The old van wound its way up the mountain road and turned into the patch of dirt that served as a bus stop, skidding to a halt.  A woman in a full length Dalmatian print coat exited from the driver’s side. Two kids scampered across the van’s seats and jumped out behind her.

“Be smart and don’t let the other kid get the first shot in,” she told the eight year old boy and his seven year old sister. They both ran to wait with their friends for the school bus that took them to the international grade school they attended in a nearby city.

“My god Jennifer, how do you get away with it?” asked Cassandra, one of the bus stop mothers, as she unloaded her three kids.
“With what?” inquired Jennifer.

“Give me a break; you’re wearing heels and a Dalmatian coat to drop your kids off,” remarked Cassandra in admiration.

“You know, I’m 45 years old,” replied Jennifer, squinting in the glare of San Miguel’s bright morning sun, looking down on the small Mexican city.” There are ten women to every man in this town. I’m looking for a husband. I have to stand out.”

            *    *     *    *    *

Jennifer had a style that provoked men to great heights of sexual fantasy. Women on the other hand, she just provoked. Once they got to know her, however, they found she was tough and funny. After that they would stop saying she dressed like a cheap slut and start saying she dressed eccentrically. Jennifer, checking that her kids were staying away from the road noticed a father that she had not seen before. He was obviously giving his young son a pep talk to alleviate the boy’s “first day in a new school jitters.”

“So who is the cute new Dad?” asked Jennifer, changing the subject.
“He and his wife and kid came here for a summer vacation and decided they wanted to try and stay on,” answered Cassandra. “He’s a potter.”

“That will bring in the pesos,” said Jennifer without expression.
“Fortunately I hear his wife is a very good dance teacher. I think she teaches yoga too,” said Cassandra.

            *    *     *    *    *

The next morning was the coldest since winter had set in. It was February, mountain desert weather, not the donkey shit, dust, and sweat image many gringos have of Mexico. The nights were cold, predawn mornings even colder, and this morning was one of the coldest she could recall. Jennifer put on leather pants, a sweater, boots and her leather jacket. She didn’t like being cold. She added tough girl dark glasses with round lenses and put on red lipstick. Then she got the kids out of bed, dressed, and fed, and they headed up the winding road to the bus stop.

            *    *     *    *    *

 Peter, now called Pedro at his request, would tell you that his reason for starting a conversation with Jennifer was just an attempt to know the other parents and especially the ones with children his son’s age. Not only would he tell you that, he would believe it was true. Pedro told Jennifer about himself and his family coming to San Miguel and deciding to stay. And thanks to his wife, whose dance and yoga classes were doing well, it looked as though they would be able to remain. He had his pottery in several galleries in town and had sold a few pieces.

Jennifer told him that she was a dress maker and that she had a small workshop. Twice a year she would go to the Mexican beach resorts and sell her dresses to boutiques.

“So, sounds like you and your wife are off to a good start, what’s the problem?”
“Do I look like I have a problem?” asked Pedro.

“Yeah, you’re telling me good things, but your forehead is all wrinkled,” answered Jennifer.
Pedro gave in right away. Like most of us he wanted someone to talk to about his problem and he blurted it all out in one sentence.

“My wife’s family is visiting and will be here over Valentine’s day and I don’t have a peso for a Valentine’s day gift and I’m going to look like a loser to my wife’s parents.”
Pedro paused and took a deep breath, then said, “I’m a good potter.”

“Tell you what Pedro,” Jennifer offered, “I could use a good pot. Why don’t you stop by my workshop and I’ll trade you a couple dresses for a pot. Here’s my card.”

            *    *     *    *    *

Well, things went as they sometimes do in these situations. Hands touched when Pedro handed the pot to Jennifer, hips touched when they sat together to admire Pedro’s creation, Jennifer’s hair brushed his face when she leaned forward to run her hands over the beautifully turned clay vessel, imagining how it was made. There was the trying on of different dresses so that Pedro might see how they would look on his wife. Then they made love.

            *    *     *    *    *

The next day was the school’s Valentine’s Day party. The parents had been invited. Jennifer stood at the snack table helping her children fill their cardboard plates with dip and cookies. She had worn a tight leopard skin dress for the event.

Pedro and his wife stood with another young couple watching her ass as she bent forward to reach a sliver of raw green pepper from the dip plate.

“Jesus, what is she doing in that dress?” whispered Pedro’s wife. “I can’t believe it.”
“She says she’s looking for a husband, that she has to stand out. At least that’s what I hear,” said the second wife.

Jennifer smiled at Pedro, a slight smile. Then, as she crunched the slice of pepper between her white teeth, turning back to the table, she smiled at the second husband.