The inside was clean and tidy, and she caught a whiff of masculine scent that made her insides shiver. Luckily it was dark, so no one would see her face turn stop-sign red. She was about to apologize yet again when she caught herself with the realization that she was trying to ward off a Bill-sized temper tantrum about how all this was her fault, and did she know how much billable time she was wasting. Alejo was simply smiling.
“Okay, who’s going to be navigator?” Alejo said.
Wendy hastened to offer the simple directions to the school, and Alejo pulled down Godiva’s long driveway. She clutched the armrest as a habit. Bill had always insisted on driving when they went anywhere, though he was invariably furious at traffic lights, and other cars. He’d jerk and stop and race, terrifying Wendy when they approached lights lest it turn red. Invariably he’d roar through the very end of yellow lights, as if punishing them for daring to inconvenience him.
In contrast, Alejo drove at the speed limit, and when a car full of teenagers veered in front of them without signaling, he just braked a little. No cursing or yelling or tailgating to “teach them a lesson.” Twice the light ahead turned yellow. He came to a stop.
Gradually her heartbeat slowed down, and suddenly they were at the school. “Thank you, so very, very much,” Wendy said the moment he parked. “Again, I apologize. We’ll find a ride back. Come on, Sam, let’s not keep Mr. Tzama waiting.”
Sam was already half out the door, waiting to take his costume. Wendy thanked Alejo one last time as she grabbed Flossie and hurried out of his car.
Alejo’s voice reached them. “Is it all right if I stay?”
Wendy started, and turned around. Alejo stood by his car door, and indicated a couple of kids coming out of a car a few spaces away. “Looks like something fun is about to happen.”
Wendy opened her mouth to deny it, but looked at Sam, and of course she couldn’t tell him that it was more likely that he’d be bored stiff. “Well, if you don’t mind a lot of poems about animals,” she said in her sparkle voice.
“Animals are my favorite people,” Alejo said.
And Sam smiled. It was a quick, tentative little smile, but it was an absolute first; Wendy could not remember him ever smiling around a new adult, ever.
Alejo fell in step on Sam’s other side. “What animal is Sam going to be? No, on second thought, don’t tell me. It’ll be fun to guess,” Alejo said easily.
As they joined the other parents heading for the classroom, Wendy saw Sam glance at the other kids, then up at her and at Alejo, and another tiny flicker of a smile warmed his face, and he actually gave a tiny hop. That couldn’t possibly be because of Alejo being there?
But she began to suspect that it was. She hadn’t told Godiva’s houseguests about the event because she knew they would feel obliged to attend. They had shown up for the previous Open House and the holiday assembly in silent support because Bill, of course, never attended these things.
Sam looked up at Alejo once or twice, until they reached the classroom. Ms. Nelson separated the kids to one side and sent the parents to the rows of chairs on the other. “Oh, there you are, Ms. Poulet,” she said, her relief evident. “I’m very glad you are here!”
Sam vanished among the children. Wendy was sent to the teachers’ lounge across the hall. She lost sight of Alejo, who went along with the parents. The last thing Wendy heard was his voice—his lovely, deep voice that somehow had a smile in it—“I’m a guest of Sam and his mom.”
“You are most welcome…”
Their voices were lost in the hubbub.
Wendy found the teachers’ restroom, and set the bag down. It hadn’t occurred to her until then that Alejo Tzama was going to get another eyeful of Flossie, the pregnant chicken. Well, it couldn’t be helped, Wendy told herself.
She slipped out of her kaftan. Underneath she had put on tights and a yoga shirt, which made Flossie easier to get into. Flippers, gloves, and chicken head—and here was Ms. Nelson.
“Oh, you look darling,” she said breathlessly. “Here is your basket, with the list pinned at the bottom so you can easily see it. Just go down the list of names, tell each child how wonderful they are after they finish, guide them off if they need it, and it’ll be perfect.”
“Do I come now?” Wendy asked.
“Just wait here. When you hear the last ‘Ee-yi-ee-yi-ohhh’ of ‘Old Macdonald Had A Farm,’ that’s when you make your entrance. And thank you again! You are a real trooper!”
Ms. Nelson was gone.
Wendy leaned in the doorway, gazing across at the lit classroom. The children had been crammed behind a rolling whiteboard. She thought she caught sight of Sam’s cardboard squirrel head, but couldn’t be certain. Her eyes roamed the rows of parents—and caught on Alejo Tzama, midway along the last row. She couldn’t believe he was there. And smiling as though he actually wanted to be stuck on hard, too-small chairs among strangers to watch a bunch of kids he didn’t know. He looked incredibly hot even sitting there with a bunch of fourth grade parents. Wendy noted more than one mom twirling locks of hair as they gave him a heavy dose of side-eye.
Was Sam watching Alejo? She couldn’t tell. One of the hair-twirling moms leaned across a couple in order to address him. He answered with his polite smile, but it wasn’t that warm smile Wendy’d seen when he looked at her. She was not imagining that, was she?
She dragged her eyes away from his handsome profile lest he somehow catch her perving on him through the window, and peered down into the ribbon-tied flat basket. True to her word, Ms. Nelson had printed each child’s name, and their animal, in big block letters below a few words of introduction.
Treble voices rose in the old song. Wendy moved out to be ready for her cue. She caught sight of herself reflected in the teachers’ lounge mirror, and had to laugh at how ridiculous Flossie looked. Ah well, no one knew who was inside her. Read the names, leave. Done.
“…eee-eye-eee-eye-oh-h-h-h-h…” The last note dragged out.
“That’s my cue,” Wendy murmured, popping in the classroom door.
