Page 86 of Passing Notes
Curious glances flew my way as I passed Big Bob’s and Big Ben’s, skipped around Black’s Southern Staples, shimmied past Viking MMA and Stripped, and headed toward Donner Bakery. I wasn’t always this relaxed, but this morning, good mood and positivity vibrated off me.
The only thing that could make this day better was knowing that by the end of it, my parents and brothers with their families would all be back in town. For the first time in years, we’d all be together, and this visit would knock their socks off. Maybe they’d all even consider moving back to Green Valley. Maybe by next Christmas we’d be living near each other once again, like all the other close families in town.
The idea thrilled me.
“Where’s the fire, Mariam Mitchell?” A woman’s voice cut through my reverie as Maxine Barton blocked my path forward. She narrowed her eyes at me. The older woman was the picture of a Southern lady but wielded her thoughts and opinions like weapons.
Flanking her were Becky Lee Monroe, Julianne McIntyre, and Janice Cooper. Individually, Becky Lee, with her blessed gene pool, was the mother of the Monroe brothers, Julianne was the retired head librarian, and Ms. Cooper was the former band director whose position I took over at Green Valley High School. Collectively, they were an incomplete sampling of the local group self-dubbed as the Bunco Broads: a group of retired women who met every Thursday for fierce competitive play of the game bunco. Or at least so much as Clara Hill had told me. It was rare to get an invite to that club.
I would have been a little intimidated by all these women if not for the soothing presence of Ms. Cooper. My former band instructor was always a pleasure to see.
“Good morning,” I said and fixed my features into a smile. “How are y’all this morning?” I waved to each woman in turn.
I was usually willing to shoot the breeze with the fine folks of Green Valley, but today I was in a rush, and this group of women could chat my life story out of me if I wasn’t on guard. My apartment still needed cleaning, I had to confirm reservations at the Lodge, and then I still had to head over to Knoxville to pick everybody up from the airport. Thankfully, their flights would all land at similar times, and I wouldn’t?—
“Are you listening?” Maxine snapped her fingers in front of my face.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s a little early to be collecting donations, isn’t it?” Mrs. McIntyre asked not unkindly.
“Remember, you’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” Maxine added. “She’s lucky she’s blond and pretty.”
Internally, I flinched. Not at the sort of complisult about my looks, but because it was true that most of my time around town, when not spent directing band performances, was spent walking door-to-door to get donations from the shop owners. When compared to sports, music programs were about as high priority as a mosquito farm in the summer. And I had, more than once, been accused of being aggressive, maybe even pushy, though I preferred to think of myself as highly motivated. If I didn’t care about the various band programs, nobody would.
“No fundraising today,” I explained. “I’m headed to Donner Bakery. My family is back in town for the weekend.”
Ms. Cooper beamed at me. “How lovely. You send everyone our love.”
“Is that why you’re walking like there are ants in your pants?” Maxine asked.
Maybe I had been rushing a little bit. “Uh, I?—”
“It’s been a while since they’ve been back, hasn’t it?” Ms. Cooper asked, shooting Maxine a look.
I glanced up the street where the line from the bakery was now stretching to the door. A fission of tension gripped me as I calculated my time. “Yes, Ms. Cooper.”
“Call me Janice. Ms. Cooper is my former stepmother,” she said with a wink. She placed a hand on my shoulder, her wooden bangles clanking. “Plus, we’re peers now that you direct the band.”
“Right. Janice.” I struggled with the casual name. Ms. Cooper had always been my favorite teacher. She had that inspiration for music and life that I hoped to infuse in my own students. She helped get me into college and vouched for me when I applied for her position after she announced her plans for retirement. I owed her everything. “Mom and Dad come home every other Christmas, but Jonas and Noah and their families haven’t ever been here all at once since my niece was born.”
Even saying it out loud, I worried about jinxing this visit. I’d been trying for years to get all our schedules matched up. Or rather, their schedules. This weekend was a chance for us all to be together again and remind them of how important family was.
“You are practically glowing with excitement,” Becky Lee said, her large blond bob shining.
“I’m very excited,” I admitted with a smile.
“This is a big day. We won’t keep you,” Becky Lee said.
The group of women started to move on. “Have a nice day, y’all,” I said.
I had been just about to wog (walk/jog) at a respectable pace when I noticed Janice lingering. She glanced at the retreating women and held out a hand to stop me. “Just one more thing, Mari,” she said. “If you have a minute.”
“Of course.” My phone in my pocket vibrated, and the line outside grew. If I didn’t hurry up, they’d run out of the best pies and banana cakes. But this was Ms. Cooper. She changed the trajectory of my life. I smoothed my features into a smile. “What can I do for you?”
“As you know, as everybody knows I’m sure, my son is back in town.” She patted her short, tight, graying curls.
I nodded. Everybody did know of her son. Leo Cooper was one of the most successful Green Valley alum. Since he was a few grades younger than me, I only saw him as my favorite teacher’s weird little son named Leonard. I had vague memories of a scrawny, wannabe emo kid. All I knew of him now came from clickbait headlines.