disappointment and failure. She knew, because his meticulously shaved cheeks flushed a dull red. He picked up a pen and circled something she’d written.
“I like this idea of wilderness fire outreach at the elementary school level. What did you have in mind?”
She sat forward, grateful to move away from the awkward, personal stuff. “At my son’s last school they set up something called ‘Adopt A Forest.’ Each class researched different forest fires then voted which forest to adopt.”
“Interesting. Which one did they pick?”
“I can’t remember the name of the fire, but it was somewhere in Colorado.”
He nodded. “I worked the Black Forest fire. It was a tough one.”
She reached out and flipped over the page where she’d outlined her ideas. “Here’s a list of some of the fundraisers Brady’s school did. You can check out the posters each of the classes made. They were online. I’ll send you the link.”
“Thanks. I’d like that.”
“I brought up the idea with Brady’s teacher, but she didn’t see a way to make something like this fit with their current curriculum.” She shrugged. “In all fairness, an idea isn’t the same as a plan. You know how that goes.”
“I do. Definitely. In Tennessee, it took me two years to get an after school program in place that focused on emergency preparedness and survival skills. A few parents accused me of trying to recruit firefighters, but most of them appreciated what I was trying to do…keep their kids too busy to get in trouble.”
Kat sat on her hands to keep from looking overly eager to find a receptive audience for her pet project. “Getting kids connected to the planet should be one of our top priorities, in my opinion. Brady’s preschool had a huge learning garden. You should have seen the pride on the faces of these little kids when they served cut up carrots they helped grow.”
“I like that idea, too.”
His approval shouldn’t have pleased her as much as it did. “I suggested the idea of building a greenhouse at a school board meeting and my idea was summarily shot down.”
She’d been embarrassed by the outcome, but two good things had come from that fiasco—she’d met Bailey Jenkins-Zabrinski and Brady’s teacher realized Kat couldn’t be dissuaded by anyone’s lack of enthusiasm.
Flynn held up one hand and rubbed his fingers and thumb together. “It all comes down to money. I’m used to doing things on a shoestring. Plus, I found it helps to involve the community. Have you approached any local stores? I know the owner of Big Z’s Hardware. My brother’s engaged to Paul Zabrinski’s sister, Mia.”
The name never failed to send a little zing through Kat. “His daughter is in Brady’s class. I met his wife at the fair last summer and we’ve talked a couple of times, but you know how it is…there’s only so much time.” Or not enough time.
“Oh, believe me, I understand. And I don’t expect anyone to do these sorts of things on their own time. If you want to apply for grants or put together something for the Sheriff to take to the Board of Supervisors, I want you to do it on the county’s dime.”
She blinked. “Wow. That’s a complete reversal from the previous administration’s take on the subject. Ken always met me at the door with a stack of paperwork to do ‘before tomorrow’.” She made air quotes.
Flynn’s expression told her his opinion of his predecessor slipped another notch lower.
“For the record,” Kat said, “you’re not planning to go into a life of crime on the side, are you?”
His grin would have made the girl she used to be swoon. “I’ll try my best not to get arrested any time soon.”
He opened the middle drawer and withdrew a business card, which he leaned across the desk to pass to her. “As I mentioned earlier, Tucker Montgomery is building a zip line and endurance course. If I can come up with enough grant money, I want to offer an internship for two or three