The M.I.L.F. Man

Strike one...

I said, "Yeah, I get it."

And he sat forward then. Hands folded. Earnest expression. Ready to close this deal.

"They've made a very interesting offer, by the way. They'd like your Valencia students to keep taking the course through this distance learning setup they have. Walther'll lend them some laptops—they'd be up on a big screen, too, like they were sitting there with you. They've got all kinds of apps and gadgets. They take classes at all these European schools that way, so..."

"The Valencia kids are three weeks into the course already, though," I said.

He sat back and chuckled. "Believe me, the Walther kids'll catch up in no time. I mean, it's a kind of remedial course, right?"

"And they'll run right over the Valencia kids, too, correct?" Chas said. "If they're so gifted and talented?"

I had to heave a pretty big sigh. "He has a point. Open-ended questions stay open a long time at Valencia. And it's not always because they don't know the answers. It's cultural, verdad? You don't wanna be the first one to throw that hand up—it's showing off."

"So, don't the Walther kids need to know that?" Rico asked. "I mean, that's the point, right? For them to find out about other cultures and customs--the teachers, too. They even wanna add a sort of restorative justice thing into it, where the kids actually cop to how little they know."

"The thing Mandela did in South Africa?" Chas said. "That takes highly skilled mediators! My Dad sat in on that for a bit--brutal process. People airing centuries old grievances--if you're on the receiving end of all that rage, well...it can just go very badly, very quickly."

"Gotta give 'em props, though," Leonora said. "They've got this allyship program run by all these Interfaith Council people who've been doing it for a long time. In fact, my pastor runs meetings there sometimes."

Chas sighed and looked at me. "How do you feel?"

To be honest, it was like talking to those Junior League volunteers at the shelters. I knew they meant well...

So I said, "Can we go there? Like...today?"

"They'd be thrilled," Rico crowed. "I'll give 'em a heads up."

"I'd also like to meet with my Valencia kids. To tell them about this...distance learning thing."

Leonora chuckled and gave me a patient pat on the shoulder. "Boy, you are one tenacious soul. The campus is closed, remember? And even if it were open, you're probably not quite as welcome there as you used to be. Given all the bad press they just got..."

I said, "Shit," before I could stop myself.

And Chas smiled, kissed my hand and said, "For now, let's see this perfect school."

"District's picking up the tab for that windshield, too, by the way," Rico told him. "We've got insurance for stuff like that."

"It's...all done, actually," Chas said.

"Yeah, well we'll reimburse you even so. Rules and regs, right?"

Leonora stood--it was time to go. Rico had done his job. And reminded me, yet again, that I was a Devillier now. Someone to be cooed at and handled with care.

As I rose, I said, "So...is Carol really gone, or..."

"Staff development," Rico said. "Directorship, probably."

Chas was totally ready for the "Piers was right" glance I gave him.

And Rico shrugged and said, "Cause if anyone knows how to teach teachers..."

Once we were out in front of district headquarters, Chas looked at Leonora and said, "Expert shit shoveler, that one."

And after we all had a good laugh, she put a hand on his shoulder and said, "It's for the best. It really is. This one'll shine wherever she goes--you know that better than anyone. Go on over there to your cushy new campus and I'll go deal with these parents who think Julio Gutierrez gave their darling daughter an 'F' on an argumentative essay that defended the Confederate Flag."

"I hope he did, actually," Chas grumbled.

But I said, "Don't take the bait."

And she gave a little snort and said, "About all I'm gonna eat today, girl. Way this day's going--talk to you later, kids!"

Watching her trot across the street to the little visitor's lot, Chas shook his head. "Do educators in this country ever get to eat a full meal?"

"Probably shouldn't. Since we don't get to go to the damned bathroom all day either."

He gave me this big old hug and said, "Well, I suppose this Walther Academy will have a formal dining room for teachers. Linen tablecloths, Waterford crystal, Limoge china..."

That didn't sound so farfetched once we turned right at the fancy sign welcoming us to: "Walther Academy, est. 1959."

It was an Old School school. Solid red brick, unlike the chintzy shopping mallish things they build now. In fact, it could've been one of Chas' chi-chi prep schools, sitting there all picture-perfect. Rolling lawn, massive trees and perfectly trimmed flower bushes and hedges.

And in the distance...

"Oh, my God," I said, watching all these kids jumping horses 'way out in a big old field. Seriously. They were wearing those tall black boots and show hats, too.

Chas gave a snarky, "Tally ho," as we got out of the Rover. Shot off a pic to Piers.

And then this tall, willowy, 'way too beautiful blonde girl wearing an embroidered peasant blouse, knee less jeans and Birkies came trotting up. Perky baby boobs just bouncing.

Gave us a chirpy, "Welcome to Walther," like a little flight attendant or something. "I'm Mariah. I'll be showing you around after you've met Tom."

"And Tom is...?" Chas asked.

She giggled and grinned. "Mr. McVeigh, our headmaster! Let's get your lavaliers—right this way!"

And boy as Chas totally hawked that girl gliding along ahead of us with her long, cornsilk hair billowing on the breeze, a little voice in my head murmured, "Strike one..."