by Nancy Warren
As he walked out of his classroom at the end of the day he felt like he was making headway. He understood that the Mr. Bennett he replaced had been teaching at this school for thirty years. Geoff had a feeling the lesson plan hadn’t changed a bit in all those years.
Well, he thought, things were about to change in the English department of Jefferson High.
He was heading for the door that led to the staff parking lot, when a woman’s voice called, “Geoff.”
He turned and waited as one of the science teachers hurried up to him. Tara. Her name was Tara something. She was smiling at him in a way that made him feel slightly harried. One thing he’d loved about being married was the barbed wire fence of safety it provided. He’d been hit on a time or two and always deferred to the ring. Now he didn’t have the protection of the ring any more.
She was a nice looking woman. Hot in fact, with long stylish blond hair. He noticed she liked to wear tight clothes and clingy tops that were barely on the correct side of appropriate. Big smile. Friendly. He tried to convince himself she was only being friendly when she came right up to him and said, “Good, I was looking for you.”
She had a Texas accent. “I was lookin fer yew.”
“You found me,” he said, brilliant creative writing teacher that he was, so good with words.
“Some of the younger teachers head to Eugene on Fridays after work. Have a couple of drinks, sometimes do dinner. We’re going tomorrow. I wondered if you’d like to come.”
“Oh, thanks. Uh, I only got my stuff delivered yesterday. I’ll be unpacking tomorrow. But thanks.”
“Well come next time, then.”
“I will. Thank you.” Then, thinking maybe he’d been too abrupt, he said, “I already agreed to go to a vegan potluck, whatever that is.”
She stopped to stare. “You’re going to the vegan potluck?” She said it as though he were going to worship Satan. Of course, being from Texas, steak capital of the world, she probably did consider vegans to be in league with the devil.
“Yes. Ellen invited me. Seemed like a good idea to get to know the town.”
“Well that’s good that you’re not sitting home alone all weekend.”
She didn’t leave his side but walked with him to the teachers’ parking lot, chatting the whole way. How was he lahkin it here, did he think he’d stay lawng?
She was a nice woman, friendly. Sexy as hell. And he had zero interest.
He wondered if he’d ever be interested in women again, then recalled that moment earlier in the Sunflower Coffee and Tea Company when he’d felt that flicker of awareness.
Not that he’d be dating anytime soon, but maybe one day.
Chapter Three
Marguerite Chance strolled into Sunflower later that afternoon. In her hands was an earthenware pot with paper whites just coming into bloom. A second pot held a robust basil plant, bursting with fragrant green leaves. “Oh, how pretty,” Iris exclaimed as she gave her sister a quick hug. “And thanks for the basil.”
“Don't kill this one,” Marguerite ordered. Iris was sadly aware that she had killed the last two basil plants her sister brought her. “Thought I might trade them for some green tea, a veggie sandwich and,” Marguerite breathed deeply. “Oh, tell me that’s your wicked brownies I’m smelling?”
“It is. And it’s a good trade.” Marguerite was magic in the garden and absolutely useless in the kitchen while Iris was the exact opposite. Marguerite grew her herbs for her and kept her small garden tended, while she made sure her younger sister got fed. It worked.
The coffee shop wasn’t too busy. A few teenagers who’d come in after school lounged in comfy chairs sipping fancy coffees and goofing around.
An older couple sat at a table with a road map in front of them. She suspected they’d come in to use the washroom on a long road trip and then bought coffees because they felt bad. The fact that they’d ended up having paninis and two of her wicked brownies for dessert she put down to her talent in writing up her food descriptions, cooking same, and displaying it all to advantage.
Other than that, there was a quiet guy named Eric in the corner with his laptop. Eric was a budding screenwriter who worked in the horror genre. So far all he’d experienced was rejection but he’d told Iris repeatedly that he felt like the energy in her coffee shop was really creative.
