“Brooke asked me to go to her meeting with Ms. Barstow before Thanksgiving break, and my golf game was canceled last minute, so I went. This is the list they came up with. Just so you know, Brooke seems pretty excited about a few of these schools.” He handed Alicia his phone.
Alicia sighed. “And you’re just telling me?”
“Gee, Leesh, I don’t know. You’ve seemed pretty preoccupied lately,” he said with a pointed glance.
Alicia chose to ignore the jab and pulled her reading glasses out of her handbag. As she scanned the list, she kneaded her forehead like it was one of those squishy Stanford stress balls she kept in her office. She expected underwhelming, but this list was downright disorienting. Colorado College, NYU, Santa Clara, Lewis & Clark, Whitman. At least USC and Emory were included. She knew a few CEOs who had sent their kids there and lived through the humiliation.
“Jesus.” Alicia groaned. “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever brought someone in for a job interview from a single one of these schools. Maybe USC?”
“Brooke loved Lewis & Clark. We did a little road trip while you were out of town last week.”
Alicia tossed his phone on the seat between them. How had those two managed a college visit without even telling her? “Please tell me that’s not the stoner school Steve Jobs went to.”
“No—you’re thinking of Reed College. That’s southwest of Portland. Lewis & Clark is just north of the city. It took us less than three hours to get there. It’s close to home but not too close.”
Bryan grew animated as he extolled the benefits of this school Alicia had barely heard of and had definitely never entertained her daughter attending. When she’d actually needed his help with Brooke’s essays, he’d been nowhere to be found. At this point, she wished he would just stick to screaming from the sidelines at her soccer games. “Hmm” was about all she could muster.
“Ms. Barstow said most of the schools on the list are still a stretch.”
Alicia turned her head to Bryan, her mouth hanging open. “These are a stretch? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“But Brooke’s a development priority, so she’s in a different category. It probably makes sense to write a $1 million check to each one. It’s only—” He paused, counting the number of the schools on the list. “It’s only $7 million.”
“Only $7 million,” Alicia muttered, which looked like a bargain after the $15 million she’d forked over in Aspyre stock to Stanford. Early admissions decision day couldn’t arrive soon enough. They’d delete this embarrassing emergency fallback list and never speak of it again. They rode the rest of the way in silence.
When they arrived at the museum and stepped out of the car, Bryan said, “Come on, babe. Let’s forget about college for one night and try to have a little fun.” He kissed her cheek and threw his arm around her. She tried to smile back. As they entered the party in a room filled with the most exquisite glass sculptures on earth, it was hard not to ponder the fragility of it all.
30
Kelly
They’d only just arrived, but the Elliott Bay Bellini—the signature cocktail offered by smartly attired waiters at the entrance to the party—was already packing a wallop on Kelly’s empty stomach. She gazed around the room at what had to be the most elaborate parent “stress buster” in history. Kelly had starved herself all day to save room for what she knew would be a menu to die for, having already sampled some of it at the last SST meeting. Her first order of business was to hit the appetizer buffet for a nibble. Four steps into her quest, a trio of EBA dads hailed Kevin over. “I’ll catch up with you later.” He winked at her.
It was just as well that she was on her own for a bit. Kevin needed to network, and she needed to eat. A win-win. As she surveyed the glittering glasshouse, she gave herself permission to be swept up in the glamour of the night. She did a perfunctory scan of the crowd but was distracted by the abundant food artfully placed throughout the massive room, not to mention the intricate salmon-and-blue (EBA colors) ice sculpture inspired by one of Chihuly’s famous installations. Her eyes lit up, and she floated over to the nearest tower of delicacies.
Seattle’s latest James Beard Award–winning chef had curated a veritable showcase of the Pacific Northwest’s finest cuisine: Dungeness crab leg cocktail, Salish Sea spot prawns and Hood Canal oysters, Wagyu beef sliders on brioche buns smeared with what had to be a crack-laced pickled pepper aioli, salmon poke in sesame cones with a note card thoughtfully clarifying that the salmon used in the poke was not the species preferred by endangered orcas, curried chicken bites served in Skagit Valley winter greens, and Kelly’s personal favorite—bite-sized balls of fried Beecher’s macaroni and cheese with a hint of truffle oil, the most obscenely delicious thing she had ever tasted. “Oh my God,” she gushed aloud. Her taste buds were exploding with pleasure.
