The Young Wives Club

by Julie Pennell

  • • •

  “A ‘D’?!” LAURA huffed under her breath. The red ink in the top right corner of her quiz looked like a nonsensical squiggle.

  Vince leaned over and saw her grade. “Everyone has those days,” he said sympathetically.

  Over the past few months, Vince had become her only friend at school. After Laura had heard Riley, Rory, and Emma talking about her in the bathroom, she’d confronted them, and told them she didn’t need their friendship if that was how they really felt about her. Unfortunately, that led to the cheer girls initiating an unspoken ban against her at all of their social functions and the cafeteria table, which made school a lonely place.

  Vince, who couldn’t care less about his social status, despite being a star on the football team, had stepped into their place, at least between the hours of seven thirty and three fifteen. But even though they’d become friendly, she could never quite get what he’d said to her in the library out of her head: “You’re obviously smart. Why’d you drop out?”

  “What’d you get?” she asked, not really sure she wanted to know the answer.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said, shoving the paper in his bag.

  “Yes, it does!” she said, her competitive side coming out in full force. “Give it!”

  The two fought over the paper for a second. Laura’s giggles stopped abruptly when she finally got hold of it.

  “An ‘A’? You nerd!” she whispered, flashing a bright smile to hide her jealousy.

  Mr. Leblanc had finished passing out the papers and was now back at the front of the room. “If you were less than happy with your pop quiz results,” he said to the class, “I have good news. You have a whole week to study for the test next Tuesday.”

  Laura stifled a groan and resisted the urge to face-plant on her desk. Vince scribbled something down on a sheet of paper, folded it up, and passed it to her discreetly.

  The note read: “I’ll help you study.”

  Laura stared at the missive. It felt a little weird that he was swooping in with a “Don’t worry, babe” attitude. It’s not like she was his girlfriend. But that red D stood out like an ugly zit on her quiz, and she had to admit she needed help. Who else would do it? Brian? Ha.

  “OK,” she scribbled, and passed the note back to him.

  After the bell rang, Vince walked with her to the south wing, where she had English with Mrs. Baldwin.

  “So, when do you want to study?” he asked, fist-bumping a fellow football player as they passed each other. For a second, Laura felt like the clock had rewound to last year and she was walking with Brian again.

  They stopped in front of her classroom, and she hugged her books to her chest. “Can we do today? I have to work the next two nights.”

  “Yeah, we can do it at my house.” He rubbed his jaw. “Does that work?”

  Laura nodded, even though she secretly felt a little uncomfortable going over to another guy’s house. Whatever. She brushed it off. We’re just studying math.

  • • •

  THE SMELL OF Hot Pockets wafted through the kitchen as Vince took the snacks out of the microwave. He put them on a plate and brought them over to the dining room table, where Laura sat surrounded by textbooks, notebooks, calculators, and pencils.

  “My favorite!” Laura exclaimed. “Wait—” She glanced at the intricately patterned blue and white dish. “Is this your mom’s nice china?”

  Vince shrugged. “All of the other dishes are dirty.”

  Laura laughed. “Way to class it up.”

  He grinned and took a bite of his Hot Pocket. “Okay, let’s get down to it. What’d you get wrong on the test? Maybe we can start there.”

  Laura took out the piece of paper, feeling somewhat embarrassed to show him all the red ink. He studied it for a second and nodded his head.

  “Okay, it looks like you got the mean down, you’re just getting messed up on the variance, and that’s ruining your standard deviation results.” He looked up at her with his gorgeous hazel eyes. “So, like, let’s say you were trying to calculate the standard deviation of the bitchiness levels of girls like Riley, Emma, and Rory. . . .” He muffled a laugh and started scribbling down numbers on his notebook. “Riley’s a ten, Emma’s a seven, and Rory’s a four.”

  “Hmm . . . I would have thought the numbers would have been much higher,” Laura said, trying to sound serious, although cracking a smile. “But do continue.”