He’d also taken to pouring out his troubles, both creative and personal, whenever he got the opportunity.
“What are you bringing Sunday night?” Marguerite asked, bringing her back to earth.
“Sunday night? Oh, don’t tell me it’s a family dinner I’ve forgotten.”
“No. It’s the vegan potluck and it’s at my house.”
“But I’m not a vegan.”
“So what. You’re my sister and I need you there.” She paused to sip her tea. “I also need your pot luck dish. You know I can’t cook.”
She eyed the pots sitting on the table between them. “I’ll make you a vegan dish. Probably containing fresh basil. But I can’t face all that tie-dye and hemp.”
“Be nice about our parents.” She grinned. “It’ll be fun. Scott Beatty will be there. And maybe some other single guys.”
“There are no decent single guys in this town.”
“There’s a new teacher at the high school. He’s coming.”
Now her interest was caught. “Geoff McLeod is coming to the vegan potluck?”
Marguerite put her cup down with a snap. “You know him?”
“No. He came in this morning and grabbed some coffees and muffins.”
“And?”
“And nothing. He seemed nice. He also seemed married.”
“I don't think so. Nobody mentioned a wife.”
“Maybe she’s, I don’t know, packing up the house or something and coming out later.”
“You can ask him all about his wife at the potluck. Sunday.”
The trouble with owning a coffee shop was that everyone in town knew where to find her. And, even if she tried to shut herself away in her kitchen at the back it didn’t matter. The number of people who felt they had the right to barge back here astonished her.
Her mother being the worst offender.
“Hi, darling,” Daphne Chance said, appearing at Iris’s side while she cooked up an experimental vegan dish in her kitchen. “I didn’t see you out front so I thought I’d sneak back here and see how you’re doing.”
“I’m doing fine, Mom. Trying out a new recipe for brownies made with beets. For the vegan potluck.”
“Oh, that sounds delicious. I can’t wait to try them.”
Actually, neither could Iris. She liked adding new menu items and seeing how they went over. There were enough vegans and food sensitive types in the area that she thought she might try selling the beet brownies if they turned out okay.
She also made a dish of brown rice with garbanzo beans and coconut milk and various spices (including fresh basil) that was quite delicious. At least she wouldn’t be too hungry.
When Sunday night came, she dressed with care and knew she wasn’t doing it for Scott Beatty. Even as she stood in front of the mirror to push the silver posts of her favorite amethyst dangly earrings through the holes in her ears she saw the excitement shining in her eyes.
Okay, so there was an interesting new man in town. And she liked the look of him. He’d been in again Friday morning on his way to work and they’d exchanged a quick greeting. She’d taken the time to note that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, not that lack of a ring was evidence of being single. She’d find out for sure tonight.
Not even the humiliation of knowing he’d overheard her assistant announcing her lack of a sex life could quite prevent the flutter of – something, when she thought of him. Maybe, if nothing else, she could sharpen her flirting skills.
Iris finished dressing. Because her work required clothes that she could wear to cook and serve food, when she went out she tended to dress up a little. She wore her good jeans, the
ones that were figure flattering, a sleeveless white cotton shirt and a few silver bracelets and the rings she never wore at work.
She put extra effort into her makeup, actually bothered with her hair, styling it in loose curls that hung past her shoulders and decided she was good to go.
She packed up her casserole dishes in her hatchback and headed to her sister’s house. While she’d chosen to live in the city of Hidden Falls, in a tiny house built at the turn of the century, back when the town enjoyed its boom as a logging town, her sister was more rural.
Marguerite’s little piece of heaven was a corner of the land that their parents lived on. It wouldn’t work for everyone, but it worked fine for Marguerite. She had land to grow her vegetables on, quiet which she seemed to crave, and yet her family were all close by.
The vegan potluck had been started by a small group of vegans and grown to be a monthly event that drew a lot of people. Carnivores, omnivores and vegetarians were all welcome. But the same open mindedness did not extend to the food people were allowed to bring to the potluck. In fact, there was a list of instructions that went out each month with the reminder emails. No eggs, no dairy, no honey, which she always thought was going a tad far.
