Carol into the living room where groups of two or three older ladies were chatting happily.
“Is that little Katie?” a large woman said as she came at her with arms outstretched. She just had time to set her laptop and folders on an end table before enduring a crushing hug from the large woman who smelled
overwhelmingly of lilacs.
“It's me,” she returned weakly.
The woman was holding her at arms' length as if waiting for Kate to say her
name. “Oh, come now. Don't say you don't remember your old second-grade teacher?”
Kate's mind scrambled. Second grade, second grade, old room, smelled like
crayons and Comet cleanser, and…lilacs. “Mrs. Rooney?”
That got another crushing hug. “You do remember.”
“Sure, of course,” Kate said with what little breath she had left.
Her old teacher released her. “Look at you, all grown and beautiful. My little
artist.” She turned to her smiling friends. “Katie was the best artist. Always drawing in class, leaving me little notes and pictures.”
The other women cooed and smiled.
“I remember it like it was yesterday,” Mrs. Rooney continued. She looked up, head tilted, eyes closed, pointing with her finger. “You had a chair in the second row by the window. Half the time I'd call on you you'd be staring out the
window at Mrs. Malcom's flower garden or a bird or some such.” The other ladies tittered politely.
Okay, this was getting embarrassing. “Yes, that was me, I guess.”
Mrs. Rooney remembered more about her school days than she did.
“Yes, and when you weren't staring out the window you were staring at your
little friend Peter in the row next to you.”
Kate could feel her face warm. Yup, this was undeniably, officially
embarrassing.
“Little Peter, little Peter,” her teacher continued with a sigh. “You two were
inseparable. Always at recess together.” She whispered: “I once caught them holding hands by the monkey bars.” The other ladies tittered again.
This was getting out of hand. “Yes, well, that was a long time ago.”
“Little Peter, little Peter,” Mrs. Rooney said again, smiling and shaking her
head. “Although not so little anymore, now, is he?” She gave a nudge to one of
her friends, then returned her gaze to Kate. “And still an eligible bachelor, if I'm not mistaken.”
Kate just smiled. You're not, and someone get me out of here now.
Mrs. Rooney plowed on. “Eligible and handsome, if I might say.”
“And so polite,” a shorter woman contributed. “And a very good teacher, from what I understand. My grandson would have failed his class without his help. Came to his house to help tutor him.”
The other ladies nodded in approval. “I've heard the same from my
granddaughter, Stacy. She loves his class, and she never liked science at all.”
Yes, terrific, we all agree that Peter is a great guy and a fantastic catch. Let's all start a Peter club. You can be President. Now, how do I get out of here?
Kate looked to Carol for help, but only got an approving smile and nod.
“Have you been able to see Peter while you're here?” Mrs. Rooney
continued. “He's just next door, you know.”
No kidding. “Oh, yes, I've seen him once or twice.”
She caught Mrs. Rooney staring at her ring finger for a moment. “You,
know, I imagine someone will be snapping him up soon. He can't stay single forever.”
“I'm sure someone will,” Kate said, hoping her agreement would end the
