"And Miss Petal says before we were monkeys we lived in the sea and had gills and everything."
"And Miss Petal says that in a hundred thousand years humans will have evolved into something else, and we will look different than we do now."
"And Miss Petal says there are many different species living on the other planets."
It had been going on like that for two weeks, ever since her arrival. Breakfasts and dinners progressed the same, with Chester rambling about everything he'd learned in class, never forgetting to drop his teacher's now famous name in, reminding me of her existence.
The thing was, I didn't need a reminder. I saw her every day when I dropped him off and picked him up. I saw the smile. The golden tresses of soft blonde hair. The enviously svelte body. The difference now, as opposed to with past teachers, was that I eagerly anticipated these brief moments in her presence. The sneaky little glances I took when she wasn't looking. Or the little smiles we exchanged when she caught me looking. I'd blushed so much around her, she must have thought that was my permanent color!
"Wow, someone really likes Miss Petal, huh?" I said to my son that morning, after yet another of his monologues about his great and wonderful new teacher.
"She's awesome. And she has an amazing voice when she sings."
Of course she can sing too, I thought, doing an internal eye roll. What else could she do, heal the sick? Turn water into wine? He'd told me and Dominic last week, when we helped him on his hobbies essay, that she used to be a gymnast. A pro, he'd said, competing in competitions until her late teens.
"Really?" I'd watched Dominic's eyebrows rise with intrigue. "A gymnast? And does she still practice? She must be pretty flexible..."
I didn't need him to spell out what was on his dirty mind. The guy was like an open book – the sort that should have been banned or burned!
"She used to be in the choir at school. She says we're going to start a class rock band. So cool," Chester went on. I'd taught him not to speak with his mouth full, but when it came to Miss Petal, his favorite subject, he couldn't contain himself. Cereal sprayed everywhere as he chatted animatedly.
"I can't wait to eat some of Miss Petal's cake today at the bake sale. It's chocolate."
"I thought you didn't like chocolate cake, honey."
"But Miss Petal's one will be nice. I just know it."
I held back a laugh. Like father, like son.
"Should we take the cookies with us now, or should I bring them this afternoon when we set up the stall?"
He shrugged and went on talking about his teacher. If I were any other mother, Beth or Miranda especially, I would have banned mention of her name under my roof by now. But for some reason I enjoyed learning about Miss Petal's life, without her knowing. It felt a little sneaky, even though I wasn't sending Chester to her to extract the information. He couldn't answer the more pertinent questions, however, like: did she move here alone? How old was she? Was there a man in her life? None of that was my business, nor could I figure out why it even mattered to me.
I would have to do some digging of my own. And the bake sale was the perfect opportunity for that.
Parents and students circled and hovered around the various stalls, on which sat treats of all kinds – from homemade toffee to fancy cupcakes. I counted twenty-five tables, including mine and Chester's. Everyone had gone to a lot of trouble, like they did every year. It was sort of a big deal for the school, something mothers planned weeks in advance, practicing new recipes, trying to perfect them in time for the bake sale. All proceeds went to charity, so everyone was happy.
I'd opted for my snowflake cookies, which had always been a hit.
"Mmm, you have to give me this recipe," Beth said, munching on her third one. She didn't mind dropping several dollars on these, and insisted I just sell the whole batch to her.
I laughed. "You ask me that every time I make these. It's a trade secret. If I told you I'd have to kill you."
She pouted. "What a horrible person you are! I can't believe we're friends."
"Are we friends?" I joked. "I thought our kids were friends. You and I just tolerate each other."
After insisting that I was the worst person she'd ever met, then telling me she'd be back to gossip in ten minutes, she left me to go hunt down some more treats. The way she ate, she should have been the size of a castle!
I saw Chester in the crowd with a couple of his friends, Beth's son Jack, and Miranda's daughter Emma. Typical. It was his bake sale, yet I'd been left to do the labor. Come to think of it, he hadn't helped much in the baking either.
I was lost in thought, wondering whether I'd been unwittingly raising my son to be just like his father, when I looked up and saw Miss Petal approaching my table. Her strap dress was a light yellow and flowed when she walked, just like her hair.
"Hi." She beamed at me, white teeth gleaming.
"Hello." There was a frog in my throat. When I cleared it I said it again.
