by Kate Jacobs
“You need a schedule, Darwin Leung,” said Mrs. Leung, knowing full well that Darwin had not changed her surname when she married Dan. “Right from the outset, you must let the children know who’s the boss. They’re hungry? Well, they can just wait until feeding time.”
“That’s a theory,” said Darwin, whose boobs leaked at every sniffle. She had no objections to emptying things out. “But it’s not what we’re doing.”
“You’re going to find that a lot of your own little theories aren’t much use on real kids,” said Mrs. Leung. “That’s what you get for reading all those parenting books: a whole lot of imagination. Tried and true is what works best. Parenting is not about innovation.”
“Maybe,” said Darwin. “But that’s the thing about having your own kids. You get to experiment on their psyche just as much as your own parents did to you.”
However, the arrival of her mother-in-law had been a bigger help than anticipated: Mrs. Leung annoyed Darwin so frequently that she often bundled up the twins—even in summer they needed layer after layer, to put on and take off per their internal thermostat—and took them on meandering walks throughout the city. Thanks, Mrs. Leung, she said in her mind. I’m getting healthier and seeing New York with new eyes.
The worry list remained tucked into her pocket, but she consulted it far less often as the summer drew to a close.
“I’m not such a newbie anymore,” she told Dan. “I’m becoming a mom who knows what she’s doing. Well, sort of. I’m building my own template for what kind of mother—and professor—I want to be.”
She wasn’t the only woman with the feeling that her style of mothering made sense. Dan’s mother came from the my-way-or-the-highway school of thought, and busied herself redoing anything and everything Darwin’s mom had touched: and so once again, the kitchen was scrubbed down, the secondhand coffee table polished, and the cupboards rearranged.
“You really should fold your towels in thirds,” said Mrs. Leung. Darwin had strenuously avoided getting to know her mother-in-law for all the years of her marriage. Oh, sometimes she went with Dan when he visited, but mainly she stayed put or went back to Seattle to see her sister. And now, she realized with surprise, she’d be going happily to see her mother, as well.
Darwin’s mother Betty had been a dynamo for the month she slept on the sofa bed, complaining, of course, but not for one second letting anyone put her in a hotel away from those grandchildren of hers. She had done anything and everything, even going so far as to buy a tiny chest freezer and plug it into the corner of the living room and then cooking endless dinner options. Darwin even caught her, late at night, reading the manuscript pages of the new book Darwin was writing. She wasn’t going to finish it as quickly as her colleague on paternity leave, but she wasn’t about to fall behind, either.
Darwin was fascinated by the return of the extended family and the potential impact of the aging baby boomer generation on women and their career opportunities. The idea was twigged by the changes in her own life, of course, becoming a mom and having to live the juggle. But so many people were—either by choice or by necessity—living with elderly relatives again. Was it a sign of a greater shift away from the nuclear family? Would it hamper all the strides women had made in the last forty years? How are we to take all our experiences, thought Darwin, and build a paradigm that works? And how does one’s place within a family constrain or embolden them?
Darwin thought of the club: they were a family, too. A family of choice. And she, for one, missed her regular Friday night meetings, which had been put on hiatus through the summer. It had seemed like so much effort to get together for just KC and Peri and herself. But that, she realized now, had been a wrong attitude. The club wasn’t only the club if they were all in the same room. They probably weren’t always going to all be in the same city, she considered, especially now that Lucie’s career seemed to be taking off. It was more than conceivable that someone would move away at some point—maybe even she and Dan, relocating to a small college town and riding their bicycles to work. And the club, she realized now, was not about the shop. It never had been. That was just the starting point.
And that’s why Darwin decided it was the right moment to host a Friday Night Knitting Club meeting of her own. Dan agreed to take his mother out of the house—it was a protracted negotiation, since she insisted she had not come to New York City to have fun—and then Darwin would have the apartment for herself and her friends, assuming the babies stayed asleep.
