So she began talking with customers who either knew Susan or had kids in the schools. You're a mother, just like Susan. Have your children never disobeyed you? Does that make you less good a mother? And then, even more shamelessly, You'll want to be supportive. This is a rough time for Susan. You know about the baby, don't you?
The more she talked, the bolder she grew--because people were actually listening. Rather than being a liability, her own daughter's pregnancy seemed to give her legitimacy. I know what I'm talking about was the message.
It was definitely Empowering.
Susan wasn't as plucky. She was worried about Lily, worried about the baby, worried about her job. As grateful, even touched, as she was when she learned what Pam, Kate, and Sunny were doing, she was still frustrated. She had always been her own best champion. Now she was in an awkward position.
She decided that an e-mail to the parents was the way to go. But begging them to sing her praises wasn't her usual style.
"Maybe it should be," Rick said that evening. "If you don't toot your own horn, who will?"
"My friends. Lily's friends. They're all into it. An e-mail from me is something else, not to mention that I can just hear the guys on the school board. 'She's using her position to coerce parents to support her. They'll show up out of fear that if they don't, she'll take it out on their kids.' I'd be using my position to help myself."
"It's done all the time."
"Not by me."
"Then let's pick words you can live with," he suggested, and together they drafted a message alerting parents to the upcoming meeting: My earlier e-mail has kept you abreast of what we're doing in school to help our students deal with the current crisis. In light of the recent media coverage, the school board has decided to hold an open meeting to give you a chance to weigh in on the debate. If you'd like to give us an update on how your child is doing and tell us if you're satisfied with the steps we've taken, please plan to attend.
She gave date, time, and place, and sent it out Thursday night, knowing that she was taking a risk. If her guess was wrong and the letters in the Gazette were representative of town sentiment, she was toast.
Susan hadn't run the e-mail past Phil. When he showed up at her office Friday morning looking like he'd lost his best friend, she wondered if that had been a tactical error. He sank into a chair, his legs sprawled. For a split second, she feared he had lost his job.
She wasn't far off. "You have to help me here, Susan," he began, sounding as weary as he looked. "I'm under pressure. The school board wants you out."
"The whole board?" Susan asked in alarm. Surely not Pam. Or Hillary, or Henry.
"No. But a majority. You know the ones."
"Before next week's meeting?"
"They don't want that meeting. They don't believe the parents should decide. They think what happens in our schools should be determined by the people in charge."
Susan was incensed. "Like George Abbott and the Gazette? Like those anonymous citizens whose letters he printed?"
"I understand why you're bitter. You haven't gotten a fair shake. I do believe you've done a great job."
"Tell them that, Phil. Fight for me."
He sighed defeatedly. "Neal Lombard called. Your e-mail didn't go over well. One of the parents told Evan, who told Neal, who told Tom, Duncan, and Carl. That's four of them who want you fired, and they want me to do it. If I say no, that's four of them who'll vote to fire me. I'm fifty-eight, Susan. I can't start looking for a new job now. So I can fire you, and you can sue me for wrongful dismissal, in which case my career's hurt anyway. Or you can resign."
"Because my daughter is pregnant," Susan said in disbelief. "If those men found my e-mail threatening, they must be afraid of the crowds it'll draw."
He sighed again. "It doesn't matter. I just need you to resign."
She actually felt for him. A friend, he had given her career a major boost. But weren't they both being railroaded? "I can't, Phil."
"Sure you can," he coaxed. "You're young. There are lots of com munities looking for a good high school principal. You'll find another job."
"That's not the issue." She was thinking of Lily now. It's my future, Mom. You're paving the way. "I can't resign. Not before that meeting. If it turns out the parents disapprove of me and the job I've done, you'll have my resignation by the end of the evening. That's the best I can do."
It wasn't good enough for those school board members whose bluff she had called. They didn't fire Phil; not yet. They simply went to Plan B, which entailed moving the open board meeting from Wednesday to Thursday.
