Had Mr. Daire called him about me and the singing? I’d thought my note would have cleared that up, I mean, I did promise not to sing again. Surely if Mr. Daire had an issue with me, he could have sent me another note. He seemed to really enjoy those, after all.

With less enthusiasm than I’d started, I headed to Miguel’s office. I passed Soph’s space on the way. The door was open but the lights were off. She was clearly not at work yet. Hmm.

I knocked on the door frame, and Miguel glanced up from where he was standing behind his desk and gave me a curt nod.

“Close the door, please,” he said.

This did not make me feel any better. It had been a long time since I’d been called to the principal’s office, but I remembered the clenched feeling in my belly followed swiftly by an inappropriate urge to laugh.

I turned and shut the door. I’d worn a simple navy dress with a scooped neckline, fitted waist, flared skirt, and three-quarter-length tulip sleeves. I’d accessorized with a statement necklace of interlocking silver hoops and a hammered silver cuff bracelet. My shoes were navy loafers with silver buckles. It was a simple but professional outfit, and at the moment I was grateful because it was giving me the ability to cross the room with a confidence I didn’t actually possess.

“Have a seat,” he said. He gestured to the chair across from his desk, and I slid onto the cushy leather, perching on the edge of the seat like a bird ready to take flight.

“What can I do for you?” I asked. It seemed like an appropriate question, given that I had no idea what was going on.

“Annabelle, I’m going to be straight with you. I received a very disturbing phone call about you,” he said. He took his seat and rested his forearms on the desk in front of him.

“Disturbing?” I asked. I kept my face blank, but I could feel my heart rate increase triple time. It must have been Mr. Daire. Damn it! I really didn’t want Miguel and Soph to be mad at me, and yet I had apologized for my singing so couldn’t the old coot lighten up already? Sheesh.

“Annabelle, I know you haven’t worked in an office setting in a long time,” Miguel said. He picked up a pen and twirled it between his fingers. I realized he was uncomfortable, which actually made me feel better.

“Yeah, it’s been a minute,” I agreed. I wasn’t sure how this related to the “Danny Boy” debacle. Maybe he thought I was out of practice fraternizing after work and that’s why I’d been singing at top volume when I got home. He wasn’t wrong.