What a Mother Knows

by Leslie Lehr

  “What is this?” Cathy asked. “Mommy Wars?”

  “Call it what you want. At least your kid didn’t run away.” Michelle turned toward the field, fighting back tears. She felt Cathy’s hand on her arm. “Do you know anything about that? About Nikki?”

  Cathy dropped her hand. “Can’t go there.”

  “Please, Cathy, I’m begging you.”

  Two teenage boys in brown baseball jerseys ran up, interrupting them. “Aren’t you Tyler Mason’s mom?”

  Michelle wiped her eyes and smiled. “Yes. He’s in the bullpen if you want to say hello.”

  The taller boy shoved a Roadhouse CD in her face. “We want your autograph, Killer Mom!”

  Michelle balked. She must have heard them wrong.

  Cathy snatched the CD. “You boys should be ashamed of yourselves!”

  “Hey, that’s mine!” the boy said as the other kid dragged him away. “Fucking bitch!”

  “I’m calling your mother!” Cathy called. She handed the CD to Michelle. “Look, I’m sorry about all this. I really am. You may think my family is perfect, but I count my lucky stars every day. Like that expression, ‘There but for the grace of God, go I.’”

  Michelle nodded. “Do people really call me that?”

  “Just kids. Fans. You can throw that CD away if you want. I would.”

  “No, I’d like to hear it.” Michelle looked up from Noah’s sweet face on the cover and tried to shake off the spooky feeling. “Didn’t you mention a favor?”

  Cathy marked the score chart, then lowered her voice. “When your husband first called, I was against Kenny taking the case. I thought there was a conflict of interest, since he was the last one to see you.”

  “Here at the field?”

  “Yes. I warned him about the rainy forecast, but he refused to cancel the game, because we needed the win to make playoffs. By the third inning, when the boys were soaking wet, some of the parents had already left. We took a bunch in the van, so you offered to take the banner in the SUV. That’s the last I saw of you.”

  Neither spoke for a moment.

  “Besides visiting a few times in the hospital, I mean. Which was almost impossible with such limited visiting hours. Anyway, around Thanksgiving, Kenny gave Drew a hand with the paperwork over a couple of beers. The auto claim was open and shut because you were in such bad shape. When they induced the coma, he set up a conservatorship with power of attorney and the living will and all that. Then, you pulled the Rip Van Winkle act and everybody started suing each other. Drew got a letter from Pacific Auto saying the case value might exceed the policy limits for personal liability, and you would be responsible for any judgment beyond that. So, in addition to the insurance lawyer, you needed a lawyer to protect your personal exposure. I think it’s called Cumis counsel.”

  “And he hired Kenny?”

  “Don’t act so surprised.”

  “I’m sorry,” Michelle said, shaking her head. “It’s just—a lot to digest.”

  “Fair enough,” Cathy said. “But just so you know, my husband has the highest record of wins in the Valley, probably most of LA. He’s got the right kind of charm.” She glanced over at her husband with pride, then marked the score chart.

  “Since your health insurance maxed out, Pacific Auto kicked in up to the medical limit of your policy, but then Drew had to start paying out of pocket. Which made it impossible to pay Kenny. By then, we’d received so many new legal documents and subpoenas we had to get another filing cabinet. I begged Kenny to quit the case, but he didn’t want to leave you in the lurch.” Cathy sighed. “He’s trying to work something out with the insurance company, but the whole thing is out of hand. I’ve been making Hamburger Helper for dinner three times a week. They have forty-some flavors, but they all taste the same. And Kenny had to let his secretary go, so I had to step down as PTA president to help.”

  “That’s awful,” Michelle said. “How can he still volunteer to coach?”

  “It’s the only thing that keeps him going. That and the hope that he’ll get a ton of new business if he wins.”

  “Do you think he has a chance?” Michelle asked, watching him across the field.

  “You tell me.” Cathy lowered her voice. “When I was helping Drew pack, I found your love note from Noah.”

  Stunned, Michelle looked at Cathy.

  “It said, ‘LA woman, you’re my woman.’”