Pam was furious. Having declared her allegiance to Susan, she argued forcefully with the board in a conference call Friday afternoon.
"Thursday night is impossible," she said. "Susan will be in Boston for Lily's surgery."
"Ms. Tate doesn't have to be there," one of the men said.
"Of course she does. This is a referendum on her."
"Let her change her plans."
"Would you have her postpone critical surgery--you all, who are obsessed with her being a good mother? Why not hold the meeting the week after next?"
"It has to be next week. We've waited too long. Unless you want Correlli fired first."
Pam did not. Once they fired Phil, they would fire Susan, and if Neal Lombard had his way, they would elevate Evan Brewer. Even with Hillary and Harold on Pam's side, the opposition would win.
"Hillary, this is blackmail," she complained.
"Yes," Hillary said. "Threats are counterproductive, Mr. Morgan. What about holding the meeting Tuesday night?"
Pam could live with that. She could get a phone tree telling people of the change.
"Bad night," said Tom Zimmerman. "Rotary Club meeting."
"Thursday is worse," Pam argued. "Perry and Cass is holding its biannual staff meeting, which means half of our parents will be there. Besides, they're using the auditorium."
"Why can't we hold our meeting where we usually do?" Tom asked.
"In Town Hall? That's way too small."
"We've held open meetings there before."
"This one involves too many people. There has to be a better place." But the middle schools didn't have their own auditoriums, the elementary schools only had gymnasiums, and the churches were all small and tight.
"We could use the Perry and Cass warehouse," Duncan Haith said with a dry chuckle.
Pam ignored him. "Tell you what. I'll agree to Town Hall as long as we have mikes and speakers in every room there. That's the kind of crowd that'll come out for Susan Tate."
"Isn't that a threat?" asked Neal Lombard.
"No, sir," Pam replied. "It's a promise. You all are playing a game that isn't in the best interest of our kids. I have a child in the school. Same with most of the parents who'll be at this meeting. Either you give them a say now, or they'll have theirs when your terms expire next year."
Susan barely winced when Pam called to tell her the meeting would be held Thursday night. It was just one more blow. And there was nothing to consider.
"Lily has to be at the hospital at six Friday morning, and she needs to sleep Thursday night. That means checking into the hotel by nine, so I'll miss the meeting. You'll have to represent me, Pam."
As she hung up the phone, the last shred of her complacency dissolved. She had to notify parents of the change, and she was angry enough to be blunt. Important correction, she wrote in the subject line of her e-mail, and in the body, Next week's open meeting of the school board will be held on Thursday at Town Hall. I will not be there, but will be in Boston for my daughter's surgery. For those of you who don't know, Lily's baby has a congenital problem that has to be repaired if the child is to live. Since I'm unable to attend this crucial meeting, I'm counting on you all to be there in my place.
Given a unifying cause, Susan, Kate, Sunny, and Pam were all at the barn on Saturday morning. If dissension lingered, it was hard to spot. Not that there was loud laughter, as there used
to be in Susan's garage. Their purpose wasn't funny at all.
They plotted ways to notify nonparents about the upcoming meeting. They created a theme for the PC Wool promotion. They talked about Lily's surgery, Mary Kate's heartburn, and the baby girl Jessica had just learned she was having. They talked about Abby. By then, they were knitting.
Lily was knitting as well. She had slept late and, with Susan at the barn, had gone out for breakfast with Rick. They ran errands on the way home--town dump, drugstore, supermarket--and made a brief stop at the pier, but the January wind off the water was cold. Leaving the seagulls to guard the boats, they returned home and settled down in front of a fire in the den.
When there was a knock at the door, Lily put down her knitting. Most people rang the bell. Only friends knocked.
Robbie stood there. Having run across the street without a coat, he slipped quickly inside. "Hey," he said with a smile. "How're you feeling?"
"I'm good."
"I like your shirt." It was a form-fitting knit from the Portland cache. "You don't look very pregnant."
