A week later, I invited Veronica over for tea. She walked in as though nothing had happened, her heels clicking on my linoleum floor.
“Ruth, it’s so nice to see you,” she said cheerfully. “I hope you enjoyed our dinner.”
I gave her a sweet smile. “Oh, I did. In fact, I’ve got a little something for you to show my appreciation.”
I handed her an envelope. With perfect nails, she tore it open.
As she read, her expression shifted from smugness to shock to pale disbelief.
“You — you’re suing me?” she stammered, her composure cracking.
“Unless you agree to my terms,” I replied calmly, adopting my most stern teacher tone.
She glared at me, lips pressed tightly. “What terms?”
“First, you publicly apologize for your actions. Second, you reimburse me for the bill and any legal fees. And third, you start treating me with respect.”
Veronica looked as if she’d just bitten into a lemon. “You can’t be serious. Do you know what this could do to my reputation?”
“Try me,” I said, my voice steely. “I might be retired, but I still know how to handle troublemakers.”
She stared at me for a long moment, then slumped. “Fine. I’ll do it. But this stays between us, understood?”
I extended my hand. “Shake on it?”
Her grip was limp and clammy as we shook hands. As we did, I wondered if I had overstepped. Would this backfire badly?
The following day, Veronica’s social media exploded with her public apology. And my bank account was suddenly $5,500 richer. But the best part hadn’t even happened yet.
Carla’s team descended on Veronica’s mansion like a swarm of cleaning bees. They scrubbed every surface, tidied every drawer, and left no corner untouched.
And in the master bedroom, they left a beautifully wrapped gift.
Inside, there was a list — every snide comment, every eye roll, every backhanded compliment Veronica had ever thrown my way. And a note that read: “A clean slate for a fresh start. Let’s treat each other better from now on.”
I was sipping tea when my phone rang. It was Veronica. My heart skipped a beat as I answered.
“Ruth,” she said, her voice thick. “I — I don’t know what to say.”
“How about ‘I’m sorry’?” I suggested, keeping my tone light.
There was a long pause. Then, to my surprise, I heard a chuckle.
“You really got me, didn’t you?” she said. “I never thought you had it in you.”
“Just a little reminder about respect,” I replied. “And never underestimate a retired teacher.”
“I deserved it,” she admitted. “Can we — can we start over?”
I smiled, feeling a weight lift from my chest. “I’d like that, Veronica.”
From then on, things changed. Veronica started calling more often, asking for advice, even inviting me out for casual dinners — and she actually paid for them.
Last week, she asked for my help planning Michael’s surprise birthday party.
“I need your expertise,” she said. “You know him best, after all.”
As we sat at her kitchen table, going over the party details, I couldn’t help but marvel at how far we’d come.
“You know,” Veronica said suddenly, “I never properly thanked you.”
I looked up, surprised. “For what?”
“For teaching me a lesson I’ll never forget,” she said, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “You’re tougher than you look, Ruth.”
I laughed. “Well, I did handle middle schoolers for four decades.”
She grinned. “Remind me never to cross you again. I still can’t believe you pulled all that off.”
“Let’s just say I’ve had some practice dealing with troublemakers,” I winked.
As we returned to our planning, I felt a warmth spread through me. Sometimes, a little tough love is exactly what’s needed to set things right.
And who knows? Maybe one day I’ll tell Michael about our little adventure. But for now, it’s our secret — a reminder that respect isn’t given, it’s earned.
Even if you have to teach that lesson the hard way. I may have left the classroom, but I’m not done teaching just yet.