was busy enrolling a new student when Lucy arrived but waved her down the hall. “Mr. Burkhart’s in his office,” she said. “Three doors down.”
The door was ajar but Lucy gave a little knock before sticking her head in. Buck Burkhart was sitting at his desk, leafing through a file. Until now, Lucy had only seen him from a distance as he came and went from his house on Prudence Path. Up close, she realized he was older than she expected, considering the ages of his wife and children. Bonnie seemed to be in her early thirties and the twins were six, but Buck was at least fifty, judging from his gray hair and the deep lines that ran from his nose to his mouth. He was quite fit, however, and jumped to his feet to greet Lucy.
“It’s great to meet you,” he said. “I’ve heard such nice things about you from Bonnie. And, of course, we love Sara. She’s great with the twins.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” said Lucy. “Sara really enjoys babysitting for the girls. She says they’re adorable and polite, too.”
“I can’t take much credit for that, I’m afraid,” he said, grinning. “Bonnie’s in charge of the kids.”
“Oh, you can never underestimate the importance of a strong father,” said Lucy, wondering how she’d become part of a mutual admiration society. She sat down and opened her notebook, determined to cut to the chase. “So tell me, what brought you to Tinker’s Cove?”
Buck leaned back in his chair and propped his elbows on the desk, tenting his hands. “I saw the ad in a professional magazine and, well, it caught my interest. We’d been living in Lawrence, Massachusetts and we were beginning to think it wasn’t the best place to raise the girls. There’s a lot of drugs, a lot of crime. I found the work there very challenging, very interesting, don’t get me wrong, I felt I was doing a lot of good. But it was time to think of the family, of the girls, and what would be best for them.” He paused. “And when I came for the interview, well, I just fell in love with this town. It’s real small-town America, the kind of place where there’s a real community. You know what they say, ‘It takes a village to raise a child,’ and I felt that was what we’d find here in Tinker’s Cove.”
Lucy didn’t want to burst his bubble; she figured he’d learn the truth soon enough. Tinker’s Cove was picture-perfect on the outside, but life was hardly idyllic. There was domestic violence and drug abuse and poverty and all the other problems that were part of modern life.