"I'm not very pregnant," Lily said, running a hand over her belly. The bulge was still small. "But I will be soon."
"Uh, that's why I'm here," he said soberly. "I want to be at the hospital next Friday, and don't tell me not to come, because I'll go anyway. I have a stake in this. It's my baby, too."
Lily thought quickly. "What if I just have my mom call you as soon as the surgery's done? That'll save you the trip."
"I want to be there."
"Just to stand around and wait?"
"It's my baby, too."
Lily didn't remind him that he'd had no say in its creation. It was time to move on. "The thing is," she said, "I'll be looking awful."
"I don't care how you look."
"I mean, it'll be embarrassing to have anyone see me all sweaty and pale."
"You won't be in labor."
"I know. But having someone other than my parents around will be stressful."
"I'll be invisible. I just want to be there. My dad said he'd drive me down."
"Why don't you drive down with us?" Rick suggested from behind Lily.
"Dad--"
"We have room in the car."
"But what if I want to lie down?" Lily asked.
"You can put your legs on my lap," Robbie said in a bolder voice, clearly encouraged.
"What if I just don't want you there?"
"Give me a good reason, and I won't go."
She tried to come up with one. But all she could think of was her parents arguing about Susan keeping Rick at arm's length and Lily saying she had wanted him closer. Now she was having a boy, who, if he made it through this surgery, would do boy things, for which a dad would be good.
"I can't," she wailed softly.
Robbie smiled. "Thought not." He high-fived Rick, opened the door, and headed out--only to deftly pivot to avoid hitting Abby, who had her knuckles raised to knock.
Abby was the last person Lily expected to see, but old habits died hard. Pulling her inside by the sleeve of her parka, she shut the door and turned to Rick. "That high five was too familiar. Did you guys plan this?"
"I swear, we did not," Rick said. "I was just as surprised as you to see him--not that I'm disappointed. He should be there."
"That's my decision to make."
"You did make it."
She supposed she had. In a way. Feeling cornered, she turned to Abby, who looked so uncharacteristically unsure that Lily couldn't bear to ask why she had come--at least, not with Rick standing there. Oh yeah, she wanted him around, just not all the time. Fathers didn't need to know everything.
Still holding Abby's sleeve, she led her up to her room and closed the door. "There. He can't hear."
"It's okay if he does," Abby said. She didn't look quite so tall. "I mean, anyone with a brain knows I should be shot."
Lily wanted to say it wasn't true. Only it was.
Sagging, Abby said, "If I hadn't been pregnant last summer, I probably wouldn't have suggested the pact, and if I hadn't done that, you wouldn't be pregnant. If you weren't pregnant, your mom wouldn't be in trouble, your baby wouldn't be in trouble, our friendship wouldn't be shot. I'm sorry about the baby, Lily. Do you think he'll be okay?"
Lily touched the spot where he was. "The doctor says so."
"You've never had surgery before. Are you scared?"
"Mostly for the baby."
Looking stricken, Abby dug her hands in her pockets. "I want to say I know. Only I don't. I wish I was pregnant, too, Lily. It would have been nice to have something important like that. My mother says there'll be a better time. She's really fighting for your mom, by the way. I've never seen her as determined. Actually," she added, "I've never seen her angry at my dad before."
"I'm sorry."
"Not your fault, absolutely not your fault. Besides, someone has to take on the school board. You should hear her on the phone with those guys. I mean, she is awesome."
Lily smiled. "I'll bet she is."
"I've been talking with everyone I know. They're all going to the meeting." Her voice cracked. "I really am sorry all this happened. If I could change everything, I would. Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?"
Not from you, Lily might have said if she were a different kind of person. But she had always liked Abby before, and really didn't want their friendship to be shot. If she was giving Robbie a chance, shouldn't she give Abby one, too?
Suddenly she had a brilliant idea. It was perfect, actually. "I need moral support. Want to drive to Boston with us next week?"