  “Well, for the purposes of this exercise, we’re doing it on a scale of one to ten, because I don’t want to use numbers that reach into the thousands.” He tapped his pencil on the paper.

  Laura twisted her hair and laughed.

  “Okay, so you know the mean is seven, that’s easy,” he said, writing the equation down. “To find the variance, we square the group’s total level of bitchiness, then square them individually and subtract that number from this one.” He pointed his pencil to his scribble and looked up at her. Their faces were so close, she could feel the heat of his breath as he talked. He looked back down and continued. “Then subtract one from your data set, and divide these two numbers.” She realized she was still staring at his face.

  She shook her head to refocus her attention back on the paper. “Okay,” she said, punching numbers into her calculator. “Eighteen divided by two is nine.” On the paper it looked so hard, but all of a sudden she got it—it was so simple!

  “Awesome!” Vince said, giving her a high five. “So, now just take the square root of that number and you’ll have your standard deviation.”

  She didn’t even need a calculator for this one. “Three!” Laura shouted the number out with excitement, sounding like a contestant on The Price Is Right. “The standard deviation of the bitchiness of Riley, Emma, and Rory is three!”

  “Ding ding ding!” Vince raised his arms and shimmied a little. Laura blushed.

  “Here,” he said, pointing his pencil to a problem in his textbook. “Try this one.”

  Laura started entering numbers into her calculator. Minutes passed as they both tried to figure out the problem, scribbling digits into their notebooks. Sure, she could figure out a small number equation, but this had five numbers, all in the thousands. That D on the quiz had shaken her confidence.

  Vince put his pencil down. “What’d you get?”

  “Is the sample standard deviation two thousand and seventy-one point eight?” Her voice reached the high pitch it always did when she was unsure of herself.

  Vince held his hand out, palm up.

  “Wait—that was right?” Laura asked excitedly, high-fiving him.

  “Well, that’s what I got, too, so either it’s right or we’re both the same amount of stupid.” He shot her a sly grin.

  Laura grinned back and rewarded herself with a Hot Pocket.

  “Should we try another one?” Vince asked, flipping the page. He pushed up his gray long-sleeve shirt, revealing his muscular forearms. Laura’s eyes lingered on them a beat too long and she felt her face growing red. She averted her gaze. “Sure.”

  They raced each other, like they did in class. He scribbled; she scribbled. He coughed; she huffed. Finally they both yelled out “Done!” within mere seconds of each other.

  “What you got, Landry?” Vince asked.

  “Twelve,” Laura said, more confidently this time.

  Vince shook his head and dropped his pencil onto his notebook with a clatter. “You’re a genius. What are you even doing here . . . just stealing my Hot Pockets?”

  Laura let out a laugh. “Thank you. I feel like I’m finally getting it now. It’s a shame I didn’t do this well on the quiz.”

  “Maybe you were just having an off day. It happens.” He leaned back, running his hand through his dark hair. “Like, just the other day, I accidentally said coucher instead of cochon to a question in French class. So instead of talking about a pig, I basically asked Ms. Bellerose if I could sleep with her.”

  She burst out laughing again. “Oh my god!�
��

  Vince blushed. “Anywayyyy,” he drawled. “Back to you. So, you’re obviously smart. What college is going to be lucky enough to have you on campus next fall?”

  This again? “No college,” she said firmly.

  Vince’s eyebrows furrowed and he leaned closer. “Why, though? With your grades, you could probably get a scholarship.”

  “Why are you trying to plan my life?” Laura snapped. The truth was, she’d never given college much consideration. No one in her immediate or extended family had a degree, and they all seemed to be doing just fine. The only reason her husband was going was for football, and the idea of her applying felt disruptive, like even thinking about an alternate future could adversely affect her and Brian’s life.