  Michelle relaxed. “That’s a song lyric, isn’t it? Tyler said Noah was a Doors freak.” Michelle waited, but Cathy kept her eyes on the game. “Oh, please, you can’t possibly think…”

  Cathy interrupted. “Doesn’t matter what I think. It didn’t look good, so I threw it out.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “You’re welcome.” Cathy paused to record a run on her chart. “But I didn’t do it for you. I need this all to end. We’re already dipping into Cody’s college fund to pay the mortgage. Unless he gets a scholarship, he’s looking at community college. With all the state cutbacks, it’ll be years until he gets the classes he needs to transfer—and those baseball programs are a joke.”

  Michelle saw Kenny whispering in a boy’s ear at third base. “No wonder you’re so angry with me. I am so sorry, Cathy. But what can I do?”

  “Kenny mentioned a release your nurse dropped off—a formal agreement to end medical care. Sign it. Drew’s already on a payment plan, but with more expenses coming…”

  “What if something else crops up?”

  “Then open a new claim that you won’t have to pay until after the trial. But your knitting days are over, right?” They both looked down at Michelle’s useless arm.

  Michelle tried to understand. “So Kenny would get paid sooner?”

  “That’s the idea. Do you want to talk to Drew about it?”

  “No, I’m a big girl. Just tell me what you heard about Nikki. Please.”

  “You’ll have to get that rehab doctor to sign the release, too.”

  “Deal. Tell me what you know.”

  Cathy looked up at the baseball field. “Kenny said not to upset you.”

  “That’s what Drew said, too. As if nothing upsetting has happened so far.”

  “Men,” Cathy said. They laughed together, but only for a moment.

  “Please?” Michelle asked. “All I know is: it rained. Did I take Tyler and Noah home?”

  “Noah wasn’t at the game.”

  “You sure?” Michelle asked.

  “He was mostly around at practices. And I would have noticed his Harley.”

  Michelle looked at her. “Hard to picture that skinny kid on a Harley-Davidson.”

  “This wasn’t the big kind, not like Kenny had back in the day. Can you believe my husband had a 650? Looked like Russell Crowe riding that hog,” Cathy sighed. “Traded it for the minivan, poor thing.”

  “Can you think of anything else?” Michelle asked.

  Cathy shook her head and marked the scorecard.

  “Which other parents should I talk to?”

  “None! Please don’t. They had to deal with the police and the news reporters. We forfeited the last game of the season to be at Noah’s funeral. For most of these boys, it was their first one. And here you are, like the ghost of Christmas past, to stir it all up again.”

  Michelle was beginning to understand why she felt stares pelting her back. When she looked at the bleachers, a few faces turned away.

  “Go home,” Cathy pleaded. “Besides distracting the parents, there are too many teenagers here. Roadhouse is the biggest LA band since the Red Hot Chili Peppers.” She pointed at a cluster of teenagers aiming their phones at them. “You’re probably already on YouTube.”

  People were cheering again.

  Cathy looked out at the field. “Drat. I’ve lost track.”

  Michelle spotted Tyler trotting to the far side of the outfield. “Fine, I’ll go.

  “Thanks. And keep that dress clean for the deposition—it’s perfect.”

  Miche
lle looked at the beige linen. “Does it make me look innocent?”

  “Aren’t you?” Cathy asked.

  12

  The next morning, Michelle poked her head outside like a groundhog checking for spring. Her conversation with Drew last night hadn’t gone well, but at least he promised to order her a phone. She used to handle all the house accounts—now her name wasn’t even on them. After they hung up, she was so worn out that she got a decent night of sleep. All she wanted now was a little bit of fresh air while she figured out what to do next. She fastened the Velcro square of her hospital blouse, hooked Bella’s leash on her collar, then opened the door wide. Before she could grab the leash again, Bella ran out.

  “Tyler! Hurry!”

  Her son bolted out of the bathroom, already dressed. “What?”

