Totlandia: Winter

by Josie Brown

  9:21 a.m.

  BFFs, thought Kelly Bryant Overton. That’s what Bettina and I have been calling each other, since, what, fifth grade? And yet, she has the audacity to pretend she’s doing me a favor by letting me compete to get into her damned club? I should have been accepted, Day One, no questions asked. With my name and connections, she should be honored that I even applied. But no. She’s making me jump through her sadistic hoops, as if I’m just another of her fawning sycophants! Well, no more. I’ve been choking on her purloined merde for too long. Now it’s time for her to eat mine—

  “Kelly, darling, are you even listening?” Bettina waved a manicured hand in front of Kelly’s face. “The waiter is asking if we’ll need a high chair for little Wills.” Presuming Kelly’s flushed cheeks meant her oldest and dearest friend was duly chastised, Bettina nodded in the direction of the waiter, albeit not at him. Kelly had seen her do this many times. Eye contact with inferiors was beneath Bettina. “I have to say, Kelly, it makes me uncomfortable when you stare at me in that manner. Sometimes I wonder if all that inbreeding between the Overtons and the Bryants was such a smart idea after all. I realize keeping your Gold Rush assets intact was the intent, but still!”

  “I’m sorry, Bettina.” Knowing her game plan was already in play, it was easy for Kelly to smile at the woman she hated most in the world. “I guess I’m just reveling in the good fortune of finally having you all to myself, if only for an hour of coffee and chitchat. I know how busy your schedule can be, what with club business and all. Frankly, I’m honored at the invitation.”

  “Ah yes, the club.” Bettina sighed. “It’s been a blessing and a curse. I take great pride in the fact that my little playgroup is so exclusive that we have twenty-five applicants for each spot! That mothers fight for the opportunity to join! That we can pick and choose the best and the brightest.”

  Now she’s comparing her snobby little mom-and-tots group to a presidential cabinet, Kelly thought. What nerve!

  “‘Chief Executive Mom.’ Sounds great when it’s coming from Parenting magazine, doesn’t it? Truth is, I’ve paid a heavy price for my success. It would be much easier if everyone pulled their own weight.” Bettina shook her head sorrowfully. “Which brings me to the reason I asked you to join me this morning. Even you, dear sweet Kelly, have been a bit of a letdown during this trial period. I mean, seriously, copying Lorna’s costume for Dante? How gauche! The application committee was certainly disappointed in both of you. Did you even consider how such blatant laziness reflected on me? They are quite aware of our history.” Bettina shrugged. “Maybe applying to the club was a mistake. If you want to resign, I’d understand. No harm, no foul. I’d miss you, but let’s face it, we see each other often enough outside of the club, what with all the charity functions.”

  Drop my application—and remove Wills from the club? Who the hell does she think she is, talking to me like that?

  She was Bettina Connaught Cross, the founder of the club, that’s who.

  At that very moment, everything Bettina had done to Kelly in the past paled in comparison.

  How she hated Bettina! She hated her for having made Kelly the butt of every joke in their middle school clique. And for stealing every high school boyfriend she’d ever had. But most of all, she hated the power Bettina held over Wills’s acceptance into the club. Well, she wasn’t putting up with any more of Bettina’s power trips. It was payback time. And Kelly, who understood Bettina better than anyone, knew just what to say and do to hurt her most. If her plan worked, Wills’s place in the club would be assured.

  Step one was already in motion. Now for step two.

  Even as Kelly’s smile grew wider, her eyes narrowed like melting shards of ice. “Bettina, please forgive me! You know I’d never do anything to embarrass you. Let’s face it, you are the club, and the club is you. Which is why it’s so hard for me to tell you…Oh, never mind.”

  “Kelly, dearest, please. Just get to the point. Your vapid attempt at coyness is so unbecoming.”

  Kelly paused, as if the burden of doing so was too much for her to bear. Finally, she sighed. “It’s Lorna. She’s—well, if I didn’t know better, I’d think she wants to undermine you to the rest of the Onesies.”

  “Lorna?” The smug look on Bettina’s face faded. “What do you mean?”

