climax, so now you’re trying to pin all the responsibility on me.”
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Obviously.”
“I’ll have to ponder that.”
“Do. Meanwhile, I’ll say good night.”
Jessie walked him to the door and let him kiss her, wanting very much to tell him the real reason for her unease. But still not knowing Lionel’s true character, she hesitated to introduce Peter as a rival. Her growing feeling for Peter made protecting the gentle teacher an imperative.
“Good night, Lionel,” she said.
“Will we see each other again?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” she replied steadily. This reply was not the one he wanted or expected and his lips compressed into a thin line.
“Okay, fine. Just keep kidding yourself you’re a good girl,” he snapped and strode out into the corridor to punch the elevator button. Jessie closed the door behind him feeling as though she’d behaved as badly as she could have that night, both to Peter and Lionel.
Jessie spent the weekend in torment, not knowing what to tell Peter when he asked her about her date. She still hadn’t decided on a story when rainy Monday morning arrived. Mercifully, lunchroom duty made Jessie unavailable for their usual bench date. However, Peter made a point of stopping by the lunchroom and handing her a little brown bag with a sandwich and cupcake. Jessie almost cried, feeling more guilty than ever. Noticing her stricken look, Peter instantly apprehended much of what had passed between Lionel and Jessie and felt quite awkward as he made a hasty retreat from the lunchroom.
It seemed a perfect eternity to the three o’clock bell and Jessie’s nerves were in tatters by the time it rang. Now there were raincoats to be buttoned and galoshes to pull on, all of which took another ten minutes. Finally she was able to usher the double line of sturdy little six-year-olds into the yard to be claimed by their parents, big brothers and sisters or the school bus. By three-thirty the yard was clear. Jessie unfurled her beige umbrella and began to walk home through the village, picking her way through the puddles in her high heels wrapped in dainty, clear plastic button-up over-boots. On the way she stopped at the tearoom and cheered herself with a pot of tea and a dish of French pastries.
“Hi, Jessie, mind if I join you?”
Jessie looked up at Miss Kranz, who was very chic in a belted, black raincoat and matching cloche over her short-cropped, light red hair.
“Not at all, Lorna,” Jessie declared, welcoming the distraction from her worrying.
“They say it’s going to rain for the next week,” Lorna Kranz informed her fellow instructor.
“M’m,” Jessie wondered if the strict third grade teacher was going to say anything interesting to her. Then, all at once, she did.
“How did you like West Side Story?” Lorna slyly asked.
“Pardon me?”
“I saw you at the performance the other night. With Lionel Albrecht.”
“Oh! Well, it was just wonderful. Wasn’t it?”
“Magnificent.”
“Yes.”
“So, are you seeing Lionel?”
“No. Decidedly not!” Jessie replied vehemently. Then she took a second look at the impeccable twenty-five year-old across the table. “Why? Do you like him?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I never thought of him as being available until I saw him with you.”
“That’s funny. He never thought of me as being available until he saw me with Mr. Johanson. But the truth is, Mr. Johanson is the one I have the crush on.”
“How interesting.”
“Perhaps if Lionel knew that you were interested in him he’d ask you out.”
“But you’re not interested in Lionel yourself?”
“Not really. I like Mr. Johanson,” Jessie said fervently. Lorna actually smiled. As with Lionel, the act seemed both painful and difficult. “You’d be much better suited to Lionel than me,” Jessie suggested.
“Really? Why do you say so?”
“Well, with all due respect, you’re both so strict.”
“Strict?” Lorna didn’t understand.
“With the children.”
“Oh!” the third grade teacher again tried to smile.
“Why are you so strict with the children?”
“Because it’s the only way to make them pay attention. You don’t know that because your little first graders are docile and frightened of their own shadow. But third graders can be extremely rambunctious.”
“I see,” Jessie nodded, wondering if she hadn’t misjudged Miss Kranz.
“As for Lionel, he has to be tough. Remember, he’s dealing with boys as old as old as ten and eleven. Would you rather they ran wild and turned into delinquents?”
“No,” said Jessie meekly.
“Discipline is crucial to education.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“So you really think that Lionel and I would be compatible?”
“Oh, I’m convinced of it. Now that I think of it, I’m sure I’ve seen him covertly admire your beautiful figure before.”
“You’re sweet,” said Lorna, putting some change down on the table for a tip. “I’ve got to run, honey. But thanks for the chat.”
“It’s all confidential, though,” Jessie warned.
“I understand,” Lorna actually gave her a wink as she breezed out of the tearoom and into the rain swept street.
Now Jessie was able to continue home with a spring in her step. Lorna Kranz liked Lionel Albrecht. She now knew he was available. She was not the type of woman the average mere male (which Lionel certainly was) could resist. Not with legs and a waist like that and a closet full of designer copies. News like this might possibly mitigate Peter’s disappointment at her behavior once she made her awful confession to him.
Generally Jessie did her errands and chores between four and six, dined simply and worked on her lesson plan for the following day directly after dinner. But today she was so distracted she knew if she didn’t do her lesson plan first, it might never get done. So the moment she got home, she made herself a pot of coffee and arranged her textbooks upon her kitchen table. By five thirty she had finished her work and leaned back in her chair to enjoy a cigarette. Then she reached for the phone and dialed Peter’s number.
“Hello?” he answered on the first
