Winter White

by Jen Calonita

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  For Mallory Calonita.

  You may be my cousin, but I love you like a sister.

  One

  “How y’all doing this fine morning, North Carolina?”

  Wendy Wallington’s famous Southern twang ricocheted throughout the television studio, whipping her audience into a frenzy. The adulation increased as she strutted down the aisle in her signature four-inch sparkly heels and shook hands with excited viewers, like the woman wearing a Waa-Waa Wendy T-shirt. The nickname was one the legendary talk show host nabbed after it became apparent that she was a whiz at making her guests cry.

  If there was ever a day Wendy wanted to work her tear-duct mojo, it was this one. Bill Monroe, the charismatic state senator in the middle of a deliciously juicy scandal, was bringing his whole family on The Wendy Wallington Show. Wendy adored her old college buddy, but she couldn’t help seeing the bigger green dollar-sign picture: If this episode with Bill and his family turned out to be the solid gold she thought it was, she might finally get that syndication offer she had been dreaming of for years.

  Wendy turned to the camera with a sultry pout that likely nabbed her the Miss USA crown. “Let’s settle down, y’all. We need all the time we can get today. My good friend North Carolina Senator Bill Monroe is here with his gorgeous family.”

  The cheering quickly died out, and whispers rippled through the crowd like the wave at a ball game.

  Wendy adopted a serious tone. “Unless you’ve been living under a rock these last few weeks, then you already know this family’s heart-wrenching saga,” she told the cameras. “A few weeks ago, just as Senator Monroe was about to announce his run for the U.S. Senate seat up for grabs because of Senator Harmon’s retirement, Bill revealed that his recently discovered niece, Isabelle, was, in fact, his daughter.” More whispers. “They’re here today to talk about how their family is dealing with his confession and what this revelation means for the senator’s political future.” Her effervescent smile returned. “And they’ve chosen to exclusively share their story with y’all! We are the only show you will see that has the entire Monroe family on to speak for themselves,” she couldn’t help but add. “So let’s give them a huge Wendy Wallington welcome!”

  As the Monroes walked onstage and took their seats on the floral couches sandwiched between Wendy’s girlie armchair and the camera crew, they looked like an average family—if the average family were wealthy and gorgeous and played a major role in state politics. None of them had a hair out of place, a wrinkle in their expensive threads, or a frown on their beautiful faces. If they were worried about Wendy’s notoriously prying questions, they didn’t show it. Instead, the senator looked as relaxed as ever when he moved in to hug his old friend and said, “Thanks for letting us come on today.”

  “Honey, are you kidding?” Wendy looked at the audience in mock surprise. “Thank you for having the decency to come on and tell us the truth. We are dying to hear from this stunning family of yours.” She looked at the Monroes’ smiling faces. Bill, as usual, looked dignified and prepared to face the press. His wife, Maureen, always the proper Southern belle, was ready with a polished hairstyle and a picture-perfect dress that brought out her green eyes. It was the same twinkling shade of green she shared with her two sons, seventeen-year-old Hayden, the crush of almost every girl at his private school, and Connor, a precocious six-year-old who seemed slightly in awe of the lights, cameras, and studio audience.

  But first impressions can be deceiving, can’t they? If those in the audience were paying attention—instead of fishing under their chairs to peek at the show’s daily giveaway—then they would have had their eyes on the Monroes’ two most-talked-about members, Mirabelle Monroe and Isabelle Scott. The fifteen-year-old girls were stunning brunettes with hazel eyes so similar, some might wonder how they didn’t catch on to their true relationship sooner. What Wendy picked up on that day were Mira’s clenched fists and Izzie’s nervous toe-tapping. A good talk show host—especially one who wanted a show that would tear up The View in the ratings—always noticed those kinds of things.

  Wendy settled into her plush chair and leaned forward intimately. “I have known y’all forever. I was at the hospital when Mirabelle was born, for goodness’ sake! So it breaks my heart for y’all to air your dirty laundry to the world.”