Chapter 27
Dusk had fallen hours before, but Susan didn't have to check her watch to know the time. If it hadn't meant a late night for Lily, she would have waited to leave Zaganack until after the meeting. Though only part of her future would be determined there, it was an important part--and, in truth, she had no idea whether the turnout would be pro or con. The campaigning might backfire if recipients felt they were being strong-armed--because however you looked at it, the issues were incendiary. PREGNANCY PACT. PRINCIPAL'S DAUGHTER. BAD MOTHER.
People liked Susan; she truly believed that. But this wasn't a simple matter of like or dislike. The debate involved parenting styles, politics, even professional considerations, if allies were lost to the Perry & Cass meeting across town.
"Packed," said Abby, reading a text message. She was on Lily's left, her face lit by the glow of her phone. "The boardroom, the hall, Dr. Correlli's office. The stairs."
"Good turnout," said Rick, eyes leaving the highway only to shoot Susan an encouraging look.
She didn't reply. Packed meant nothing if the crowd believed she was a disgrace.
From behind, Lily said, "How do they decide who sits in the boardroom?"
"First come, first served," Abby explained, "but they have monitors to call on people in the other rooms. Mom insisted on that."
"She's a trooper," Susan said. "Her skipping the Perry and Cass meeting was an issue. Families usually attend."
"Your dad's upset she chose Town Hall?" Lily asked Abby.
"Not Dad. His cousin Rodney, who publishes the Gazette. He is angry at Mom for supporting Susan. His guy took the other side, so he feels personally insulted."
"How does your father feel?"
"I don't know," Abby said, but her eyes were on the phone. "This is from Stephie, who's inside the boardroom. Mrs. Dunn is saying that the meeting is about leadership. She says they're split about who should head the high school."
"Then it is a referendum on you, Mom," Lily said.
"We knew it was," Susan acknowledged, glancing back. Lily was gnawing her cuticle. She was nervous about the surgery, but she seemed to like having Abby there. Same, actually, with Robbie, who, for the sake of extra legroom, sat behind Susan. She'd had mixed feelings about his coming, but liked the way Lily was being supported.
"Here we go," said Abby. "The first speaker is Sue Meader."
Rick gl
anced questioningly at Susan. "Friend," she told him. "We've worked on projects together. She has five kids. She's totally sympathetic."
"She calls you masterful," Abby reported as the text appeared.
"So does my dad," Robbie put in. "He says you've done a great job handling all this."
"Does your mother agree?" Lily asked.
"Not yet," he said in a way that implied she would in time.
Susan hoped so. Things would be awkward once the baby was born if Annette Boone was still angry at Lily.
"John Hendricks," announced Abby, then added a low, "Disappointed."
"Disappointed in what?" Lily cried. "That his kids never made headlines? I mean, like, they are huge losers."
"He has a right to his opinion," Susan said.
"It's biased."
"That's what Mary Webber is arguing," Abby reported.
"And how will they decide this anyway?" Lily asked. "Take a vote? A show of hands at the end of the night? Thumbs up or thumbs down for Susan Tate?"
Susan smiled wryly. "Ideally, there will be so many yeas that the nays will shut their mouths and go away."
"Anne Williams," Abby called out. "Praising you, Susan. And Mom's saying to tell you women outnumber men two to one."
That was good, Susan thought. "Women may be more apt to support another woman." She paused. "Unless they're lousy moms and want to look good by making me look worse. Or unless the prevailing sentiment is against me, in which case they may jump on the bandwagon."
"Isn't that pact behavior?" Lily asked.
"More likely pack behavior," Rick called back. "They just follow the leader and go in a group."
"How is that different from a pact?"
"A pact is premeditated. The group agrees to it, and it usually involves something that's socially, morally, or legally forbidden. The group gives individual members the courage to act."
"Absolutely," said Abby. "People come together to support something they'd never support by themselves. Take Lily's singing group. Their vote was premeditated. They talked about doing it. They gave each other the courage to act. That was a pact. People we know make pacts every day."
Not My Daughter Page 28