  She pointed outside. Fortunately Bella was more interested in smelling every tree on the street than in stretching her furry legs. As the St. Bernard sniffed her way to the next yard, Michelle imagined how she must have suffered on the smoggy streets of New York City. Here, she could inhale information about the age and sex of every animal that had peed there in the past month. If only Nikki’s trail was that clear.

  “Will you please take her for a walk?”

  Tyler ran out and grabbed the leash. “Can I do it later? I’m meeting friends for breakfast.”

  “Fine. Put her in the yard, and I’ll give you money. But I need you to pick up my alterations, okay?”

  He pulled the dog back in the house. She watched him track dirt as he crossed the living room carpet, then caught her reflection in the glass of the French doors. When he returned, they went in the kitchen, where she gave him cash from the envelope she had wedged under the orchid vase. “Leave your phone.”

  Tyler hesitated, then sent a quick text and handed it over. “This is not the part of having a mom that I missed.”

  “Well, get used to it, honey.” She watched him go, then looked at the phone and sunk into a chair. She had no idea how to use it. She set the phone on the dinette and tapped in her old office number, one digit at a time.

  A young woman answered. “Golden Hour.”

  Michelle recognized the voice of her former assistant. “Asia. It’s Michelle Mason.”

  “No way! How are you?”

  “Fine,” Michelle said. Lying was easier than explaining. “Thank you for the orchids. Victor’s name is on them, but I know how things work over there.”

  “You should,” Asia said. “You taught me everything I know.”

  “True. So who’s been running the place?”

  “Me,” Asia said.

  Michelle chuckled. “Good for you. Then you know what’s up with Victor’s crew. I’m trying to get in touch with Sasha. Is she working?”

  “Not for us,” Asia said. “Last few times I tried to book her, she was unavailable.”

  “Bummer. Is Victor around? Maybe he’ll know.”

  “He’s shooting today. Shall I give him a message?”

  “Please. Tell him thanks for the flowers. And can you give me the number for Paramount? I want to congratulate Becca on her production deal, but I can’t find my address book.”

  Michelle memorized the number Asia gave her, then tapped each digit quickly, before she lost her nerve. Her old film school friend had jumped a dozen professional rungs above her while she was asleep. After repeating herself to a gauntlet of studio assistants, Michelle was finally transferred to Becca’s cell.

  “Oh my god, Chelle!” Becca exclaimed. “I’m just leaving Malibu. Stay where you are—I’ll head right over.”

  Michelle hung up, pleased. Becca wouldn’t care how awful she looked. She was one of the people Michelle remembered most from visiting hours at the hospital.

  ***

  Forty minutes later, a black limo pulled up in front of the house. By the time Michelle shuffled to the foyer, Becca’s snakeskin boots were already tapping a dance on the tile. When she saw Michelle, she hugged her with such ferocity that Michelle almost fell over. “Look at you!”

  Michelle didn’t want to cry, so she laughed. “What about you—gorgeous as ever in those leather pants.”

  “Sorry, it’s just so good to see you home,” Becca said. “Home, hell. Alive!”

  “Then why did you miss my party?”

  “I was in Vancouver. I called your cell, but a plumber has that number now. You got the champagne, right?”

  “Yes, thanks,” Michelle said, walking her to the kitchen. “Kudos on your three-picture deal, by the way. I can’t believe you didn’t mention it. Now I have to hate you.”

  “Why do you think I didn’t mention it? You weren’t in a position to compete. Not that you ever were.”

  “Hey, I was always the better producer. I rarely went over budget.”

  “Oh, Chelle. That’s because you played it safe. I fought for this deal. You never had the balls. And I mean that in the nicest way.”

  Michelle laughed. “Well, I hate you in the nicest way.”

  Becca pulled a bag of Famous Amos cookies from her purse. “Will this make up for it? I would have brought fresh ones, but the shop by your office is long gone.” She ripped open the bag and poured the cookies right on the dinette. They dove in.

  “Yum,” Michelle said, “but I still hate you. And there’s a better way for you to make up for it. Get me a good hair stylist—I haven’t been able to reach Sasha.”

  “Of course not,” Becca said.

  “What do you mean?’