  “Thanks, Wendy,” Bill said with a thin smile, running a hand through his slightly graying brown hair that people said reminded them of Patrick Dempsey’s. “This has been two of the hardest weeks of my life. What we’ve been dealing with is so personal, and yet, living our lives in the public eye as we do, I know we owe it to the people of North Carolina to set the record straight.”

  “And what do you wish they knew, Bill?” Wendy asked. She looked at her studio audience. “I can call him Bill, y’all, because I knew him before he was a senator. We met when he was nothing but a fraternity boy.” The audience laughed.

  Bill smiled. “I want them to know the truth.”

  “I don’t mean to be blunt,” Wendy said, “but don’t we already know the truth? You knew about your daughter Isabelle and kept it not only from the world but also from her.”

  “The story isn’t as black and white as people make it out to be,” Bill said, crossing his legs carefully so he wouldn’t wrinkle his tan suit. “You’re a mom, Wendy. You know how hard it is being a parent. If you learned something that would change your daughter’s life, wouldn’t you want to protect her till she was ready to face the truth?” He looked at Izzie. “I wanted Isabelle to have a chance to get to know me and our family before she knew her world was turning upside down again. It had already changed so much.” His face creased slightly with worry, and his wife took his hand. “What I regret is how this story came to light. I feel terrible about the pain it caused Isabelle and our family, but I was trying to do what any father would—put the needs of my child first.”

  The audience applauded, the Monroe family smiled brightly, and Bill went on to tell the story most of them already knew from the nightly news.

  Up until a few months ago, the Monroes had never heard of Isabelle Scott, and the only thing Izzie knew about them was that Bill Monroe was a state senator. Izzie was raised in the gritty neighborhood of Harborside by her grandmother after her mom died in a car crash right before Izzie’s tenth birthday. Her grandmother looked for a guardian for Izzie when her health had started to go downhill last year, and a hidden diary revealed Bill to be Izzie’s dad. Quicker than you can say paternity test, Izzie’s grandmother was on the phone with the Monroes. But by the time the details were sorted out months later, Izzie’s grandmother was a shell of her former self and Izzie was on the verge of entering foster care. The situation deteriorated so quickly that Izzie got only a few hours’ notice about her move to her “cousins’.” To hear Bill tell it, there had been no time to second-guess his decision—the right choice was to let Izzie settle into her new life first and drop the bombshell later. And boy, was it a bombshell. The only thing keeping the mess from truly becoming a full-blown scandal was the fact that Izzie wasn’t born out of an affair—Bill didn’t know Izzie’s mom was pregnant when he was traded to the Atlanta Braves and got back together with Mauree
n, who was a widow with an infant son. The pair married almost immediately, and Mira was on the way soon after.

  “I know you’re a great father, Bill,” Wendy told him, “and I think we can understand why you didn’t want the world to know who Isabelle was till she was ready. But didn’t you think about how Isabelle would feel when she found out the truth?” She turned her attention to Isabelle before Bill could answer. “In just a few short months, you’ve gone from living with your ailing grandmother in a humble home in Harborside to attending private school in privileged Emerald Cove. Then you find out that your uncle is in fact your daddy.” Wendy shook her head at the audience. “That is a TV movie waiting to happen, y’all.” The audience murmured their agreement. “What was your first thought when you heard the news?”

  “Shock?” Izzie questioned herself. She tucked a piece of her wavy, shoulder-skimming bob behind her ear. “Surprise?” She spoke slowly, trying to find her words. “They were already my family; now they were closer. For me, that was a good thing. I had so little family as it was.”

  “But you must have felt some sense of betrayal, no?” Wendy pried. “Did you wonder why your father would keep you from knowing the truth about yourself?”

  Izzie’s toe-tapping started again. “I’m not sure I could have handled hearing it all at once. Losing my grandmother, my home, moving, and learning my uncle was actually my dad?” She rolled her eyes. “Talk about a freak-out session waiting to happen.” The audience laughed. “But I won’t lie. This has definitely been an adjustment.”