  Kelly cocked her head in contemplation. “In all honesty, she hasn’t said one good thing about you since we joined. Granted, she’s not so dumb as to call you a bitch or anything—at least, not when I’m around. Of course, she knows I revere you! But they all do hang together, even after our meet-ups. And to set the record straight, she was the ringleader in Halloween costume workshop. In fact, when one of the others brought up their concerns, she laughed them away. I think her exact words were, ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Bettina.’ Then she laughed. I know the others, like me, found it very disconcerting.” Kelly leaned in closer. “Don’t worry, I stood up for you. In fact, I told Lorna she was downright cruel.”

  ***

  Lorna—bad-mouthing me behind my back? Why, that little bitch! I can’t believe she has the guts!

  Still, it all made sense. Since Lorna had come into the family, there had always been a rivalry between the two. Matt had long been the favorite of their mother, Eleanor Morrow Connaught. Like Bettina, she felt Matt had married beneath him. Despite Lorna’s own personal academic accomplishments (she and Matt had met when he bestowed upon her the Connaught Scholarship at UCBerkeley), her own people were practically vagrants. But Eleanor’s joy over the birth of Matt and Lorna’s son, Dante, had softened her reticence against Lorna. Not only did she now tolerate her daughter-in-law, sometimes she actually complimented her.

  All of Bettina’s fears about Lorna were coming true: Lorna was becoming the daughter Eleanor never had.

  Sadly, Bettina knew in her heart that Eleanor never really liked her only daughter. Oh certainly her mother loved her. And Bettina knew that she amused her mother—ironically, usually during those times when Bettina was trying to impress her most. But invariably, her desperate attempts to impress Eleanor backfired. When this happened, Eleanor’s consternation took the form of gentle berating. Or worse, she’d compliment Lorna, knowing full well how much doing so got under Bettina’s skin.

  Bettina had no doubt that Lorna, too, was anxious for Eleanor’s approval. Any crumb her mother-in-law threw her way was a bitter pill to Bettina.

  Despite her long-term friendship with Kelly, it was in Bettina’s nature to be suspicious. “Kelly, why are you telling me this?”

  “Bettina, sweets, you are my dearest, oldest friend! I won’t just stand by and let her ruin all your hard work. And heaven knows should she succeed in planting doubts about your leadership abilities, it will put a kibosh on the esprit de corps you’ve worked so hard to build among us Probationary Onesies.”

  Bettina opened her mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. The last thing she wanted was what had already happened: instead of avoiding each other—or better yet, selling each other out—the Probationary Onesies had banded together.

  Kelly patted her hand. “You know I’ve got your back. I’ll be glad to let you know if she plans any other mutinies.”

  “And for your loyalty, Kelly, rest assured you’ll be duly rewarded with one of the probationary slots.”

  Kelly dropped her gaze to her hands, which were folded primly on her lap. “I would never want it said that favoritism played any role in the competition. All I ask, Bettina, is that you vote your conscience.”

  Bettina was touched enough to lean in for an air kiss. Instinctively, she patted Wills’s arm, too, only to have him slap her hand away and then laugh at her shocked expression.

  Oddly enough, Kelly laughed, too.

  Normally, Bettina would have chastised her for it, but considering her show of loyalty, she let it slip.

  Chapter 2

  Monday, 5 November

  10:23 a.m.

  The Tot Tales sto
ry time moderator at the Marina branch of the San Francisco Library certainly had her hands full reading over the bickering pair of three-year-olds whose short attention spans had deteriorated into wrestling in the back of the reading room. Otherwise, she had a captive audience of forty toddlers, including all of the PHM&T’s Probationary Onesies—Dante, Wills, Oliver, Amelia, Addison and Zoe.

  It had been Jillian’s turn to host today’s Onesies’ meet-up. Now that San Francisco’s weather had turned iffy, the fifty families who made up the Pacific Heights Moms & Tots Club congregated less frequently at Alta Plaza or Moscone or Lafayette parks on its playgroup days (Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays). Instead, the club split itself up by tot age—ten families per ‘class’—and met according to that day’s events.

