Candy Corn Murder by Leslie Meier Page B

you’d pick him up.”
    â€œIs he sick?” asked Lucy, suddenly anxious for her grandson.
    â€œNo. It’s a behavioral issue.”
    Lucy didn’t understand. “I’m sorry, but isn’t this what you guys do? You’re a day-care center, and you take care of kids while their folks are at work. Isn’t that what I’m paying you to do?”
    â€œLittle Prodigies isn’t simply a babysitting service,” said Heidi, sounding affronted. “We’re a child-care facility, and we take great pride in caring for our little ones and doing what’s best for them, not what’s most convenient.”
    â€œIt isn’t a question of convenience,” said Lucy, picking up on Heidi’s attitude. “I have a job to do, and my employer expects me to do it. I can’t just leave.”
    â€œI’m afraid I must insist,” said Heidi, “or we’ll have to disenroll Patrick.”
    Lucy wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “Disenroll?”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Heidi. “We have a waiting list of families who would be more than happy to take his place.”
    â€œSo it’s either pick him up this afternoon or lose his spot at the center?”
    â€œI’m afraid so,” said Heidi. “It takes a village, you know, and we believe in working together as a team. . . .”
    Lucy had heard enough. “I’ll be right over,” she said, slamming down the phone.
    When she arrived at Little Prodigies, she heard childish shouts and laughter but didn’t see Patrick among the children who were playing outside, among the swings and slides and sandbox, so she approached the teacher who was supervising.
    â€œPatrick needed a time-out,” she explained. “He got in a fight with one of the other children during outdoor play. He’s inside.”
    Lucy stepped inside and found Patrick sitting in the classroom, his dirty face tracked with tears. “What happened?” she asked.
    Heidi, who was sitting beside Patrick at the table, writing, looked up. “Oh, Mrs. Stone, I’m just writing up an incident report. It seems that Patrick attacked another little boy.”
    â€œHe took my truck,” said Patrick with a sniffle.
    â€œAll the toys here belong to everyone,” said Heidi. “We have to share.”
    â€œI had it first,” said Patrick.
    â€œIf that happens, and someone takes a toy you are playing with, you must talk to a teacher. We can’t hit, ever,” insisted Heidi.
    â€œNo, you can’t hit,” agreed Lucy, taking Patrick’s hand. “I presume Patrick will be welcome here tomorrow?” she asked, leading him to the cubby where his jacket and lunch bag were stored.
    â€œAbsolutely, but Patrick will need to apologize to the group at circle time.”
    â€œThis place is beginning to sound like Communist China during the Cultural Revolution,” muttered Lucy.
    â€œI’m sure we seem a little . . . Well, let’s just say that child development is better understood now than it was in your day, Mrs. Stone,” said Heidi with a condescending smile. “And one area where we’ve made great strides is in the area of diet and how foods can affect child behavior. Gluten, for instance, is a real troublemaker, and I’ve noticed that Patrick’s lunch often includes wheat bread and sugary cookies, and a great deal of dairy, which we know many children are sensitive to.”
    That morning, Lucy had packed the same lunch for Patrick as she had made for herself: a ham and cheese sandwich on multigrain bread, a sippy box of low-fat milk, an apple, and a homemade oatmeal-raisin cookie. “What foods would you suggest?” she asked.
    â€œKale is fabulous, and there’s broccoli and quinoa, and almond milk is preferable to cow’s milk. The list goes on and on. I can give you our list of lunch guidelines,” said Heidi,