  Vince held up his hands and gave her a placating look. “Okay, I’m definitely not trying to plan your life, and I’m sorry if you feel like I am.” He paused. “I just think you have so much—and forgive me if this sounds guidance-counselory—potential.”

  “I’m pretty sure Mrs. Walker has a poster in her office that says that exact thing.” Laura smiled in spite of herself.

  Vince chuckled. “Sorry, forget it.”

  “So, what’s your big plan, then?” she asked. “What are you gonna do when you graduate?”

  “Well . . .” Vince blushed, looking proud and embarrassed at the same time. “I just signed with Duke. They gave me a full scholarship.”

  “Wow, seriously? How come you never said anything?” Laura was floored. When Brian signed with LSU, he made sure everyone in the whole town knew. It was literally headline news in the Toulouse Town Talk. Ricky even hosted a party at the Sea Shack to celebrate.

  “I guess I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” Vince shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely excited.”

  “So, are you hoping to go pro?” she asked.

  He leaned in toward her slightly, as if he had a secret. “Just between us, I’m only doing the football thing so I can pay for school.”

  Laura didn’t know what to say to that. No one in Toulouse put education over football . . . not even the teachers. “Wow,” she repeated. “Well, good for you.”

  As they dove back into their schoolwork, Laura kept sneaking looks at Vince from under her lashes. She’d never met anyone like him before, someone who actually valued getting an education. It made his words weightier somehow. He thought she had potential. That she was bright.

  Brian constantly told her how beautiful and pretty she was. But it occurred to Laura that in all their years together, he’d never once praised her for being smart.

  21

  gabrielle

  “WHERE ARE YOU taking me?” Gabby asked Tony as they turned down a gravel road in the small town of Vacherie. When she’d met him at his apartment earlier that day, he said he had a surprise for her, but they’d been driving for more than an hour and—while she relished getting to spend extra alone time with Tony—Gabby was starting to get antsy.

  “Okay, I guess we’re close enough,” Tony said, keeping his eyes on the road. “Remember at Thanksgiving when you described your dream wedding? The antebellum mansion and old oak trees?”

  In the two and a half months since Thanksgiving, she had let herself relax into her role as a bride. Her new method of handling her situation was willful denial—it was all tomorrow’s problem. Willow had helped her set up her Pinterest board, which was now covered in floral arrangements and pictures of peach-colored bridesmaid dresses. Gabby had even gone old school and bought up all the bridal magazines Walmart had to offer. There was still a little voice inside her head screaming that she was a fraud, but it grew quieter with each day that passed without anyone finding out her secret.

  “Yeah.” She looked out the window as the car turned onto a narrow oak-tree-lined street.

  “Well, I found it!” A large white house appeared in the distance. He glanced up at her and smiled, his dark eyes crinkling around the edges. “I thought we could check it out and see what you think.”

  Gabby gasped as they made their way closer. A path lined with towering, ancient live oak trees led to a large, majestic antebellum home straight out of Gone With the Wind. Imposing two-story Greek revival columns framed the mansion’s wraparound porch and balcony. Moss grew on the oaks, the lawns were perfectly manicured, and green shutters bordered each window. She looked back at Tony, speechless.

  “What do you think?” he asked, pulling into the small parking lot on the side.

  “It’s straight out of my dreams,” Gabby replied. In fact, she had a photo of a home just like this in her wedding book. But that—along with everything in the wedding book—had always seemed like a far-off fantasy, a wedding for a different, luckier girl. Her heart swelled.

  Tony grinned. “Good.”

  As they got out of the car, a petite young woman in a beige tunic dress and cowboy boots came briskly down the path, carrying a clipboard and iPad. “Tony and Gabrielle?”

  “That’s us,” Tony said, shaking her hand.

  “I’m Missy, the event coordinator. It’s nice to meet y’all.” She ushered them toward the mansion, sliding a headset over her sleek black bob as she walked. “We have a wedding tonight and the bridal party will be here in twenty minutes, but that should be enough time for you to get a feel of the place.”