  For example, while the Fivesies fed sardines to the recovering seals at the Marine Mammal Center, the Foursies found inspiration at the DeYoung Museum from the costumes worn by the ballet dancer, Rudolf Nureyev. And while the Threesies resisted the urge to swat the butterflies roaming freely through the California Academy of Science’s rainforest, the Twosies squealed in delight at a Disney on Ice show at the Cow Palace.

  The Legacy Onesies mothers—those who had older children in PHM&T’s other playgroups—were allowed to take their younger children on their older children’s field trips. To their way of thinking, that was a good thing. Until this ghastly contest was over, they had all shied away from getting close to any of the Probationary Onesies. Making a new friend only to have her exiled from the club two months later wasn’t worth the risk of any future awkwardness in a Whole Foods aisle or in some ladies’ room queue at the symphony’s annual Black and White Ball.

  This mindset left the Probationary Onesies to fend for themselves. Whereas all the other playgroups chose an event that required an outlay of cash, Jillian had chosen the tot reading because it was a freebie. Her own financial situation was dire, given her pending divorce. In fact, she was keeping the divorce a secret from the PHM&T applications committee, who would certainly frown upon it. Single moms weren’t welcomed into the club because they made those who enjoyed wedded bliss uncomfortable from all that bitterness emanating from the divorcees. Not to mention events where spouses were included would suddenly seem awkward.

  Jillian knew the wisdom of keeping her mouth shut.

  From the looks of things, the kids were enjoying themselves. The reader was quite animated. Oliver, Zoe, Dante, Amelia and Addison, as well as little Wills, had crawled on the mat until they were right next to her, enraptured with the way her voice brought the various characters alive.

  Their parents, too, listened quietly and happily. Soon though, another presence could be felt in the room. Jillian seemed the first to pick up on it. Glancing behind her, she noticed that Bettina stood silently behind them. From her blank expression, it was hard to determine how she’d rate the event.

  Jillian waved hesitantly. Bettina nodded at her, motioning her to rouse the other mothers and follow her into the library’s adjoining alcove.

  They were met with a grand smile. “So great to see you and your little ones having such a wonderful time! Who arranged your meet-up today?”

  The others nodded or murmured toward Jillian, who practically glowed.

  “Well done, Jillian,” Bettina continued. “But sadly there will be points off for the fact that the PHM&T toddlers are being exposed to children outside the club.”

  “Why?” Jillian asked, confused.

  “These so-called ‘free’ events have their price, too. It is usually an emotional cost. For example, the storyteller’s performance is somewhat uninspired. I’m guessing she has been booed at many a child’s birthday party. Not to mention the exposure of our little ones to the bad behavioral habits of some of the more rambunctious children in the room.”

  Lorna laughed. “Okay, so the storyteller will never be up for an Oscar, but I doubt our children picked up on that. All I know is that they’re having a great time. And I’m sure there are just as many rambunctious toddlers in the California Academy of Science’s rainforest—none of whom belong to PHM&T.”

  Right then and there, Lorna had made Kelly’s point for her—that she was undermining Bettina’s authority with the other Onesies moms.

  “My dear, getting into the Academy is not free. That makes a big difference.” After making her point to her sister-in-law, Bettina’s eyes swept over the other mothers. “You’ve been fairly warned.”

  The silence that followed had nothing to do with the fact that they were in a library, and everything to do with the fact that each of them was processing Bettina’s threat.

  “On a lighter note, I’ve come up with a wonderful way for you to choose the club-wide event you’ll host.” Bettina pulled out a small-lidded candy dish from her purse. Inside were tiny folded slips of paper. “Each of you will choose one of these. A budget is included. The necessary funds come from our annual dues. Except for the after-Thanksgiving potluck, the budget allows for food and decorations. However, you must decorate, coordinate, and host it on your own. And remember, creativity is key, but organization is just as important. The best part—your event’s success is yours, too!”

  What she didn’t say was implicit—fail, and you get axed.

  She held the dish out toward the other women.

  They exchanged wary looks. Then Ally nodded, timidly reaching into the small bowl. “It says ‘Parents’ Holiday Party, Friday, December 14th.’”

  “Wonderful! What could be better? Food, folks, and fun!” Bettina continued, “I’ll email you with the details of the location. By the way, your budget allows for a caterer.”’