  “What about the rest of you?” Wendy asked the other Monroe kids. “How does it feel to know your cousin is actually your sister?”

  “I like her,” Connor said. “Izzie plays with me, and sometimes she takes me to get ice cream when she tells Mom we’re just going for a walk.” Everyone laughed.

  “I’m with Connor,” Hayden agreed, his green eyes gazing at Wendy so piercingly that she would have swooned if he wasn’t so young. “But not just because she likes ice cream. Izzie is awesome. I liked her before, so nothing’s really changed.”

  “Hayden, you must be able to relate to Izzie the most,” Wendy said. “Bill adopted you as a baby when he married your mom after your birth father, a Marine, was killed in the line of duty. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes,” Hayden said, shifting slightly. “I obviously don’t remember my dad, but I know what it means to feel different in a family.” He grinned at Izzie. “Izzie knows if she ever needs me, I’m here.”

  “They’re all very close, Wendy,” Maureen Monroe said, touching one of her heirloom pearl earrings that matched her necklace, bracelet, and even her cream pumps. “The kids were upset we kept the news from them, of course, but now we’re all really coming together.”

  “What do you think, Mira?” Wendy asked. “Are you one big, happy family?”

  “Yes,” Mira said decisively, bobbing her head up and down so quickly her curls bounced. “I’m thrilled to finally have a sister.”

  “But you’re always yelling at her when she locks you out of the bathroom and you have to get ready for school,” Connor said, making the audience laugh.

  Mira’s hands clenched tightly, but then she relaxed. “That’s different. Bathroom privileges are sacred, and Izzie doesn’t seem to realize that yet.” Mira shot Izzie a reproachful look.

  “You take over an hour in there sometimes!” Izzie shot back playfully. “Can’t I brush my teeth without you yapping to me?”

  “See, Wendy? We act like sisters already,” Mira said wryly.

  Wendy laughed. “I have two sisters, and the fights we used to have over the bathroom weren’t pretty.” She shook her head and turned back to Bill. “I’m glad y’all are taking this in stride, but you can’t deny that a man on the verge of a political run can’t risk the sort of scandal this story has brought you.” Wendy held up the North Carolina Post. The headline said, Daddy’s Not-So-Little Hidden Girl, and there was a picture of Bill and Izzie from a recent charity event where the news had broken. “The timing on this couldn’t be worse,” Wendy said grimly. “You announced your run in the middle of this firestorm, and your Democratic primary is this May. Do you really think you can win that and move on to the race for the open seat when a story like this is out there?”

  “North Carolinians are smart folk,” Bill said. “They know how to differentiate between news and hearsay. I can understand why people are covering this story, but I want to remind the press that we’re talking about a child who has been through so much. I’ve asked the press not to approach her at school. I’m a big boy, and I can take their punches, but she shouldn’t have to.” There was more applause. “This was a private family matter, and I don’t believe it affects how I would work for the people of this great state,” Bill said, looking at the audience and then at the cameras. “I let down the people I love, but my intention was never to hurt them. I wanted to cushion Izzie’s blow to this new world she entered for as long as I could, and I think I did that.” He smiled at her. “At least, I hope I did. And now I’m ready—we’re all ready”—he took his wife’s hand—“to be the family you need us to be to help represent North Carolina. If you vote for me during the primaries, you’re voting for a man with heart, with resilience, and determination to do right by all.”

  The audience applauded again. Some stood up and cheered. All eyes were on the Monroes, including Wendy’s. She’d gotten the interview she wanted, and she’d nailed it. That syndication offer was probably waiting on her desk already.

  “Thank you, Bill,” Wendy said, shaking each of their hands before turning back to the camera again with a winning smile. “When we come back, y’all, we’ll meet Chef Allison Hyde and get her recipe for buffalo-style chicken chili!”

