Being Replaced
There was no hurry. Rachel would not be rushed, not today. She would savour each second until she had none left.
Papers upon papers, still presentable after all this time. Boxes, neatly packed with all of her possessions, piled high in her office.
No, not her office anymore. Someone else's.
She almost wished she could be upset, but this was not the time for sorrow. Nor for regrets. A ring on her finger, a promise of something greater on the horizon. Rachel wouldn't let such an opportunity slip through her fingers, not this time.
How funny, she thought. To have been so determined the first time she had stepped into her office, to do everything she had planned to.
It hadn't mattered in the end. She had done the best she could and nobody could take that from her. Having made new enemies and friends along the way, reconciled with her estranged nephew (she was yet to decide on her sister), experienced a relationship she would forever treasure, and allowed her past to guide her future. For the better.
Who would have thought? Not her, she realised with a laugh.
There was no place for regret in this office. Slightly cracked on one wall where the explosion had unsettled the structure, her favourite lilac coating the wall where a particular deputy had determinedly painted it himself. Notes, in her writing, some left from Eddie, some from other staff members. All now tucked in her satchel.
Boxes being carried out of her office with the help of her new husband and her faithful deputy. Both huffing about the weight. How unnecessary it was. She paid them no mind. Rachel would do what she wanted.
With the last box, she stopped Adam, taking the only item left from the desk. Her nameplate that had been unscrewed from the door.
Rachel Mason- headmistress.
Yes, she was. And she always would be.
Slipping it on top of the box, she let him take it. She surveyed the empty office with mixed feelings, only the desk, the sofa, and the circular table to its name. And that lovely colour on the wall. A mixture of feelings she could never pinpoint rising in her chest, causing her lips to twitch upward in a smile. Contemplative, grateful. Content.
A note left on the desk for whoever occupied it next; certain rumours said it was Karen Fisher. Leaving her own words of encouragement in the hope their time here would be as life-changing.
Good luck!
P.S. If you need me, I will be somewhere across the world drinking Shiraz.