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“Why don’t we move on to the next step?” Brad suggested, his tone falsely bright. “Ms. Michaels, maybe you can help us fill our teaspoons with baking soda?”
For the next hour, the two classrooms painstakingly mixed together the dry and wet ingredients for cookie dough. Rainey alternated between pretending to help and staring at her phone in secret at the front of the class. The children were too distracted to notice. That, and they made frequent mistakes and messes, which required Brad to hurry from place to place with a rag or a broom.
By the time Maya appeared in the classroom, her cheeks pink from her chilly walk from the bed and breakfast, the first baking trays were, impossibly, in the three ovens in the activity room. Brad felt breathless, as though he’d just run a half-marathon. Maya seemed like a mirage.
“Good afternoon!” She beamed across the activity room as the kids peered at her curiously.
“Who are you?” Tiffany demanded with her hands on her hips.
“This is Maya,” Brad announced proudly. “Can everyone say hello to Maya?”
The two classrooms called out, “Hello, Maya!” and blinked at this newcomer, this beautiful stranger, their mouths ajar. Many of them were covered in dough or peppered with flour. Several of them had it in their hair, giving them the look of very tiny old people.
“You’re back.” Rainey approached, sounding accusatory.
Maya continued to smile, although she looked increasingly nervous.
“Excuse me! Mr. Turner?” Tiffany called again. “Is this your wife?”
“You mean girlfriend,” another of the kids corrected.
Brad chuckled as Maya turned and gave him a look of panic.
“Maya is brand-new to Hollygrove,” Brad said. “Which means she’s my new friend. Aren’t friends nice?”
The children continued to assess her as though it was up to them to gauge if she was appropriate for Brad to date. Brad imagined a TV dating show in which his students chose his new girlfriend, then quickly shook the thought from his mind.
“You’ve been hard at work,” Maya said, her voice wavering.
“It’s been a mess,” Rainey told her, trying to step between her and Brad. “I don’t know what got into Brad’s head, thinking the kids could make cookies.”
“They’re going to be delicious,” Brad scolded Rainey. He hated when she spoke ill of the kids’ skills in front of them. It didn’t do anything for their confidence.
“I’m sure they are,” Maya said.
“You should help us frost tomorrow,” one of the kids suggested. “We’re going to need it.”
“If you want to get really messy,” Rainey said.
“I don’t mind a little mess.” Maya tucked her hair behind her ears. “The only real fear I have is that I’ll eat too many of the cookies as we frost them.”
“Not me,” Rainey said. “I hate sugar.”
Maya arched her eyebrow in surprise.
“It’s terrible for you,” Rainey went on.
“Is it? I’ve never heard that before,” Maya said.
Rainey’s eyes glinted menacingly. She’d picked up on Maya’s sarcasm— and she hated feeling foolish. Brad’s stomach tightened.
It was nearly three in the afternoon, which meant the day was nearly through. Brad and Maya helped the children clean up, which was a herculean task in and of itself. Rainey continued to shoot daggers at both Brad and Maya until she gathered her students and led them back to her classroom. When the final bell rang and the children streamed out of the activity room to fetch the bus or meet their parents at the front door, Maya removed two baking trays from the ovens and slated the next two inside.
“You don’t have to do that,” Brad said.
“Are you kidding? I haven’t baked in ages,” Maya said, clapping her hands of spare flour. “My ex-boyfriend was a high-end chef, so baking things as silly as cookies was never an option. It always had to be a creme brûlée or an Italian meringue or something gelatinous and Korean.”
Brad laughed openly, surprised at how joyful he felt. She had an ex, and she wasn’t exactly fond of him. Every new piece of information she lent felt sacred.