She’d never had a dinner party before tonight. Never. Not once. Darwin was stoked.
Mushroom risotto, penne primavera, and caprese salad: Darwin ordered in a delicious three-course dinner from the Italian restaurant two blocks from her apartment. Just because half the club was lucky enough to go to the real deal didn’t mean the other members had to miss out on a taste of Italy, right?
“Ladies!” cried KC as she arrived at Darwin’s apartment. Peri was already there, nibbling on a plate of olives, cheese, and bread that Darwin had put out for appetizers. “I brought the wine,” said KC. “None for you, I know—the whole breastfeeding thing.”
“But I’ll have,” said Peri. “The beauty of living in the city is that the subway takes me home.” She popped a pitted olive in her mouth while simultaneously raising her right hand, as though asking the teacher to call on her.
“Yes, Ms. Gayle?” said KC. “Do you have some news to report?”
“Yeah,” said Peri, chewing and swallowing quickly. “You’ll never believe what happened this week. Catherine called me and, honestly, what she said made my jaw hit the floor.”
“She’s joining a convent?” said KC. “I worried she’d take things just that smidge too far. She always does.”
“No, I’m serious,” said Peri. “She asked me to go up to her store and get the two gowns Georgia knitted for her and FedEx them to the V in Rome.”
“Okay, that’s weird,” said Darwin. “She’s practically built a shrine to the one dress up at her store. Now she can’t be without it for a summer?”
“Maybe she just wants to wear them, I guess,” said KC. “Sometimes people form dependencies, you know?”
“We know,” said Darwin. “Just remember this is a no-smoking household.”
“No, no, you guys, that’s not it,” said Peri. “She’s going to loan the gowns to that pop star Lucie’s working with.”
“You’re sure you didn’t dream this?” asked KC. “I once asked her if I could try on the gold dress—with a push-up bra, of course, I’m not deluded—and she told me that ‘the Phoenix does not leave its home, KC.’”
“Well, the Phoenix is flying right now, folks,” said Peri. “All the way to Roma.”
“Why did she ask you to get it ready? She has a manager for her store,” said Darwin. “A lot is expected of you, Peri, and sometimes I wonder if you’re not asserting yourself enough. It’s very crucial for women to learn to say no.”
Darwin left her with that thought as she ducked into the kitchen to get the salad, drizzled it with a little olive oil, and invited everyone to move to the table.
“I’ve felt that same way sometimes,” said Peri. “Worried I’m under-appreciated. But I understood Catherine didn’t feel she could trust someone outside the club to handle that dress. And, frankly, I loved Georgia, too: she gave me a job, the chance to pursue my handbag business, and a piece of her own store. When Catherine said the dresses needed to go, I wasn’t about to let just anyone touch them. They’re true couture.”
“So an Italian pop star is going to wear Georgia’s dress,” said KC. “That’s good. Georgia would have found that very amusing, I think.”
“Are you kidding?” said Peri. “She would have laughed all the way to the bank. That woman was not afraid to demand what her work was worth.”
“Yeah,” said Darwin. “She was no shrinking violet.”
“Actually, Isabella in that gown is great exposure,” said Peri. “Just what a designer needs. That
’s what hit me: An errand for a friend—even an annoying one—could be the seed of an opportunity.”
“To do what? Make more of Georgia’s dresses?” asked Darwin.
“Maybe, “said Peri. “But I figured why not toot my own horn.”
“Women rarely do enough of that,” seconded Darwin. “So how?”
“I sent my entire collection to Isabella, with my compliments and on Catherine’s tab for the shipping. One of each backpack, laptop case, hobo bag, evening purse, tote . . .” Peri reeled off the list of styles and colors.
“That is a fortune’s worth of stuff,” said KC. “Are you sure you can afford to give away all that inventory? Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because sometimes a businesswoman needs to rely on her best friends to be advisers,” said Peri. “And sometimes she needs to figure things out for herself.”
