Devonne Brown

Margaret took off her gardening gloves and surveyed her garden. The flowers were perfect. Never had her blooms been bigger or brighter than they were this summer. She took out her phone to take a picture. The blues, oranges, and reds were just phenomenal. She picked a blue one and took it into the house with her. She’d make a special arrangement with it.

She had one month left before school started and she dreaded it with all her heart. The new principal, Mr. McPhail, had a reputation for being a nit picking tight ass, Something she wasn’t used to, and didn’t look forward to dealing with. Margaret had grown comfortable under the rule of Candace who was fair and relaxed. Everything ran smoothly, nobody got excited, all the work got done, and nobody breathed down anyone’s neck. Mr. McPhail was said to breathe fire. 

This just wouldn’t do.

He was coming to her house this afternoon for lunch. He made it a point to visit all the returning teachers, he said over the phone. He was looking forward to meeting her. She invited him to lunch. She looked at the blue flower in the vase. Its infusion was just about ready.

Margaret made sandwiches and salads from vegetables and flowers from her garden. BLT’s on big crusty bread with home grown tomatoes, and a salad filled with nuts, melon, lettuce, and edible flower petals that tasted like watermelon, pepper, and lemons. She made him a special drink from the blue flower stem, it would be sweet and spicy. He’d relax and have a vision. All of his ideas would be lovely today. 

Margaret met Mr. McPhail at the door and led him to the back patio where lunch awaited. With its umbrella and linen table settings, he was transported to a Parisian street scene surrounded by blooming baskets. 

“Do sit,” said Margaret, and she offered him a deeply cushioned chair at the elegant table.

“Do you treat all your guests like this?” Mr. McPhail asked. He was quite caught off guard with the splendid display.

Margaret laughed, and said, “Only the special ones, and you sir are definitely special. She poured him a glass of glistening tea with blue flowers floating around in it.” 

“I hope you don’t expect special treatment from me because of all this, Margaret,” he said.

“Of course I do. Why would I go to all this trouble to be treated poorly? The least you could do is be civil at lunch. That’s special enough, don’t you think?” said Margaret. She smiled over the rim of her glass. She had blue flowers floating in her glass too. 

She served him the floral salad and the BLT. He ate the flowers first. He began to talk of all his ideas. Of how he envisioned the school to run. Then he began to giggle at his words. He was blushing, like he felt embarrassed. He ate his BLT with gusto, and drank more tea.

“Do you think I’m being civil, Margaret? Are my manners good enough?” Mr. McPhail asked as if he were a child. 

“I’m much older than you, John, why does it matter what I think?” asked Margaret.

“I want you to like me. I want us to be good friends,” said Mr. McPhail.

“John, you have good manners. If you used them at school and don’t get too big for your britches, I think we’ll get along fine. What do you think?” asked Margaret. 

“Yes, ma’am.” said John. The tea had worked just fine.