by Josie Brown
Bettina tossed her menu aside. She had hoped that Lorna’s appeasement to meet her for lunch meant they’d be air kissing and making up. Granted, Lily should not have hit Dante. And certainly, Bettina felt bad that her little nephew had been walloped hard. No doubt, Eleanor blamed her for Lorna avoiding them all. But no way was she going to grovel. “You’re right. The last thing you need is to solidify those few extra pounds you’re working so hard to get off. In sister solidarity, I’ll order a beet salad. It’s supposedly divine. But I’ll be adding the turkey pot pie, which I hear is also a treat. Don’t feel you have to do likewise.”
Lorna’s smile disappeared. She wasn’t in a great mood to begin with, what with Dante’s testing confirming what Dr. Remfeld suspected, that his autism may be quite severe. Now, she had to put up with Bettina’s snide asides? Nope, wasn’t going to happen. “Other than wanting to give me your opinion about my weight, why have you invited me to lunch?”
“I just want to say again that I’m sorry for the...for the accident. I’m sure you realize that Lily is mortified! As well she should be. I presume Dante is just fine? Otherwise, you would have mentioned it, am I right?”
She tried to keep the tone in her voice light, but in truth, she was sweating Lorna’s answer. The bump on Dante’s head had been tender to the touch. The pained moans coming from her little nephew still haunted her.
And Lorna’s silence these past few days scared her. If the shoe had been on the other foot, she would have sought every opportunity possible to rub Lorna’s nose in the merde caused by Lily’s duress.
But no, Lorna said nothing at all. She was staring off into space, as if she hadn’t heard a word Bettina had said.
Well, fuck it then. She’d done enough. She, Bettina Connaught Cross, had apologized. It was a first for her. Never again.
Now it was time for Lorna to accept it, to say that yes, she knew her four-year-old niece hadn’t meant it. That Dante was just fine. That things were back to normal.
Because until they were—until Lorna was willing to come back into the family fold—Bettina would stay on Eleanor’s shit list. Thank goodness she’d had the idea to do her groveling far from Pacific Heights and the Marina, where they might be spotted by other club members.
Bettina was resisting the urge to snap her fingers in front of Lorna’s eyes when she heard a waitress ask, “Ladies, do you have any questions about our entrees?”
Instead of answering, Lorna buried her head in her menu.
Bettina couldn’t stand her cold shoulder anymore. Without looking up at the woman, she answered, “The duck confit salad.”
Lorna didn’t look up either, but added, “The beet salad, please. Unlike my friend here, I’m not into eating crow. Excuse me, I mean duck.”
At that moment, Bettina knew she’d done the right thing by asking Kelly to keep an eye on her sister-in-law. The sooner the club got rid of Lorna, the better. And if Eleanor ever questioned why Lorna hadn’t made the cut, she could just say she was out-voted by the other club members.
And good riddance.
***
At first, Lorna couldn’t believe her eyes. Jillian was working at Claxton—as a waitress. Worse yet, she was walking over to their table, albeit as slow as possible.
Jillian was also so pale that Lorna thought she might faint before she got to them. Obviously, she was mortified for having been spotted there.
Lorna had planned on telling Bettina that she wasn’t upset. Since the incident, Eleanor had been calling incessantly for word on her grandson. She could imagine that Eleanor was still very worried about the little boy, despite Matt’s assurances that Dante was fine, just fine. Lorna could only imagine how the residue of Eleanor’s worry had colored her relationship with Bettina.
It was why Bettina had invited Lorna to lunch in the first place, no doubt. But after Bettina’s crack about Lorna’s weight, any good will she had toward her sister-in-law had melted as quickly as the ice in their water glasses.
And then she had noticed Jillian.
Jillian was smart enough to stand just out of Bettina’s peripheral vision. It was an unnecessary precaution. As a rule, Bettina’s never deemed restaurant personnel worthy of her time, let alone a glance. Lorna thought it was best to follow suit so that Jillian wouldn’t feel the need to come clean.
