Her name was Maggie, and I hated her.Actually, her real first name was something else. Her parents were Polish but even they used her nickname instead...She had been my math teacher for three years, starting when I was 15, until I was finally free from her forever - or so I'd thought.Those three grades had been absolute hell. Maggie was mean to any student she disliked, including me. To be honest, I still don't know why I'd been singled out. I'd never sad anything odd to her, and I hadn't stood. With a polite smile and half-hearted thanks (for giving me some more paperwork) I made a mental note to follow up and find a more personal and fun way to thank her somehow.When I entered the suite I saw a bottle of champagne and two glasses on the dining table and a basket of fruit with a note attached. I set down my luggage and read the hand-written note, "I hope you enjoy your stay, and if there's anything more that you want or need to make your stay completely satisfying, please don't. More

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