  They followed her up onto the porch, and with a grin, Missy instructed them to turn around and look out onto the front yard. Gabby’s jaw dropped. The view was even more beautiful from here. The lawn seemed endless, rolling across the horizon, and directly in the center of her view were the incredible, enormous oak trees. They bowed together as if kissing, forming a moss-laden path.

  “So, this is where most of our wedding ceremonies occur,” Missy said, gesturing to the porch and yard. “Gabby, you would walk down the oak alley from the back.” Gabby could picture it already: she would be in an elegant, flowing gown, walking slowly down the aisle. Maybe Tony’s father would agree to escort her and give her away. Tony would be waiting for her at the altar, flanked by his brother and all her best friends. “And then all of the guest chairs would be in the yard facing this porch.” Missy put her hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Tony would be waiting for you right here.”

  “Oh my god, it’s perfect,” Gabby said as she surveyed the setting. It was a dream she didn’t want to wake up from.

  Missy opened the large front door and they passed through the hall into an intimate seating area adorned with gold and silver antiques and a large chandelier. “This is where the groom’s party would get ready and hang out before the ceremony.” She nudged Tony’s arm. “And indulge in some prewedding mint juleps if they’d like.”

  Across the hall was an even bigger room with a cozy fireplace. The chairs and sofa were covered in blue velvet, and the small round coffee table was set with floral teacups. “And this is the bridal party area.” Gabby could see Claire, Laura, and Madison in there, helping her into her gown and toasting her with a glass of prewedding champagne. Willow would be a bridesmaid, too, and she’d fit right in with Gabby’s friends. Maybe Tony’s mom even would lend her a family heirloom as her “something old.”

  They followed Missy to a reception room in the back of the mansion, which must have once been a formal ballroom. It was decorated for the upcoming wedding, each table covered in white linens, gold dishes, and cutlery. The centerpieces were overflowing with lilies, and the dance floor glowed under soft lighting. Gabby put her hand on her chest. It was stunning.

  “How many people does it hold?” Tony asked.

  “You can comfortably fit two hundred people in the reception hall for a sit-down dinner,” Missy said. “But if you decide to have the reception outside, we can set up a tent and easily triple that number.” She turned her gaze directly at Tony, assessing him shrewdly. “I’m sure your family has a large invite list.”

  He nodded then turned to Gabby. “What do you think, babe?”

  She looked aroun
d. This was exactly what she’d always pictured for a wedding and now she could reach out and touch it. “I love it.”

  “Great!” Missy started tapping on her iPad. “Well, I do want to let you know I’m pretty much booked solid for the next two years,” she said. “But I do happen to have one spot available for April fifteenth of this year.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “Big cancellation. It was supposed to be a five-hundred-person wedding, but the bride’s mother was so controlling that the groom called it off, and the couple eloped to Vegas.” She shuddered. “I know the date is only a little over a month away, but since it happened so recently, I would imagine that all their vendors are still available.”

  Tony’s smile widened as he put his arm around Gabby’s waist. “What do you think? Should we reserve it now?”

  She looked around the room one more time. “It’s so . . . perfect,” she breathed.

  Tony squeezed her gently. “Then it’s done. We’ll book it,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

  “Okay, great!” Missy said, tapping her iPad with a stylus. “We’ve got a lot of things to discuss, but unfortunately I’ve got a bridal party coming in five minutes, so we’ll have to schedule another meeting to finalize all the details.” She handed Gabby her business card. “I have the date saved—you just have to put down a nonrefundable five-thousand-dollar deposit by Monday for me to keep it for you guys. Sound good?”

  Gabby nodded her head slowly, the word nonrefundable echoing in her mind. A deposit made the wedding feel real, and while this was what she wanted, the guilt she’d worked so hard to keep at bay since Thanksgiving came rushing back. What if something happened—what if Tony found out about everything—and they had to cancel it? A pit grew in her stomach.