In fact, Lorna’s line about the crow served two purposes: it let Bettina know where they stood, and it kept her glare directly on Lorna. Jillian was able to run back to the kitchen with their orders without Bettina noticing her at all.
Their plates were delivered by a different server. For the most part, the meal was eaten in silence. When Jillian came back to ask if they’d be having dessert, Lorna’s solid “No, I’m trying to keep my girlish figure” was countered with Bettina’s “Just the check.”
Jillian closed her eyes in relief. Lorna was sure she was saying a prayer of thanks.
A moment later, and as silently as a ghost, Jillian slipped the check beside Bettina.
After the bill was paid, Lorna let the valet take Bettina’s stub first. They stood together under the awning as a steady rain pounded down onto it. Finally, Bettina murmured, “Eleanor is looking forward to your sausage and cranberry stuffing.”
Lorna shrugged. “Tell her there may be a change of plans.”
Before Bettina could ask her what that meant, the valet pulled up to the curb with her Mercedes and jumped out quickly with his umbrella in order to hustle her into it.
Lorna waited until she drove off, then walked back inside.
***
“So, you did recognize me.” Jillian’s voice quivered with dread.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything. And Bettina is so oblivious that she didn’t even notice.”
Jillian’s shoulders compressed, but her eyes clouded with tears. “My husband—he left us the day the girls and I got the club invitation. Until my lawyer gets him to come through with child support—”
Lorna patted her arm. “It doesn’t matter. We do what we have to do.”
“But if the club finds out I’m single—”
Lorna looked her in the eye. “There’s no need for anyone else to know.”
“But we’re still on probation.”
Lorna knew what Jillian was trying to say. She and Lorna were in a competition, and outing her would secure a slot for Lorna—as well as the others—once and for all.
“We all have our secrets, don’t we?” Lorna shrugged. “Besides, you’d cover for me, too, right?”
Jillian’s way of saying yes was to clinch her in a hug.
Chapter 5
Friday, 9 November
“What’s up with Dante?”
Matt’s question sent a tremor of dread up Lorna’s spine.
Don’t ask me. Please don’t ask me…because I can’t tell you. Not yet. Not yet.
She turned and smiled up at him, innocently. “He has a low-grade fever. No biggie.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Seriously, is that what the doctor said?”
“Yes.” She tried to keep the anger out of her voice. “I already told your mother I didn’t take him to our regular pediatrician. I went to a specialist. Everything is just fine. Why don’t you trust me?”
“Because Dante isn’t—he isn’t—I don’t know. Maybe I’m just imagining things.”
A part of Lorna wanted Matt to come out and say it, that he’d noticed Dante wasn’t normal. But if he did, it would lead to the truth that she’d known this, and had hid it from him. Then she’d have to tell him why—because she was in denial about it and would stay that way until Dr. Remfeld gave her a definitive reason to accept the worst about Dante.
Only after she accepted it could she grieve for Dante.
And help Matt through his own denial, acceptance, and grief.
Please, Matt, she prayed, don’t ask. Not yet. While there is still hope.
Or at least, let me grieve in peace.
As if reading her mind, Matt
kissed her gently, and sighed. “When he sleeps, he looks like an angel, doesn’t he?”
She nodded, but didn’t say a word. Otherwise, she’d start crying, and their private hell would begin.
Chapter 6
Sunday, 11 November
When it came to her cookbook challenge, Lorna considered herself lucky in one regard: all the club members were so fearful of crossing Bettina that they turned in their recipes in no time flat.
Every day while Dante napped, the project moved closer to completion. She had already located a wonderful website for royalty-free photography, where she chose a picture of a table filled with wonderful holiday dishes. After collating the recipes into the necessary categories—appetizers, main courses, side dishes, and desserts—she began the momentous process of editing and tending to the book’s layout.
Besides making the book visually appealing, Lorna had an epiphany that would increase book sales in a way that the club hadn’t done previously—she would submit it to the numerous online bookstores. Surely, a fundraiser for charity would appeal to those cooks with big hearts. And certainly PHM&T’s application committee would appreciate an increase in the project’s revenue.