  The camera panned out to show one last shot of the Monroes. This was their moment, and they stood together and waved to everyone in the studio. Bill was in the middle with his arms around Mira and Izzie, and then he broke free to shake hands with audience members. Anyone watching the episode was probably thinking, What a nice story! This family weathered a perfect storm and won. But Wendy knew better.

  You can’t believe everything you see on TV.

  Two

  Aunt Maureen was the last one to get in the limo. When the door finally closed behind her, she removed her heavy pearl earrings, dropped them into her butter-colored leather bag, leaned her head against the seat, and sighed. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  No one answered her.

  The limo carrying the Monroes from The Wendy Wallington Show in Raleigh was eerily quiet, and it was making Izzie start to feel claustrophobic. She couldn’t wait to get out of this car and back to the safety of Emerald Cove.

  The safety of Emerald Cove.

  She smiled to herself. Had she really just described EC as safe? She used to think of the wealthy community she now called home as a lion’s den. But compared with being on a talk show with Wendy Wallington, EC was safe. Wendy was scary, mostly because she was live in the flesh and asked questions that made Izzie feel nauseated. Izzie couldn’t wait to leave the studio. When those hot lights and all those cameras were on her, all she could think was, What would happen if I puked on television?

  Some things had been easy to gush about, Izzie realized as she ditched the uncomfortable heels she seemed to wear for all Monroe outings and slid back into her reliable woven flip-flops. She loved her slightly fussy aunt, Connor was adorable, and she and Hayden were as tight as a pair of leggings. Even Mira and her over-the-top, high-society ways were growing to be amusing. The Monroes had given her a home when she had none, put Grams in an incredible nursing home, and given Izzie all the stuff a fifteen-year-old girl could possibly want (laptop and iPhone) and some of the stuff she didn’t (a closet full of way-too-frilly dresses). But when Wendy had asked how she felt about Uncle Bill, or Bill, or Dad (exactly what was she supposed to call him now, anyway?), Izzie had no choice but to lie. Of course she hadn’t forgiven the man she was sudd
enly supposed to call Daddy from keeping a secret this big! But she couldn’t say that to Wendy. Thank God the senator’s newly appointed image consultant trained her how to answer dicey questions.

  Callista Foster was sitting across from Izzie in the limo, her BlackBerry and laptop never far from her fingertips. “I think you all did super!” she gushed. “Wendy lapped up everything you guys said. I told you the Q-and-A prep work would help, didn’t I?” Hayden was sitting next to her, and she nudged him for an answer.

  Hayden winked at Izzie. “The fake Q-and-A was a super idea.” Aunt Maureen glared at him.

  The Monroes’ new PR guru, a twenty-five-year-old juggernaut who had reshaped the world’s opinion of onetime pop bad girl Lyla Lowry was now on board Team Monroe. Callista was incredibly cool, except for one annoying habit. She used the word super way too much.

  “Okay, maybe I’m selling it a bit,” Callista admitted. She pushed her long reddish-blond hair behind her ears and adjusted the tortoiseshell glasses that served as a window to her sky-blue eyes. “This story is a hard sell, but the more we plug away at your side of the story, the more people will get to know the truth just like Wendy did. I just know they’re going to love you as much as they did before.” She gave an encouraging smile.

  “Wendy was very complimentary,” Aunt Maureen said. “And she went pretty easy on you, Bill, considering how upset she was when she first learned what you’d been hiding from Isabelle.”

  “At least she didn’t run me over with a Mack truck,” Bill said grimly. Izzie thought his hair got more gray with each passing article about the scandal.

  “Kissing butt is a miserable job,” Callista agreed. “I hate making you tell this story over and over till it sticks, but in today’s media-hungry world, this is what we have to do.” Callista smiled. “Now we can take a breather and let all your goodwill sink in. Even if Oprah’s OWN network begs me to put you in one of their specials, I’ll say no.” She bit her lip. “Okay, no one says no to Oprah, but…”