See Me: A Contemporary Christian Romantic Comedy (Mount Laurel Series Book 1), page 1
LM Karen
See Me
First published by Oak Street Publishing House 2023
Copyright © 2023 by LM Karen
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
LM Karen asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
First edition
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To Gina, the best of us.
Thank you for being the first to see me.
Contents
Acknowledgement
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgement
Thank you to Gina, for being who you are just how you are and for bringing so much to my life. Thank you for being the first to read my books and tell me they aren’t as bad as I think. Thank you for sticking with me for over ten years, inspiring me to be a better person. Thank you for inspiring one of my favorite characters I’ve ever written.
Thank you to my publisher, who always gives me so much more than I deserve. Working with you is my favorite thing.
Thank you to my publicist, for being the team MVP and contributing something to every single area of my work. I don’t know what I’d do without you.
Thank you to Georgette, who not only makes my work readable, but who also helps me be a better writer. I’m so grateful for your time and talent.
Thank you to Stephanie from Alt19 Creative who created a beautiful cover worthy of Elle.
Prologue
Do you have people? Pray for you, lift you up, intercede to the Lord on your behalf, keep you from sinning, help you hide the body when you inevitably end up sinning, show up with cookie dough and ice cream, love you despite yourself, kind of people? If not, I’ll pray for you; and seriously, you should pray for yourself.
I have people. I have two best friends who do all this and more for me regularly. I still don’t understand why. I feel unworthy on a daily basis of their unwavering love and loyalty.
I’m Isabelle Berkley. Elle for short. I moved to Mount Laurel, North Carolina, in search of cooler temperatures and a scenic drive to work. Mount Laurel is the most perfect little mountain town you’ve ever seen. Touristy enough to bring in big money, but small enough to retain its hallmark-esque charm.
I’m a high school math teacher. *Sigh* I can feel you cringing. I get it often enough. Everybody hates math. You know what? It’s not even math’s fault. There math is, creating the very systems that allow society to function, but does anyone appreciate it? No. They roll their eyes and tell me how hopeless they are with numbers and thank goodness their cell phone has a calculator on it. Like dentists, math is unappreciated for the truly magnificent service it provides society.
Ari (pronounced R-E; only pronounce it air-e at your own risk—and trust me, she can take you), my best friend, owns the most successful café and bakery in town. She makes gourmet coffee, lattes, and cappuccinos to go along with the most delectable baked goods you’ve ever sampled. She is the talented artist of our threesome, never short of creativity or exuberant enthusiasm. There is a tiny part of me that is jealous of her ability to make the world more beautiful, more fun, and, Lord knows, better tasting.
Rory, my other best friend, owns the local bookstore that offers the latest bestsellers, magazines, and puzzle books to tourists. She also sells rare finds and first editions on the side and can almost always be found with a book attached to her right hand—most likely a mystery. She loves mysteries. She enjoys a conspiracy theory more than most, often getting herself into trouble with her “investigations” into what she says is “suspicious behavior.” Rory is the dreamer of our group. The one whose feet can’t quite stay on the ground. To tell you the truth, I’ve longed for her optimistic ability to dream of what she wants and go after it, successful more often than not.
Me, I’m the analytical thinker. I will logistically tell you what is and isn’t possible, often corralling the other two into realistic expectations and a carefully considered set of easily attainable parameters. In other words, boring. I’m the boring one.
The three of us met at church in the worst singles small group class you could ever imagine. Catty women and leering men combined in forcing us to take shelter with each other while volunteering for nursery duty. Right there in the Church of Mount Laurel, a friendship was born. Family, really. I don’t deserve them. Lord knows what I did right to possess them to keep me around, but I’ll do my utmost to keep it up. Ari and Rory don’t only make my life better, they make me better. If you don’t have people, put this book down right now and pray to God that He bless you with people like them in your life.
These are my people, and this is our story.
Chapter 1
Elle
Sometimes, when I walk down a hallway, I imagine techno music in my head and pretend I’m a secret agent on a mission to save the world. Sometimes, I forget that I’m a high school math teacher. Sometimes, I forget that I’m invisible. That’s not me being down on myself, it’s a simple fact I came to terms with long ago. Some people stand out, others blend in, and some are invisible.
I first realized I was invisible in the third grade. During a class activity, only my two closest friends and the kid who sat next to me and cheated off my paper knew my name, even though I had been in class with most of the same twenty kids since kindergarten. It was a surprising reality that is a curse as much as it is a blessing.