She was sorting through the recipes for side dishes when she discovered one that sounded familiar: a farro salad adorned with oven-roasted grapes. It had been submitted by a Legacy Onesie mother, Hillary Trumball, whose daughter was Ava.
Where have I seen that before? Lorna wondered. Then it came to her. It was one of the recipes she’d bookmarked for herself, on the Martha Stewart website.
Quickly she logged onto the site. Yep, there it was.
I can’t include this, Lorna thought. If I do and someone else recognizes it, she and her children will be kicked out of the club.
Not only that, Bettina will claim it’s my fault.
She pulled up her PHM&T directory and scrolled until she found Hillary’s telephone number. As Lorna dialed it, she wondered how she was going to break the news to one of the women who had been so quick to snub her and the other Probationary Onesies that she’d been caught in a lie that could get her ousted from the club.
Before she could come to any conclusion, Hillary was murmuring a cheery greeting in her ear.
“Hi, Hillary. This is Lorna Connaught.”
“Oh. Hi.” The wariness in Hillary’s tone was cause for more hesitation.
“Listen, Hillary,” Lorna stuttered, words tripping out of her mouth. She took a deep breath and began again. “I was coordinating the recipes for the fundraiser cookbook when I came across yours. As delightful as it is, I feel you may have sent in the wrong one.”
“What do you mean? I put down ‘side dish’ as my category—”
“Yes, I have you down for that, too. It’s just that…Well, I just feel that you may want to substitute another submission.”
“Why?” From the fear in Hillary’s question, Lorna realized it wasn’t a challenge, but a plea.
Of course she knew why.
“I’m sure it was a simple mistake, but you sent in a Martha Stewart dish.”
A sob came first, then in a whisper, “Are you…are you going to tell Bettina?”
“Like I said, I’m sure your submission was a mistake. If you want to make a substitute, I’ll be happy to include it instead.”
Hillary’s silence seemed to last forever. “Thank you, Lorna. And I am so sorry!”
“Hillary, please. Mistakes happen.”
“No! I don’t mean about the recipe. I mean, yes, I’m sorry I was so stupid to think that I could get away with it. But with the kids and the dog and Gerald’s company in flux—oh my God! Please, just forget I said that. If Bettina ever found out—”
“I…I understand, Hillary. I hope you know I’d never...It’s just between us.”
“That’s what I want to thank you for, Lorna. For not being like the rest of us.”
Lorna couldn’t help but laugh.
Hearing her, Hillary giggled, too. “I just want you to know that no matter what Bettina and Kelly say about you, I’ll let the others know it’s not true.”
Lorna was too stunned to answer her. What the hell were they saying?
“And I hope you know that if we aren’t so nice sometimes, it’s because…well, I guess we’re jealous. You and the other probationers seem close, so happy. Considering what you’re going through, we can’t figure out how or why.”
Only after she hung up did Lorna realize what she should have said to Hillary—that she, Ally, Jillian, and Jade had figured out that their respect for each other was much more important than the club’s silly rules.
She also realized that Hillary would find that hard to believe.
Sometimes she didn’t believe it herself.
Chapter 7
Tuesday, 13 November
9:11 a.m.
Jillian’s attorney, Tom Lutz, was not one for small talk. But even over the phone, she could hear the wince in his voice. “So, here’s the thing. Your ex is balking at the child support because he claims that the kids aren’t his.”
Jillian couldn’t believe her ears. “What? Is he crazy?”
“That depends. Did you happen to have a thing for his brother, Jeff?”
Jillian bit her lip as she thought of how she should answer Lutz. She closed the door almost all the way so that the girls couldn’t hear her. Not that they’d be listening, since Sesame Street was on. “It…was nothing. He’s an immature asshole. He slept on our couch a few nights.”
“According to Jeff, you slept with him on at least one occasion.”