  Becca almost choked on her cookie. “I mean, last I heard, she was working back east. And there are better stylists who charge less.”

  “Victor’s girlfriends always get top dollar,” Michelle said, “until he dumps them. But I like Sasha. And she taught me to knit.”

  Becca got up and foraged the refrigerator. “That’s not as trendy as it used to be. A lot has changed. Must be scary.”

  “It’s scary just to look in the mirror. Know anyone who will do my hair for free?”

  “You mean someone who wants to kiss my ass now that I’ve got studio backing?”

  Michelle nodded. “Exactly. You still owe me for sleeping on my couch in film school.”

  “No way. That futon gave me so many back problems that my chiropractor bought a Mercedes. You’re out of milk, by the way. Is that slice of cake from your party?”

  Michelle got up and put the cake she’d saved for Nikki in the freezer. “What about when I got pregnant and gave you my job on the film in Turkey that ended up winning Sundance?”

  “See what I mean about being a softie?” Becca said. “I’d send you to Lorenzo, but he only does red.” She fluffed her short hair.

  “I just want to go back to a nice, polished brown.”

  Becca poured a glass of tap water, then appraised Michelle. “Why? That was fine for a ‘suit,’ but you’re not going back to work, are you?”

  “Not until I find Nikki.” Michelle sat back down at the table. She didn’t have the strength to explain while standing up. “She’s missing. She’s not an exchange student, she’s a runaway. Drew lied.”

  Becca looked at her water, as if she couldn’t find the right words.

  Michelle had rarely seen her friend so quiet, and the loss hit anew. She couldn’t blink back the tears, so she wiped her face with her sleeve and closed her eyes, waiting for the lump in her throat to dissolve. She felt Becca’s embrace.

  “I’m so sorry, Chelle. What horrible news to come home to. Do you have any idea where she might be?”

  Michelle opened her eyes. “No. But I’m going to find her.”

  Becca nodded and smoothed Michelle’s hair from her face. “How?”

  “I don’t know. There are lawyers involved.”

  “I hate lawyers.” Becca tilted her head to think and spotted something beneath the dinette. She reached down and scooped up a lipstick.

  Relieved for the momentary distraction, Michelle pointed at the black-and-white Chanel logo. “My mother’s. She thinks I
should go blond.”

  Becca smiled. “How is Her Majesty? Or shall I ask her myself?”

  “You missed her by a day,” Michelle said. She laughed as Becca held the back of her hand to her forehead, imitating Elyse’s dramatic way of expressing concern. “You always did have good timing.”

  Becca opened the tube. “I bet she left this on purpose. She’s been trying to get you to go pale for as long as I’ve known you.” Becca sat down again. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d make it. And in the rehab center, you were really struggling. There were a lot of tears.” She closed the lipstick. “You didn’t recognize me until I started bringing cookies.”

  Michelle sniffed a cookie and teased her friend. “Hard to forget this smell. But I appreciate you hanging in there, Becca. It means a lot.”

  “I was happy just to flirt with your hot doctor. Told him I could get him on that Doctors TV show, but he wasn’t interested. Nice change from the egotists I work with. Once I realized he was there twice a week, I had my assistant put it on my schedule.” She chuckled, then heard her iPhone buzz. She pulled it from her pocket and clicked to read the message. “Speaking of which, I have to head back to the studio soon, so let’s get down to work. You can get laser treatments for the scarring and an airbrush tan, but—blond? Sex appeal is not going to help you find Nikki.”

  “I just want to cover the gray.”

  “Oh, Chelle, you’ll need to do more than that. You’ll need to look the part.”

  “Is that your secret?”

  “One of them,” Becca admitted. She put her phone away. “So, tell me. If this were a movie, who would you be?”

  Michelle toyed with her cookie. It had been a long time since they played this game. Now Becca did it for a living and Michelle was playing for real. “Sleeping Beauty?”

  Becca scoffed. “All that princess did was wake up. She didn’t have to reclaim the kingdom.” She looked at Michelle. “And this is no fairy tale.”

  “Maybe not, but I could definitely use a fairy godmother.”