Of course she was curious, particularly since it was on her route every day. That old Cleveland private school which had just reopened after being closed for so long was now filled up with young women bustling around the place, dashing in and out through every door seen from the street, talking and arguing and laughing and basically experiencing their just-beginning lives as actual adults.
Just like old times, in fact.
Finally, she couldn't help it. Parking the Meals on Wheels van by the school, she brought along the spare lasagna pan filled to its brim with yummy home-style Italian food as a handy excuse for dropping in today. Not that she felt any great need for showing up there with an actual reason for her visit.
After all, well-past-mature ladies were more than entitled and expected to snoop around.
Ringing the doorbell had this opened quickly by a harassed-appearing blonde many decades younger who stared in evident confusion at a complete stranger on the threshold smiling and holding out an...absolutely delicious-smelling gift.
Inhaling with growing bliss the saliva-producing aromas drifting her way, Buffy Summers was abruptly interrupted in this by a panicked yell coming from further inside the school.
Groaning out loud "Now what?!", Buffy spun around to behold Andrew sprinting from the school kitchen and then down the corridor while carrying along a smoldering saucepan in his extended arms. A thick trail of smoke followed after Andrew's latest culinary disaster, with this fumbling cook heading at top speed outside to the rear lawn before the saucepan completely ignited and set off the ceiling sprinklers.
Facepalming herself, Buffy was once more interrupted by two girls of high school age confronting each other on the main staircase, shouting in each others' faces about a certain sweater that someone borrowed without permission and then had it stained with Fyarl mucus last night on patrol!
This noisy confrontation quickly changed into actual violence with punches and kicks traded among the female pair, soon changing into a martial arts match with unbelievable moves that only special effects could properly show in the latest John Woo action flick.
Bouncing all over the staircase to culminate in a mutual cartwheel down the treads while pulling each others' hair, the girls had their fight cut short by Buffy stepping into the middle of this combat. Grabbing both of those little idiots by their necks to yank them apart and then easily hold the disruptive pair entirely off the floor, Buffy was about to forcefully give a piece of her mind to—
RRRRRROOOOAAAARRRRR!
All three of the Slayers with their sensitive ears winced at the sudden noise of the power saw working away at full throttle coming from the second floor.
Buffy bellowed up towards there, "XANDER! KNOCK IT OFF!"
RRRRRROOOOaaaaarrrr…
The electrical hand tool volume trailed away to a vastly-appreciated quietude, accompanied by an indignant Xander in his safety goggles and sawdust-covered overalls stepping into sight on the second floor landing.
Tenderly cradling his brought-along power saw like it was a cherished portion of his anatomy, Xander balefully shouted down at somebody who had no idea whatsoever about home repairs, "You want me to fix what Cheryl and Monica broke yesterday, give me a chance! I've got my hands full already with more stuff like that!"
Glaring back at her Sunnydale friend in turn, Buffy responded, "At least say you called up the newspaper to put an ad in there for a house mother as fast as possible! We can't go on like this any more— What?!"
She finished with snarling that last word at where Xander was making as unobtrusively as he could a weird pointing motion with the power saw at something behind Buffy.
Turning around while still dangling her captives with apparently no trouble at all, Buffy blinked at who she'd completely forgotten about. That is, the little old lady still on the threshold and watching with truly fascinated interest how someone six inches shorter than the other girls was continuing to show off definitely superhuman strength.
Buffy's fingers automatically loosened their grip, allowing two sheepish probationary Slayers to land on their feet and then nonchalantly slink off despite Buffy's fiercest glower sent their way, silently promising them this wouldn't be forgotten. A polite cough from the LOL brought Buffy's attention back to their expectant visitor.
"Er…," Buffy desperately tried to come up with a satisfactory cover story on the spur of the moment to explain the last couple of minutes.
Her futile attempt in this was cut short by the LOL asking from out of nowhere, "Are you honestly looking for a house mother?"
"Huh?" A baffled Buffy recovered to answer, "Yeah, we really need somebody in charge of the school and all the girls, but we're way too busy with our own jobs to tackle it properly."
The Slayer eyed the LOL with growing hope. "Why? Do you know someone that won't be fazed by, um, a lot of thoroughly peculiar parts of the job?"
This resulted in a delighted laugh from the older female, "Oh, my good heavens, yes! I have to confess that it's been getting a little boring, doing the Meals on Wheels detail. I'll give you my references, even though the last time I worked as a house mother was quite a long time ago. If you're satisfied by these, I can start here whenever you like."
"Hire her! Right now!" Xander called down fervently from where he'd been listening the whole time on the second floor.
Twisting her neck to peer up at him, Buffy wanted to know, "Why're you so eager about it, Xan?"
Making a show of sniffing the air, Xander replied, "Are you kidding? I can smell that fantastic lasagna all the way up here! If she cooked it, signing her up today means Andrew won't make what he promised, a Klingon-style dinner with fresh gagh worms!"
Shaking her head with utter incomprehension, Buffy turned back to where a very amused little old lady was waiting.
"Sounds like you're an absolute shoo-in for the job, Ms..?"
"Edna Garrett. Call me Mrs. Garrett."
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and The Facts of Life characters are the property of their rightful owners.
Author's Note: Dedicated to Charlotte Rae (April 22, 1926 – August 5, 2018).