Being invisible is sometimes hard on my ego, but the advantages are undeniable. I fly under the radar. Information is easy to come by when you enter a room unseen. It’s not hard to gain the upper hand when you’ve been observing the competition unnoticed. Ari and Rory often call me their secret weapon. It’s a title I used to detest but eventually learned to first appreciate, then embrace. Now I exult in my title and have come to consider it my superpower. I have the real-life superpower of invisibility. With great power comes great responsibility, and I am burdened to use this power for good, not evil.
Of course, good and evil are fundamentally relative, so there’s that.
I am currently in the math department workroom getting a cup of coffee, slowly. None of the other four math teachers in the room have noticed me yet, and they are deep into gossip about the new English lit teacher. We are three weeks into a new school year, and apparently this is the most exciting thing to happen since the Walmart was built one county over.
“He’s so handsome,” Patty titters.
“And so polite,” Trish agrees.
“I think Sophie in the science department would be a good match for him. They’re both young and so attractive,” Lucinda says dreamily.
I’m not sure if this is a requirement of all small towns, but Mount Laurel’s matchmaking game is strong. At the first sign of a single adult of marrying age, women, and sometimes even men, from all over town crawl out from the woodwork to set them up with friends/colleagues/relatives. It’s almost as if it’s the shared local pastime, the only thing everyone can agree to debate with great interest.
The teachers talking now are some of the oldest and most seasoned matchmakers, though I’m not sure they’ve actually had a successful match between them.
Trish snorts. “Sophie’s a sweet girl, but her elevator doesn’t go all the way to the top. No, he needs someone like Sherry in physical education.”
Patty laughs. “I’m afraid Sherry is a permanent cat lady.”
Trish frowns, apparently put out by having not received that particular memo. “Oh, my.”
“No, he would be much better paired with someone like Georgi
“Oh yes, that would be a good match. She’s perfect for him,” Trish agrees.
I hold back a snort and quietly head back to my classroom, knowing this conversation will go in circles for quite some time, and I am already bored with the topic. Sophie, a senior-level biology teacher, is great, but a little odd. She’s a little older than me and single, and she has what I consider an unhealthy fascination with preserving biological samples. You can always tell she’s coming because she brings the distinctive smell of formaldehyde with her wherever she goes. Sherry in phys ed is, in fact, interested in dating but has a peculiar fear of dog lovers that keeps her from accepting most invitations. Georgianna in the front office is sweet but very friendly, if you know what I mean.
I chuckle as I imagine the setup attempts the new English teacher…Adam Warton, I think… will have to endure. As I prepare for my first class, I search my mind to remember if I’ve met him. He was probably introduced at the first faculty meeting of the year, but to be honest, I probably wasn’t paying attention. I have no interest in American literature, Ernest Hemingway, or Mark Twain. Not to mention the moral dissection and philosophical interpretations of Animal Farm and Gulliver’s Travels make me want to kill myself. When I read, it’s for fun and honestly, I can’t imagine being remotely interested in speaking to someone whose entire job is to lecture on these topics.
I am interrupted from my thoughts by the ringing of the bell. With the first bell brings the first wave of students and the start of the last day of the week. It’s Friday, and it’s going to be a good day.
* * *
By 3 p.m., the day has been so bad I forgot it was Friday. Four parent complaint emails, three student write-ups, and an issue with the copier that I don’t want to relive conspired against me to force a third cup of coffee at 2 p.m. Upon arriving back at my desk with the steaming cup of coffee and the hope of better things ahead, the coffee was promptly spilled across my desk. After my papers became glued to my desk due to its new coffee-scented stickiness, I officially gave up trying to make the day better and resolved to simply survive it. I sighed a big sigh of relief when the final bell rang, emptying my classroom of students for the weekend. My reprieve was short lived, though.
“Ms. Berkley, please come to the front office. Vice Principal Clark would like to see you,” Norma, the school secretary, calls through the intercom in my classroom.
“Coming,” I call cheerily, although I lay my head on my desk and bury my face in my arms. My day just went from crap on a cracker to dumpster fire.
Clark calling me to his office on the Friday of a home football game only means one thing: he wants me to volunteer. Faculty and staff are encouraged, but not required, to volunteer for sporting events. Normally there isn’t a problem filling the volunteer positions between faculty, staff, and parents, but occasionally there is a last-minute cancellation. That’s when Clark calls me. He calls on me because I rarely (if ever) say no. Even when I probably should say no or have a legitimate reason to say no, I never do. I can’t help it. It’s not in my nature to say no when faced with an opportunity to help someone in need. Even if that person is Vice Principal Clark and he’s probably taking advantage of my compulsions to say yes.