“That’s true,” said Darwin. “Sometimes your gut just knows.” She was very delighted by this club meeting: they were just starting the pasta and already the discussion had been some of the best she thought the club had ever had.
“For so long, I’ve just felt as though I’ve been stuck at Walker and Daughter,” confessed Peri, accepting a second glass of wine. “But I was looking at my bags as I was packaging them up and I realized they are so much better and bolder than when I started.”
“Your bags have always been gorgeous,” said Darwin. “I love my diaper bag. Each of the five times I’ve left the house since the kids were born, I’ve gotten raves from strangers. I always tell them about you.”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Peri. “A few years ago I never thought about branching into diaper bags. But now I am, and part of the reason is because I’m older. More experienced.”
KC nodded thoughtfully as she filled her plate with a helping of risotto. “It gets easier to think long-term,” she agreed. “That’s why I’m quitting smoking.”
“Did the patch from Dan help?” asked Darwin.
“Hey,” said KC. “Whatever happened to medical secrets? I was going to pretend I could do it on my own.”
“Sorry,” said Darwin.
“I wouldn’t have believed it otherwise,” said Peri.
“Well, I know something else you wouldn’t believe,” said KC. “So let’s go get the little monsters. I made a gift.”
“You mean you bought a gift,” corrected Peri.
“Nope,” said KC, as she whipped out a mobile with knitted triangles and circles and squares—some striped, some solid—hanging down.
“That’s adorable!” said Darwin.
“Who made that for you?” asked Peri.
“I just told you, I made it on my own,” grumbled KC. “Look, I’ll even show you where I screwed up.” She pointed out several holes until she’d satisfied Peri.
“But where did you get the yarn?” asked Peri, and KC squirmed.
“No wonder sales are sluggish,” Peri said to Darwin. “My own friends don’t shop in my store.”
“Well, I doubt you were holding your breath for KC and I to keep the shop afloat,” said Darwin. “It’s taken us all these years to finally get any good.”
“Pretty great, you mean,” said KC. “I’m genuinely amazed by myself.”
“Me, too,” said Peri. “But if I ever see either of you with someone else’s yarn, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“Speaking of hell to pay,” said KC, “I’m kinda peeved that half of the gang all went on some group adventure. Next time we should all take a trip together.”
“We could go somewhere exotic,” said Peri.
“Like Staten Island,” said KC, a diehard Manhattanite.
“Or Seneca Falls, where Cady and Stanton could see where their namesake signed the Declaration of Sentiments,” said Darwin.
“Or maybe just someplace with a beach,” said Peri. “That might appeal to everyone.”
“Let’s suggest it,” said KC. “Part of the problem this summer is that Lucie got a darn job and suddenly all the self-employed folks tagged along. I mean, sure, I went to Europe after Barnard. But now I live in the real world. And the rest of us working schlubs have to put in requests for vacation with a lot of lead time.”
“Yeah, let’s talk about it when we have our post-walk snacks at the shop,” said Darwin, who loved the idea of women coming together to save their sisters. That, too, might make a great research project. Walking to save each other. So simple and yet so effective, both at raising money and at feeling useful.
“I’m so going to turn in the most Georgia afghans and win the Walker and Daughter Golden Needles this year,” she continued. “Anita’s days as the reigning charity champion are numbered.”
“Let’s call and tell her that, too,” said KC. “Now works for me.”
“You mean now now?” asked Peri. “It’s not yet dawn.”
“Hey now, I didn’t even have a drink tonight,” said Darwin. “I’m not about to drunk-dial Italy.”
“You two are way too serious,” said KC. “We’ll call and have an impromptu club meeting, pretend we can’t do the time difference.” She was punching in numbers before anyone could stop her. “You have that Internet phone thing, don’t you, Darwin?”
“Yes, but it’s still late, even if the call’s almost free.”
“True enough,” KC replied, undeterred from her plan. “I’ll call Catherine, and then I’m going to conference in Lucie. Okay, it’s ringing. Go grab the other phone, you guys, or put it on speaker.”