“That’s ridiculous! I mean…well, yes, once I fell asleep beside him. You see, Scott travels a lot, to and from Southeast Asia. We had just bought the house, and since Jeff was between jobs, it was Scott’s idea that Jeff sleep in the basement au pair suite. One night, Jeff and I…we had been playing a silly drinking game. We were watching an old Star Trek episode and every time Spock raised his brow, we took a swig of wine. I guess we both got a little drunk.” Her mind was racing. Did she sound like a blithering idiot? Worse yet, did she sound guilty?
“And?”
“And…we kissed.”
“Jeff claims that’s not all. According to a deposition Scott’s attorney sent over today, you and Jeff also had sex.”
“He’s lying! I swear.” She wracked her brains. Jeff always had a crush on her. She knew it, and Scott knew it. Sometimes she teased Scott about it, saying she’d chosen the wrong brother. Certainly there was chemistry between her and Jeff…
The sort of chemistry that came with knowing you were desired by someone when your husband was too busy to notice you. But when it came to that night, all she remembered was waking up on the couch with Jeff’s stinking feet in her face.
When Scott got home two days later, he agreed to her request to try to get pregnant. Her wish came true soon after that. But still, that was no reason to pawn off his daughters as his brother’s children! Jillian gritted her teeth, “We did nothing. I mean it.”
“Okay. Then we’ll take our own depositions and submit it to the court.”
She nodded vigorously, even though Lutz couldn’t see how adamant she was about his suggestion. “I’ll give the girls a paternity test if need be.”
“That may or may not help. All siblings share a gene pool that’s 99.95 percent similar. That point-five-percent is the determinant. We can request to meet them at a lab for DNA samples. You and the girls should be tested beforehand..”
“What if one of the men refuses?”
“It would make it harder for the test to stand up in court without the conclusive evidence of both tests, but the judge will also weigh any refusal for DNA testing against Scott, since he was the one who brought up the issue in the first place.”
Jillian stared down at the phone. Suddenly she was very scared. “Mr. Lutz, Scott’s maneuver involves the child support portion of our case, right? But it won’t also affect our alimony request, will it?”
“I’m
not going to lie to you, Jillian. It might, considering the pre-nup you signed has an infidelity clause.”
“But I’m telling the truth! Nothing happened between Jeff and me!”
“The tests will bear that out. With Jeff, anyway.” He sighed. “In the meantime, we’ll set up the ones for you and the girls as soon as possible and demand that the men also be tested. All you can do now is sit tight.”
Sit tight? Jillian had less than two hundred dollars in her bank account, and the mortgage was due again in three weeks.
Not to mention Christmas was around the corner.
Jillian shut the door all the way so the girls couldn’t hear her cry.
She gave herself five minutes for a pity party before resuming her day, which always started with a five-mile run. By the time she had laced up her sneakers and stashed Amelia and Addison in their twin stroller, her fear had hardened into anger at Scott. How dare he question whether the girls were his or not! In any case, his argument for joint custody just went out the door. Knowing that the girls were all hers gave her immeasurable solace.
10:48 a.m.
Maybe Ally should have thought it strange when she received a call from Ellis’s secretary telling her that there was no need for her to come into the office today. Instead, she rejoiced by taking Zoe on a long walk on a beautiful day.
She was passing Giggle on Chestnut Street when she saw a cute little cardigan sweater in the window, but it looked smaller than Zoe’s current size. “Do you have that same sweater in eighteen months?” she asked the shopgirl.
“Let me go check in the back,” the woman answered.
In the meantime, Zoe had crawled under the feet of a pregnant woman who was flipping through the boys’ infantwear rack. “Excuse me, would you mind picking up your daughter?”
Ally scooped up Zoe and placed her on her hip. “I’m sorry. She gets really excited when we come in here. She loves all the toys, especially the activity room in back.”
The woman shrugged, as if doing so would make Ally and Zoe disappear. Zoe seemed to have other ideas. She reached out for the woman’s extended tummy with both hands, but the woman backed away as if the toddler had cooties.