I fortify myself before trudging toward the front office. It’s never easy for me to say no to anyone, even for a legitimate reason, but Clark is particularly intimidating. I gather my courage because I have to say no today, I have plans and I don’t want to disappoint my friends.
Upon my arrival, Norma gives me a sympathetic smile as she nods toward his open door. I knock lightly as I enter. “Mr. Clark, you asked to see me?”
He glances up from his computer before returning his attention to the screen. “Yes,” he says distractedly. “I need you to cover the ticket booth tonight. Ms. Farley’s cat is ailing or some such nonsense.”
I nervously clear my throat. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t volunteer for the game tonight because I have plans.”
Mr. Clark does a double take and rests his steely gaze on me. “You have plans?” he asks with an insulting amount of surprise.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, I wish I could help.” I nervously begin backing out of his office.
“Look, Ms. Berkley,” he says, stopping me. “I understand this is an inconvenience, but I need your help. I need to fill this space, and you are the only one with the experience who can handle your window and help Mr. Warton with his window. It’s his first game, and you are the only one I can pair with him who won’t be the cause of some type of distraction.”
I can’t tell if he’s saying I won’t kill myself trying to hit on Warton or that Warton won’t even notice me enough to be distracted by me. Either way, I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to be offended. His backhanded compliment causes me to hesitate, but not to fold.
“I could really use your help, Elle. I would count it as a personal favor if you would cover this game for us,” he implores, making his face even more intimidating than normal.
I can’t resist. The girls will just have to forgive me. I sigh in defeat. “Yes, sir.”
He nods once in triumph and goes back to his computer screen. “Good. I knew I could count on you.”
Effectively dismissed, I walk from his office. Norma gives me a compassionate smile as I pass her desk and go back to my classroom in disappointment. The problem isn’t working the football game; I don’t really mind that. The problem is telling Ari and Rory the change in plans. That, and getting stuck in a tiny ticket booth with an English lit professor. I mentally shiver in disgust; I hope he doesn’t have some lifelong obsession with Henry David Thoreau like the guy he replaced.
I begin organizing for next week, studiously avoiding my phone and any messages or calls that might be waiting from Ari and Rory. A definite benefit to working Friday night football games is the extra time between the end of school and the game. No sense in going home in between, so I use the time to get all my papers graded and get ahead on the coming weeks. When I hear my phone buzz for the three-thousandth time, I finally answer and face the inevitable.
“Hey guys,” I greet sadly, not hiding the displeasure in my voice.
“What’s wrong?” Ari asks immediately.
“And why haven’t you been answering your phone?” Rory demands.
We almost always talk on the phone all together or chat on a group text, so being immediately greeted by both of them is not new. I gather my courage. “I have bad news.”
“I knew it!” Rory grumbles. “You got roped into working the game tonight, didn’t you?” She asks all too knowingly.
“Yes,” I deign to admit.
Ari sighs. “Oh Elle. You really should learn to say no.”
“I told him I had plans, but he insisted,” I argue defensively.
Rory snorts. “He can’t force you, Elle. You do more than your part.”
“I know. I just want to be helpful,” I mumble. “Don’t be mad. We’ll just need to alter our timeline tonight.”
“I think we should pivot. Save the movie marathon for Saturday night, maybe? Since we won’t have time to watch what we want, let’s just do dinner and a classic sitcom tonight or something. Rory and I both have to get up early to open tomorrow,” Ari suggests.
Although I get weekends off, both Ari and Rory’s stores open bright and early on Saturdays. Our Friday plans are always made with their early mornings in mind.
“Sounds good to me,” Rory agrees.
“Fine,” I mutter begrudgingly. I can’t shake the feeling that I ruined the night for all of us. In situations like this, though, it’s almost impossible not to disappoint anyone.
“For heaven’s sake, don’t be a negative Nelly. It’s fine,” Rory says impatiently. “Our night isn’t ruined.”
“We’ll just reschedule to Saturday night,” Ari confirms.
They are being nice to me, and I don’t feel like I deserve it.
“You aren’t going to pout about this, are you?” Rory asks me in a flat tone.
I huff. “I don’t pout.”
Ari laughs. “You do, sweetie.”
Rory laughs. “I have customers, I have to go, but we’ll see you tonight. No pouting!” she says quickly before she hangs up.