Didn’t matter what she thought. The rules were the rules. Each person was required to bring a potluck dish that would feed six people and include a list of ingredients and the recipe.
Baking brownies without eggs was a challenge but in baking Iris loved a challenge. Her beet brownies were surprisingly good. Rich and dense and, because she’d used good chocolate, bursting with dark flavor. She was less thrilled about some of the dishes she’d be encountering at the potluck but at least they didn't frown on alcohol, so she could enjoy a glass of wine and hang out with her friends and neighbors.
She was enjoying her first glass of wine and chatting to Reyna Moore. Reyna was her accountant and the accountant of most of the small business owners in Hidden Falls. She and her husband boarded horses and offered riding lessons on their ten acres, and they had three kids that kept them busy. They were standing in the big open living area of Marguerite’s small house and, during a pause in the conversation, she glanced up and happened to see Geoff walk in, following the instructions on the big note taped to the door that said: Don’t knock, come on in.
As he did she felt his aloneness. Had an instant instinct, not only that this was hard for him, but that there was an invisible woman beside him as obvious as a missing limb.
She watched him glance around, felt the warmth of compassion begin to flow through her. He held a salad bowl and even though she knew she was doing it again, that thing she’d sworn not to do, her instinct to nurture and protect was stronger than her ability to flirt.
She excused herself from Reyna, feeling that being Marguerite’s sister gave her an excuse to act like a hostess. She strode forward. “Hi, Geoff,” she said, and took the bowl from him. “I’m—“
“Iris. I remember.” No doubt they were both hearing the silent ‘the one who needs to get laid.’
“You made it. And you brought food.”
“I brought salad. I drove to Eugene to get vegan salad dressing. I didn’t want to risk compromising the vegan guidelines.”
She chuckled. “Come on, I’ll show you where the food goes.”
She led him through to the dining area off the kitchen where a line up of various casserole dishes, plates and bowls contained everything from kale slaw to nut casseroles to her beet brownies.
She made a space for Geoff’s salad. “Would you like a glass of wine?” she asked.
“Is it vegan?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, then.”
She poured him a glass of red and topped up her own glass.
“Come and meet everyone,” she said taking him under her wing without even realizing she was doing it.
The crowd wasn’t all hemp and tie-dye. A few of the women in particular dressed up.
He had a nice way with him. He was friendly, able to make conversation with anybody but she noticed there was always a slight distance as though he knew that he could end up on the other side of a parent-teacher conference with any of these people so he didn’t let himself get too cozy.
They were called to order by Hal Gerome, a soft spoken man who ran the local health food store and offered meditation retreats and yoga classes in the back of his store. “I’d like to welcome everyone to our feast.” He held out his two hands. “Now, if we could all join hands, let’s share a blessing before we eat.”
She glanced at Geoff to see how he was taking the blessing and found him looking down at her with a tiny twinkle in his eye. He held out a hand and she put hers into it. Why should that feel intimate? It was ridiculous. Her other hand was taken by Barbara Mirkowitz who, everyone in town pretty much considered a saint. She and her husband had retired here with little money and what they had they tended to give away. Barbara rode her bike in all weather all year round, wearing a string of battery operated Christmas lights around her neck to make her more visible on the roads. When they’d discovered a homeless woman begging, they’d invited her to pitch her tent on their property.
But Barbara’s saint like hand did not make her sizzle on contact.
When everyone was joined in an approximation of a circle, Hal asked everyone to close their eyes, “If that feels right to you.” He gave them a moment and then he gave a blessing that was more of a standing meditation than a prayer.
After that, it was time to eat. Geoff stayed loosely by her side as they chomped on nut casseroles, rice and bean dishes, various dips and breads and salads.
