“You,” she deadpanned. “This is not new.”
“Yoo-hoo!” A voice carried across the crowd. Emma and I both turned to see Lou waving from a booth a bit ahead of where we were in line. She was sitting with two ladies that were likely in their eighties. I recognized them from the auction. Both women had fresh-set waves of silver hair. One wore some bright red glasses. The other one had a foot swinging from below the table, and I couldn’t help but notice her black patent leather Birkenstocks. Their attention to detail made me smile, even while I felt their gazes rake over my belly.
“Hey Lou,” I called back, figuring I might as well acknowledge her. God knows she’d just get louder if I didn’t. The line moved up, and we were now closer to their table.
Lou raised an eyebrow as she took in my T-shirt. “Well, that statement is perfect, Maggie. Tongues are already wagging in town. Might as well throw it back at them.”
I shrugged. “Figured you’d likely already done that for me, Lou.”
“Got your back, girl. You know I do.”
Her companions sat watching. I wondered if they wanted to get a notebook out to write this all down. Or hell, in this day and age, I was surprised someone wasn’t livestreaming our conversation for social media. Whatever.
“You want to share genders? Names? Due date?” Lou asked. I noticed the two ladies leaned in at this.
“Sorry to disappoint, Lou. Nothing to share in terms of gender or names. The due date is right after the new year.” I gave her a smile, even though part of me screamed that if I lived in Chicago, I likely wouldn’t be explaining my personal life to people I saw while standing in line for lunch.
“That’s enough, Lou.” Emma said, squeezing my arm. “Hopefully that topped off your gossip tank for a week or two.”
“Pshaw, you know me better than that, Emma.” Lou shook her head in mock disgust, but then gave Emma a soft smile. “Missing you, neighbor. That Maxwell Harp better be taking good care of you.”
“He is, Lou.” Emma reached over to squeeze her hand. Then we moved up in line until we were at the counter.
My former student, Syd, stood behind the counter, waiting for our order. The giant chalkboard to the right announced the specials for the day. I looked it over and decided on a turkey and bacon sandwich with avocado. Emma got a large salad with chicken and poppy seed dressing. As Syd typed our order into the computer, I asked her how college was going. Taking my credit card from me, she gave me a shy look. “I finally declared a major.”
“That’s great!” I knew she’d been searching, trying to figure out a plan for some time. “What did you land on?”
“Education.” She looked from Emma to me. “My concentration is middle school with an endorsement in language arts.”
Emma smiled at Syd, then bumped my shoulder. “And I bet you might have had some great teachers that influenced that decision.”
“Absolutely,” Syd exclaimed, glancing my way. “Ms. Jameson, I hope you knew how much you impacted me already.”
My heart tugged. Syd was in my first class, same as Taylor who had been in to Pages last week. It was good to hear any positive feedback from that year. I’d certainly felt lost as I tried to figure out how the lessons from college worked with the reality of the classroom.
“Thanks, Syd. That’s great to hear. And you will make an excellent teacher.” I heard a throat clear behind me. I guessed the next customer was ready to place their order and didn’t much care what Syd’s major was. We waved our goodbyes and headed to a booth in the front of the restaurant.
Sliding across from Emma, I lost myself in memories of teaching here for the past six years. So far somewhere in the neighborhood of more than six hundred students had been through my classroom. I guess I hadn’t given much thought to the lasting influence I might have on any of them as a middle school teacher. I mean, there were teachers before me, teachers after. What did one teacher matter in the long run?
“Earth to Maggie,” Emma called. I met her eyes, and she nodded back to Syd. “I know you and Sully are hot and heavy. And please note I haven’t asked what the plan is after next year, for which I feel like I should earn an award.”
“Noted,” I quipped.
“But are you thinking that wherever you land, you’ll still teach?” she asked.
“Well, sure,” I replied. “I mean, that’s one of the best parts of my profession. Schools are all over the country, and there’s a shortage of teachers in most places. I can likely get a job wherever I decide to move.” I tried to picture myself teaching somewhere besides Highland Falls, but anytime I called up a classroom, it was my room just across town. Interesting.
Emma nodded. “Makes sense.” Something over my shoulder caught her eye, and she started laughing. “So. Damn. Whipped.”
I tilted my head in confusion at her. “What?” And as the words left my mouth, I felt a light touch move my hair off my neck. Looking up, Sully stood next to our booth.
“Scoot over, Mags,” he said.
I shook my head. Surely I was hallucinating. Nope. He slid next to me in the booth, and I quickly moved over. “What are you doing here?” I whispered.
Sully looked up at the special board, then back to me. “Felt an urge for a BLT.”
“You work at a place that could make that.” I pointed out.