Her moment of bliss ended abruptly when she tuned in to Amanda and Sarah talking a few feet away from her. They were urgently discussing the rumor that Ethan Martin raised his ACT score from a 25 to a 33 using some incredible new tutor from the Bay Area. Kelly had heard this same rumor a few days earlier and was furious. An eight-point jump was practically unheard of.
Amanda and Sarah had already spotted her, so Kelly had no choice but to join the conversation. For once, she had no stomach for college gossip. “Can you believe this spread? Diana really outdid herself, huh?”
“Amazing!” Amanda agreed. “We were just talking about Ethan’s incredible new test score. I know the Martins and the Stones are good friends. Do you think Alicia used the same tutor for Brooke? If so, you might have even more competition for that spot than you bargained for!”
“I want the guy’s name for my next kid,” Sarah said. “I spent $10,000 on tutoring, and Hannah’s score only went up three points.”
Kelly smiled. She wasn’t about to reveal that she’d spent far more than that on tutoring and boot camps to secure Krissie’s 34 on the ACT, and she definitely wouldn’t ever tell a soul how she’d ratted out Brooke for cheating on her essays. So with nothing of consequence left to say to these women, she hoisted up her empty glass like a mime and chased down a server with a tray of Bellinis.
Across the party hall, Kevin appeared to be working the room with the effortless charm that had made him a rainmaker at his firm. He was in his element. Why ruin a good thing? Scanning the crowd again, this time, her eyes landed on Diana, Augusta, and Alicia chatting near the photo booth, dressed to the nines.
Augusta was stunning in navy silk artfully draped over her curvy figure, setting off her auburn hair. Alicia wore a sophisticated dark-gray number with blouson sleeves and ruffle cuffs. And Diana wore a drop-dead-sexy winter-white gown with a plunging neckline and a slit to high heaven. Everyone greeted Kelly politely, but she was self-conscious in the black empire-waist maternity cocktail dress she’d found packed away in the basement, which had looked passable in the mirror of her dimly lit bedroom but now read a little shabby under the luminous canopy of blown glass and gave off the faint scent of mothballs. She touched her ear, nervously seeking security in her diamond studs, but pulled her hair forward to cover her ears when she glimpsed Diana’s gigantic gem-encrusted earrings. “What an incredible party,” Kelly exclaimed to the group. “Diana, this is amazing! Thank you so much for pulling it all together.”
“I think we all deserve it after this fall.” Diana smiled, declining to share any of the credit with Maren, who Kelly knew probably took care of 99 percent of the event logistics and was passing a tray of hors d’oeuvres at this very moment. But then again, Diana had agreed to foot 99 percent of the bill.
“Cheers to that,” Alicia said, raising her glass to Diana.
As they all clinked their glasses together, the gorgeous Summer Kendrick, owner of Seattle Spirit, the exclusive health and beauty concierge experience accessible only through equity membership, shimmied into the circle in an exquisite emera
ld-green cocktail dress and received a warm welcome. Kelly admired how Summer could move in a way that seemed graceful, effortless, and humble—all at the same time.
“So I have some fun college news to share!” Summer shot Diana a glance that seemed to seek permission to continue, like a nervous habit. Diana’s monthly spending at Seattle Spirit probably covered Summer’s mortgage payments, which made Summer eager to keep her best customer happy.
“Oh?” Diana asked. “What’s that?”
“Juni committed to row at Brown!” Summer squealed.
A chorus of strained enthusiasm greeted Summer’s shocking announcement. It was obvious Kelly wasn’t the only one trying to reconcile this somewhat astonishing news. Juni was a nice girl who did pretty well in school but didn’t take many AP classes. And Brown was one of the hottest Ivies right now. All heads turned to Diana, since everyone knew her daughter, Tenley, had applied for early admission to Brown.