“No speaker,” said Darwin. “Think babies. Sleeping babies!”
“Hello?” Catherine’s voice was sleepy.
“KC here!” shouted the ringleader.
“Do you know what hour it is? I just went to bed after a night at the opera with Marco and—” started Catherine, before being cut off mid-sentence.
“Hold the line, please,” said KC in her best operator voice, then punched in the number Darwin reluctantly gave her for Lucie.
“Isabella, it’s the middle of the night!” moaned the voice that answered. “Can’t we get what you need tomorrow?”
“Surprise!” yelled KC. Peri and Darwin exchanged a glance, both feeling terrible for waking everyone up. No doubt Ginger would be protesting soon.
“Uh, who is this?” said Lucie, before answering her own question. “KC? Is that you?”
“Damn straight it is,” said KC. “And I’m calling because I’ve come up with a plan.”
“By the way, you forgot to punch Catherine back in,” whispered Peri as she stood in Darwin’s living room.
“Oh, yeah,” said KC, pressing a button and getting everyone on one line. “So what do you think about us taking a group vacation next year?”
“With you?” asked Lucie. “Or from you? I’m exhausted here.”
“Sorry, Luce,” said Darwin. “KC is a force unto herself.”
“What? You’re here, too?”
“Surprise! It’s a club meeting, brought to you by technology,” said KC. “Now, who knows Anita’s room number?”
“No!” said Peri, Lucie, Catherine, and Darwin in unison. Unlike the rest of them, only Catherine knew that although Anita put up a brave front, she was still coming to terms with finally letting go of Sarah. Even though she was probably awake with insomnia and working on her wedding coat, the last thing she needed was to be disturbed, thought Catherine.
“Well, what about Dakota, then?” said KC.
“You’re not waking her up, either,” said Lucie. “Though it sounds like I’m too late. I hear her stumbling out in the living room.” Muttering and complaining, Lucie slid into a robe and opened her bedroom door to let Dakota know she’d picked up the room phone. Hoping to press her luck and still not disturb Ginger, she didn’t turn on the light.
“Oh my God,” she screamed into the phone.
“What?” yelled four voices in reply. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“There’s a man in my living room,” she shrieked.
“Sh
it! Now what?”
In an instant, Lucie recognized the voice. She’d been hearing it often throughout the summer.
It was Roberto.
thirty
Was she or wasn’t she? That was the question on everyone’s mind. The phone call had been hastily ended, much to the chagrin of KC, who really, really wanted to stay on for the duration.
But no answer appeared to be forthcoming, and for that, Catherine had to admire Dakota. She’d rushed down from her room in her nightie and the pair of heels she’d worn to the opera, not even taking time to grab a robe. She wasn’t sure, even as she hurried, if she was heading over to berate or to protect Dakota. All she knew was that Georgia would expect her to take care of things.
When Catherine arrived at Lucie’s suite mere minutes later, Dakota was on the sofa with Roberto, and Lucie was pacing the room. She was obviously freaked out.
“What would your father think?” said Lucie. “He’s just down the hall. And it was such a challenge to get him to agree to you being here.”
“That’s my problem,” said Dakota matter-of-factly. “You are not responsible for what I do during my time off. If I went out and robbed a bank, no one would arrest you. Because it’s about me. And so is this.”
Dakota apologized for scaring Lucie. She said she understood it wasn’t appropriate to have Roberto over without permission because she was, technically, working for Lucie and the room was not her own.
“But as for any other details, I’ll be honest enough to tell both of you,” said Dakota. “It’s not any of your business and I won’t get into it.”
The conversation went around in circles until the sun came up, but Dakota remained absolute in her unwillingness to spill.
“You’re overstepping,” Dakota said to Lucie and Catherine after hours of back-and-forth. Her voice wasn’t sharp or sarcastic, but level and self-assured. “I’m really not the club mascot,” she said. “My life isn’t a group project. And this subject is closed.”