At one point, they were alone and he leaned in. “I have a confession to make.”
“Really?” And here’s where he tells you his wife will be following with the U-Haul in a couple of days.
He leaned closer. He really did have the nicest eyes, blue with enough flecks of gray to keep things interesting. “I’m not a vegan,” he said with great seriousness.
Oh, he was definitely hitting on her. In that moment she became convinced that no wife in a U-Haul was going to show up. “Neither am I,” she whispered back.
“Does that mean if I were to ask you out for a burger you’d go?”
“Are you asking me whether I eat meat or are you asking me out on a date?”
His eyes squinted briefly. “I am so out of practice. I’m asking you to have dinner with me. Do people still date?”
“I believe it’s still a common custom.”
“Will you? Go on a date with me? Have dinner with me?”
She recalled the way he’d walked in as though an invisible partner were by his side. “Are you single?”
“Yes,” he said sounding shocked that she would ask. “Of course.” He added, sounding less certain. “Barely,” he finally admitted.
She nodded. Who knew the signs better than she did? “Long term relationship?”
Sadness swirled around him like a sudden, cold fog. “Marriage. Ended.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. So am I.” Then he seemed to pull himself together and remember that he was talking to a woman he’d asked out on a date. “You seem nice, like someone I could talk to.”
Of course she did. He was going through a tough time and he wanted a sympathetic shoulder. Naturally. She should say no. She should tell him that she was a hot chick with a lot going on and she only dated men who were emotionally available and completely into her. But the truth was that she could no more ignore someone who was hurting emotionally than a doctor could step over a person having a heart attack. At least he’d be interesting to talk to.
“All right. I’d like to have dinner with you.”
He looked relieved and she realized that some of her hesitation must have shown in her face.
He hadn’t asked if she was seeing anyone but then after hearing her assistant say she needed to get laid he could safely assume she was single.
The horrifying thought popped into
her head that he thought she was so desperate for sex that he’d be getting more than a burger. But there was no way she was going to tell a man she hadn’t gone out with yet that she wasn’t planning to have sex with him.
Not only did Iris not do casual sex, his ex was too big a presence in his life. And Iris didn’t do threeways.
A young woman’s voice cried out, ”Geoff, you made it.”
Iris turned to see a woman who looked to be a couple of years younger in jeans so tight you just knew she had to lie on her back on the floor and wriggle into them. Paired with the jeans was a clingy blue top that revealed spectacular cleavage. She had layers of long blond hair and a big smile. Iris had seen her around town but never met her.
“Tara, hi.” He glanced between the two women. “I’m guessing you two already know each other?”
“Actually, no. I’m Iris,” she said extending her hand.
“Tara Barnes. I teach chemistry and physics at the high school. And you run that nice little bakery.”
Tara had a Texas accent so it was hard to be certain but Iris got the feeling that the subtext was, I’m so smart I understand compound chemistry -- and you bake muffins for a living.
Which was probably completely unfair of her. So she said, “Yes, that’s right. The Sunflower Tea and Coffee Company.”
“I keep meaning to come in and have a coffee but the place is always full of my students.” Subtext: you’re not only dumb but you run a hangout for juvies.
She smiled. “I think I’d better go help my sister with the coffees. Since I’m an expert.”
And she excused herself, heading into the kitchen.
Ever since their mother had taken up pottery and bought her own kiln, no one in the family was short of pottery, especially coffee mugs. Daphne Chance’s clay creations tended to mirror her moods. When she was feeling serious, the mugs emerged from the kiln in a single color and all approximately the same size and shape.
But Daphne was rarely serious. Especially when she was potting. She sold the best of her work at local gift shops so her family tended to get the seconds. The mugs that Marguerite was pulling from the cupboard and lining up on the counter ranged from rainbow colored mugs with bulbous bottoms to curvy cups that hinted at the female body, to gnomes and fairies. “I’ll make coffee,” Iris said as she walked in.