Diana sported a smile as she fiddled with her five-carat diamond ring. “Wow, Summer. I thought Juni committed to row at UW?”
“She hadn’t signed her letter of intent yet. The Brown coach saw her at a race over the summer and really pursued her.” Summer seemed bewildered by her daughter’s good fortune.
“I can’t believe you’ve never mentioned this,” Diana said. “Will it be difficult for her to balance such rigorous coursework with rowing?”
“The coach said they provide tutors for every subject.” Summer shrugged. “I mean, college is college. How hard can it be?”
Diana seemed to deliberately retrain her features back into her usual winning smile. “Well, good for Juni. Now, you all must excuse me. I think our special guests for the evening are ready to take the stage.” She winked at Kelly.
When Diana had texted Kelly the name of the band she’d lined up for the evening’s entertainment, Kelly’s jaw nearly hit the floor. This was a parent stress buster, for God’s sake. Diana had also asked the band to do the on-campus Snowcoming announcement for the seniors. And they’d said yes! Kelly wondered how much that had cost Diana. Maybe she’d sweetened the deal by promising to help get someone’s kid into EBA?
“Welcome, EBA parents!” Diana’s voice reverberated in the mic as she stood on the empty stage at the front of the room. “While the kids are having a blast at their Snowcoming dance, Michael and I just wanted to tell you how absolutely ecstatic we are to host this special parent event. We’ve all worked so hard and sacrificed so much for our children to reach this point. It’s such a stressful time for all of us right now with early admissions decisions coming out soon. So tonight, we owe it to ourselves to relax and have some fun!” Diana thrust her wineglass high up in the air. Calling for a drumroll, Diana introduced the hired musicians for the night—just a little local band called Pearl Jam.
The band joined a gleeful Diana onstage and launched into their set. The first song was one of Kevin’s favorites. He was an excellent dancer, and Kelly knew he’d be looking for her. However, she couldn’t bear the thought of jiggling around on the dance floor in full view of all the svelte EBA moms, so like a middle school wallflower, she slinked off to the refreshment table instead. A few minutes later, she spotted Kevin dancing with Amanda right up at the front of the stage in a crush of drunken parents. Amanda looked like she’d borrowed one of her daughter Audrey’s “un-dresses,” as Kelly liked to call the teenage fashion trend of dresses that barely concealed the girls’ butt cheeks. And to Kelly’s dismay, Amanda was pulling it off thanks to the wonders of her divorce diet.
The next song took everyone by surprise. Instead of playing one of their own songs, Pearl Jam started riffing on Bob Dylan’s “Rainy Day Women No. 12 & 35.” It was a perplexing choice, at least until they reached the famous chorus—“everybody must get stoned”—and a team of servers, full of pomp and circumstance and with impeccable timing, rolled out a cart filled with gourmet cannabis desserts to the center of the dance floor. Pot desserts at a quasi-school-sanctioned event? Kelly was momentarily thankful Diana had failed to mention the cannabis cart to her. Plausible deniability. But really, what did it matter? Double Ass would never risk scolding Diana and Michael Taylor.
Kelly continued watching as Kevin and Amanda danced wildly for a few more songs before Kevin led Amanda over to the chocolate fountain. Dipping a pretzel into the cascading waterfall of bittersweet chocolate, he offered it to her with a flourish. Amanda closed her eyes, threw her head back, and indulged in the luscious treat.
Kevin had always been a bit of a harmless flirt, but was this something more? Kelly really couldn’t imagine it. She’d always taken comfort in the solidity of their relationship. They’d certainly had more arguments the past couple years, but Kelly attributed that fact to the strain of money, Krissie’s approaching launch, and college craziness in general, not some global issue with their marriage. But then what middle-aged wife did see an affair coming down the pike?
Barely holding back tears and not wanting to make a scene, Kelly took off in search of the bathroom. She realized she must have taken a wrong turn when she found herself outside the Chihuly Theater. Having visited the museum before with the kids, she remembered sitting through a film about the artist that ran on a loop. She was 100 percent certain the heated voices she heard on the other side of the cloth curtain were not from the film.
