Mal presses, “I don’t understand. We were supposed to do the bake sale here today.”
The man shrugs. “I dunno what to tell ya.”
Mal and I walk back outside to regroup, where Headmistress Moody walks up like a specter in her plaid woolen skirt and dark sweater to greet us. “I don’t know what’s going on. I’m so sorry. I could have sworn my record book said this was scheduled to begin this weekend. We’ll have to begin feeding the students in their classrooms two days earlier than planned. This is totally inexcusable and I’m so sorry.”
But now is not the time to renegotiate a venue, because Moody has bigger fish to fry and walks off to find the foreman.
I watch her go and try to think about what to do next.
But Mal is already taking action. She’s moved the van to a safer spot in the parking lot. When I catch up with her, I see her standing there with the delivery van doors open, and she’s scrounged up plates and forks and napkins. I cannot believe my eyes, but she’s cutting up into pieces a beautifully iced cake and portioning it onto the plates.
“Here,” she says, handing me a tray.
“What are we doing?”
“We’re going to feed the work crew,” she says.
We end up bringing six or seven trays of goodies to the job site, and all of it gets eaten. In the resulting tips, we’ve made about $75.
Back at the van, I watch Mal doing the math in her head. Something is definitely brewing in my girl’s mind, and I have to admit, it’s quite a turn-on.
“What are you thinking, babe?”
I love how one sweet term of endearment turns her cheeks pink. She grins.
“I’m going to get you your money. It won’t happen all in one day but the dining hall being closed might just work in our favor. I might need special permission from the school board, but I already have a commercial license...”
I stay quiet while I watch the wheels turn.
And then, we hear another voice. A woman’s voice, dismissive and haughty.
“A bake sale. Again. It’s so cute that you just keep plugging away.”
We both turn and see Meredith slinking over, locking up her Jag with her key fob while not taking her eyes off us.
“What are you doing here?” Mal asks.
“Me? I thought I’d come by and help spread the word that the bake sale is canceled. I heard about the little mix-up.”
I draw myself up and puff out my chest. It’s dumb, but it’s an automatic response to a perceived threat. “It’s not canceled,” I say.
Meredith’s heavily made-up eyes roam over my chest and shoulders, and she’s not even subtle about it. She speaks without making eye contact, like she’s speaking to a hunk of meat. “I know you’ve…for some reason…become ensnared by this woman’s baking skills or whatever. But honestly, she can’t be trusted. I made sure everyone at Poppy’s birthday party knew that the first baker I hired to make my daughter’s cake had totally flaked at the last minute. I would be careful if I were you.”
I am dumbfounded. Mal pivots around to face Meredith, understanding and hurt all over her face. “It’s you. You’re the reason I had all those cancellations.”
Meredith ignores her and continues to eye me like she plans on eating me for dessert. "There are other ways to make money.” She steps closer to me and her flowery perfume sits unpleasantly in my nostrils. What is she getting at? “If you need money for your little trip, all you have to do is ask nicely. All of us PTA officers have ways of getting things done, if you get to know us on a more…individual basis. We’re not that scary, I promise.”
I’m so confused, and Mal is doing her best to stay calm. “I kind of already tried the PTA and that’s how we got into this bake sale in the first place,” I point out. Seems obvious to me.
The truth is, I knew what she meant. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let her have the satisfaction of knowing she shocked me or interested me in the least bit with her strange come-ons.
“Yes. A bake sale. It’s so quaint. So last century,” Meredith simpers. “But then, everyone’s addicted to sugar, aren’t they? I wouldn’t expect any other ideas but that from a fat person.”
I freeze. Did I just hear that correctly? Judging by the proud look on Meredith’s face yes, I did.
Looking over at Mal, she’s resolutely ignoring the whole commentary with her face aimed squarely at her clipboard.
I don't know what’s about to happen between me and the PTA, but I am not about to care. The rage has topped out.