  After the chastisement she’d just received, Jillian considered waiting until last, but then thought better of it. Picking next would give her more options. She reached in, pulling out a tiny slip. “‘Santa’s Visit to the Children, Monday, December 10th.’” She sighed with relief.

  Lorna frowned with concern. “Um…doesn’t the club have a few members who aren’t Christian? How do they feel about Santa?”

  “In fact, Jillian, your event should also include Kwanzaa and Hanukkah rites, and some Christmas caroling. In other words, think multi-cultural! But no need for Hanukkah to run the full eight days, since our children’s attention spans are at the most an hour or two.”

  Jillian nodded slowly. Everyone was sure she hadn’t been mulling the details of an eight-day extravaganza. Still, it was good that Bettina had spelled it out for her.

  “My turn,” Kelly said. After pulling a folded slip, she frowned. “Oh. The After-Thanksgiving Potluck.”

  “Easy-peasy,” Bettina assured her. “We hold it at the Presidio Golf Club’s café. No need for a caterer because members bring the food, which you’ll coordinate by monitoring PHM&T’s online dish sign-up sheet. In the last week, you’ll arbitrarily assign a dish category to those laggards who haven’t signed up. And you’ll be in charge of decorating the clubhouse with a Thanksgiving theme. By yourself, of course.”

  Kelly’s smile faded. Obviously, she hadn’t counted on a task with so many moving parts.

  “My turn!” Jade put her hand into the bowl and pulled out a tiny slip. “Oh! I have the club’s pumpkin patch visit.”

  “Excellent,” Bettina said. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job explaining the lore around fall harvest. Lots of hands-on fun for our children, what with pony rides and the cornfield maze.”

  “Last but not least, I’m sure,” said Lorna, reaching in for the last slip of paper. “I have the coordination of the Recipe Book fundraiser.”

  “Aren’t you lucky! With your top-notch organizational skills, it should be a breeze,” Bettina exclaimed. “Let’s see, that means you’ll be in charge of editing the recipes for our cookbook fundraiser. Just think, Lorna! You’ll get so many great ideas to enhance those tired old standbys you insist on preparing for the holidays! Oh, that’s not to imply that your own culinary skills are lacking in any way. It’s nice to polish up on them now and then.
You know, just to keep from getting stale.”

  As if validating this premise, Kelly gave Lorna a sympathetic pat on the wrist.

  Lorna almost jerked her arm away. She had a niggling feeling she shouldn’t trust Kelly, despite the woman’s numerous attempts to ingratiate herself to Lorna. It was obvious to everyone that Kelly and Bettina were close. And just the other day, after Chakra’s dismissal, Bettina had asked Kelly to stay behind while the rest of the group dispersed.

  No, something was not right. She could just feel it. Still, if she acted suspicious of Kelly just because she and Bettina were close, she might be hurting her chances of staying in the club.

  Lorna smiled, masking her frustration. “You’re right, Bettina. And since it’s the club’s most important charity fundraiser of the year, I’ll do my best to make it an even bigger success than it’s ever been. It’s raised so little money in the past.”

  There, she’d thrown down the gauntlet. She’d best Bettina with her pet project.

  Bettina’s worried scowl was priceless.

  6:01 p.m.

  “Look at my little ballerina twirl,” Bettina declared as her four-year-old daughter, Lily, spun through Eleanor’s living room. The unadulterated joy in Bettina’s voice made her family—her brother Matthew, her sister-in-law Lorna, and Eleanor—smile with relief.

  Usually Bettina’s joy came at someone else’s expense.

  Lily stopped pirouetting just long enough to say, “Oh, Mother! You can be sooooo bourgeois! It truly is embarrassing.”

  Matt laughed so hard that beer spurted through his nose.

  “Listen to Lily! ‘Bourgeois’? I am so proud of you, my little darling, for your perfect accent—and for knowing the proper use of that word. As for you, Matt, please control yourself! You always set such a bad example for the children.” Eleanor’s admonishment came with a loving kiss to Dante’s forehead. The whole time they were delaying dinner for Art—who was late yet again—she’d had the little boy in her lap. The ever-changing diorama outside her mansion’s big picture window of sky, bay, and Golden Gate Bridge held endless fascination for her youngest grandchild.