Indeed, it was immediately clear she was listening to an exchange between Bryan and Maren. She would know their voices anywhere. Kelly clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle her surprise. She could hardly believe her luck. Was it possible she was overhearing a lover’s quarrel? EBA moms had speculated for years whether there was anything going on between the two of them. Bryan’s wandering eye was legendary, and Maren was young and obviously beautiful despite her attempts to cover up with her “plain Jane” style. If Kelly could obtain proof of an illicit relationship, Lord knew she could put that information to excellent use. All she had to do was stand still and avoid detection, and Bryan and Maren might unwittingly reveal all their secrets. She leaned closer to the curtain.
31
Maren
“Jeez, Bryan—you’re so wasted,” Maren said. “This theater is off-limits to party guests. Why don’t you go find Alicia? Or I can call you an Uber?” She was clinging to her last shred of patience. Would this goddamn stress buster never end?
When Maren had reported for duty three hours before the party, she was informed by the museum liaison that Diana had committed her to doing periodic sweeps of the Chihuly Theater in case the large “Do Not Enter” sign at the theater entrance wasn’t persuasive enough. So now, on top of everything else necessary to meet Diana Taylor’s exacting party standards, Maren also had to play bouncer to a steady stream of overstressed parents looking for a quiet place to snort or screw away their college admissions worries. She’d just shooed out one disheveled duo—a dad and mom who were in flagrant violation of the old adage “dance with the one that brung ya”—when Bryan stumbled into the darkened theater.
“I don’t wanna go home,” Bryan said with a pouty face. “At least not with her. She’s so nasty all the time.”
“Well, Bryan, I’m afraid that’s not my department,” Maren said, trying to keep it light. “But I do need to clear this room, so why don’t you head on back to the bar?” She pointed her finger toward the exit, since he seemed even more slow-witted than usual.
Before she could react, Bryan’s hand darted out and grabbed ahold of her outstretched arm, and he yanked her into his chest. “There, that’s better,” he slurred as he groped her butt.
“Let go of me! Now!” Maren hissed as she wrestled out of his grip. He lunged toward her again, but this time, she saw it coming. She jumped back out of his reach but ended up falling to the floor in a heap, having forgotten all about the wooden viewing bench behind her. Her heart was pounding with terror. He’d always been a nuisance, but she’d never felt she was in danger until this mom
ent. If she had, no amount of money or security could have coaxed her to stay with Alicia. “Bryan, don’t. Please!”
Standing over Maren, he paused for an excruciating few seconds. Like the dog who finally caught the squirrel but had no idea what to do with it. “You know what’s funny?” he said, pointing at her lying on the ground. “You and Winnie are both clumsy. Like mother, like daughter.” He started to fumble with his belt buckle.
Maren’s blood ran cold, but it was his words that were even more chilling than his actions. “What are you talking about?”
“I just thought I’d scare her a little. My car never touched her. How was I supposed to know she’d be such a klutz? But hey,” he said, raising his hands, “I didn’t send that batshit text afterward. I dunno who did that.”
“Oh my God. It was you.” Maren spoke in a whisper. She almost couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, but her hushed voice paradoxically seemed to scare him more than her yelling. He startled and stepped back, affording her the opportunity to scramble to her feet. As she did, she pulled a corkscrew from her apron pocket and held it in her closed palm. She would be ready if he came at her again. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to flee, but she had to get the rest of the story out of him. “What kind of monster are you?” she baited him in a low, guttural voice.
“What? What are you gonna do, call the police? They’d never believe trash like you over me. I’m Bryan fucking Stone.”
Maren was seeing red. “You’ve known Winnie over half her life. She was like a sister to Brooke. How could you do this? And then to not stop and help her? She nearly died.”
“Riiiiight. How would that have looked?” Bryan sneered. “I’d been drinking, and the goddamn girl who beats my daughter in everything has an accident right before the Stanford deadline? I don’t think so.”
Girls with Bright Futures Page 29