She looked down at the sign on the table. "Snowflake cookies. Yummy." I watched her tongue pass across her bottom lip, and I couldn't tear my eyes away. "I just heard some of the other parents talking about them." She reached into her purse, a little one she wore across her shoulder. She took out two dollar bills. "One, please."
I took the money from her, picked up a napkin and handed her a cookie. "If they're as delicious as everyone says they are, I might take the whole lot."
"Actually, there's a three per customer rule."
"Really? Wow, they must be something special."
My intention hadn't been to watch her eat, but that was precisely what I did. I watched her take her first bite, with those succulent red lips. It seemed to happen in slow motion. I wanted her to like it; love it. Her approval was suddenly extremely important to me.
"Oh my God, this is like a bite of Heaven!"
Approved.
I laughed. "I'm glad you like it."
"Like it? I love it." She gobbled and gobbled the rest down, moaning with delight after every mouthful. The whole thing sounded a little x-rated. Too sexy for this setting. Or was that just my lecherous mind making me think that?
"Now I understand why there's a three per customer rule. I think I'll take two more, take them home with me."
My curiosity was piqued. Who was she taking them home for, herself or the male model I suspected she was dating? In my head she lived in this fancy, expensive apartment in the upmarket part of town, drove an expensive car, and had a rich, hunky boyfriend to fit her perfectly beautiful life. That image didn't exactly fit with the woman standing before me now, however; munching away at one of my cookies, she seemed completely unconcerned by how she looked, or what anyone thought of her.
I wrapped a couple more up and took her money. I felt like giving them all to her for free! She probably had that effect on many people.
"Hey, I adore your necklace. Where did you get it?" she said.
"I made it. That's what I do. Make jewelry no one wants, then spend my life trying to convince them they can't live without it."
She chuckled. "So you make jewelry and you can bake? And the rest of us mere mortals have to settle for being ordinary."
Was she teasing me? There were many things this woman was, but ordinary wasn't one of them.
I snorted, then spoke before I could stop myself. "Says the lady who sings, used to be a gymnast, and once beat Serena Williams in a friendly game of tennis."
Oh, dear God! What the hell was I thinking coming out with that stuff? Well, that was just it, I wasn't thinking. Why had Chester shared that information with me? And, more importantly, why had I retained it?
She looked at me with narrowed eyes, a little smirk at the corner of her mouth. "Well, that's just not fair. You know all about me, but I know nothing about you, Mrs. Thomas."
She put a hand on her hip, and she looked and sounded like a true southern belle, her accent becoming more pronounced, more singsong in her amusement.
"I'm sorry. Chester goes on and on about you. It's Miss Petal this, Miss Petal that." There was no way she missed my blush.
She chuckled. "I know what children are like, don't worry about it. Chester's a great kid."
"Do you have kids?" I silently praised myself on the natural transition into the topic of her marital status.
"Oh no." She shook her head quickly, as though the idea was absurd. "Motherhood's a long way off for me."
"And your boyfriend, he feels the same...?"
"Well, if I had one he might." Her smile was daring, as though she knew the casual tone I'd been trying for was forced.
So she was single. The world truly didn't make sense. What was the saying? If a beautiful woman is single, she must be crazy. Misogynistic drivel, but it did get me thinking. Maybe she was between relationships. Or perhaps had come out of a bitter divorce just recently. Who was I to question why she was single? I knew better than most what trouble men were. If anything, she was the sane one.
I wanted to grill her further, but one of the dads came over to the table. I knew immediately that he had no intention of buying anything, and that Miss Petal was his target. This wasn't an isolated incident. In fact it was a regular occurrence, something I'd witnessed numerous times. The men would hover around her like bees to nectar, like moths to light bulbs. Flirted outrageously, offering to do things for her, always one overzealous compliment away from being creepy.
"If you come down to the garage, we can do you a deal, no problem."
"My friend owns a restaurant in town. Nice place. Just let me know when you wanna go down there and you can eat there free of charge. It might only work if I'm with you, though..."
Yeah, they really were that slimy. Married men flirting with their kids' teacher. How pathetic. I wondered what Dominic would offer her? He'd probably offer to add her to his hedge fund or something, promising to make her filthy, stinking rich.
"See ya, Mrs. Thomas," Miss Petal said, and walked off with the man. I shook my head, and didn't realize I'd folded my arms until Chester came to the table and asked me why I was sulking.
I really didn't want to consider the answer to that.