Undaunted, she took another sip and walked quickly back to the sitting room, waiting to see what new revelations would surface.
“What I wanted to talk to you about was Lilah,” Noreen announced as Mimi took her seat again.
“Lilah? I thought we were going to talk about you guys?” She moved her drink between the two women who sat in matching chairs next to each other. Mimi expected Noreen to be swallowed up by Vivian, the business dynamo, but like a shape-shifter, Noreen seemed to have acquired some extra heft.
Noreen glanced over at Vivian, who raised her eyebrows before letting out a riotous laugh. “Well, that would really put it to Conrad.”
“Don’t pick on Conrad,” Noreen warned her sternly.
Vivian was silent immediately.
Noreen turned and focused on Mimi. “Vivian and I are just friends—good friends from long ago.”
“Oh,” Mimi said, chastised. Truth be told, she was disappointed. She could just imagine the familial complications.
“No, it was about Lilah that I asked you to come over,” Noreen repeated.
Mimi rolled her eyes. “What is it about Lilah? Everyone and his little brother wants to talk about Lilah.”
“Don’t be petulant. You sound like a child.”
“And you sound like you’re my mother.”
“I’m not, but there are times when you need one.” Noreen breathed in slowly and eyed her glass. “But those are issues that you need to deal with. For now, I need to talk to you as one adult to another.”
Mimi nodded.
“I am interested in doing more with my life than what you see here. Contribute in a larger way.”
“Honestly, there are only so many cookies she can bake,” Vivian interjected.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with being a strong supporter of the PTA. It’s just that it’s gotten to a point that it’s not enough for me,” Noreen explained. “And not only is that not good for me, it’s not good for my daughter, and not good for my husband. So I need to do something. Something that uses my mind before I go crazy.”
Mimi leaned forward. “And this has something to do with Lilah?” She tipped her head.
Noreen pursed her lips. “I can see what you’re thinking. Some rich suburban mom wants to play philanthropist.”
“Something like that,” Mimi admitted. She took another sip of brandy.
“Then you sorely underestimate what Noreen’s capable of,” Vivian announced, her deep voice cutting Mimi’s suspicious attitude to the quick. “She graduated number one in her class, you realize?”
“No, I had no idea. I just always thought of you as…as…”
“As a stepmother, and before that as a nanny,” Noreen supplied. “That’s all right. I’m proud to be married to your father. There’s nothing wrong with that. And as for being a nanny, that was a decision that was right for me at the time. I was reeling from the shock of my father’s death, and being away from the confines of an office and in a different country was the best thing for me. It was impossible to be morose around a child so full of life, and trust me, Press was a handful—in a good way. In any case, I don’t believe I need to apologize for my decision. I happen to think taking care of children is an extremely valuable job in this world.” When she spoke, her voice was noticeably an octave lower than the good-natured cheerleading tones she normally employed.
Mimi was quickly learning to reassess her view of Noreen as the spoiled trophy wife. “So what do you have in mind?” she asked.
“Good question. First off, I’ve had to evaluate what I have to offer. A quick and agile mind. A degree in finance. A keen interest in children, particularly young girls. Besides English, I’m fluent in French and Spanish.”
“You’re passable in Italian, too, if I remember correctly from our trip to Venice,” Vivian said.
“Okay, Italian. But I wouldn’t want to overstate my case.”
Mimi swallowed. Noreen’s intellectual résumé was going to quickly surpass hers, and she was too intensely competitive to feel comfortable about that.
“Plus I have access to people in high places,” Noreen concluded.
“Very high places, and with expansive pockets,” Vivian added. “We all know that Conrad will be more than happy to open up his checkbook if it means keeping you happy.”
“I’m also counting on you, you know.” Noreen addressed her friend. Then she leaned forward, crossing her arms. She tapped the toe of her Tory Burch ballet slipper on the rug. From upstairs, the soundtrack of the children’s DVD lightly penetrated into the room.
“Ever since I heard about Lilah getting the award, I’ve been researching her organization,” Noreen said with great deliberation. “The cell phone initiative is certainly a sound one, given her mission statement to elevate the health care of women and their children. I understand that new plans for microfinancing have also been suggested—”
“Where did you hear that? That’s exciting,” Vivian said.
“I have my sources,” Noreen answered. “In any case, I think that the move into microfinancing is more problematic, especially in light of the possibilities for exploitation by nefarious groups on the ground. That kind of program requires constant monitoring.”
“Corruption is a major issue in Congo.” Mimi felt obliged to contribute.
“You’re absolutely right,” Noreen agreed. “You see, I want to become involved with Lilah’s organization—as a financial officer. I don’t look at this as some part-time star turn. I have personal experience living in Africa—I lived there as a child—and my degrees combine financial management with public health issues. I believe I can help set up a more viable financial underpinning to Sisters for Sisters. Yes, there’ll still be the road races, and grant writing is a fact of life for a nonprofit. But what is essential for stability is the establishment of an endowment. And that’s where I can contribute my expertise—with that and also in evaluating the management of existing programs to maximize resources. All of that together ties into focusing clearly on long-term strategic planning.”
“In other words, you want to take charge,” Mimi said. “I’m not sure how that is going to go over.”
“Not at all. I want to help Lilah reach her potential. No matter what, she is still the driving force, the visionary. What I can bring, though, is a more professional business model to the organization. So? Do you think she might be interested, or is she so vested in her work that she will see me as an intruder?”
Mimi thought about it. “If you had asked me six months ago, I would have said she’d be reluctant to share her baby with anyone. Now, though, I almost get a sense that she needs to share the burden, that she looks dragged down by the responsibility. That…that…”
“That maybe she might like a life?” Noreen suggested.
“That maybe she might like to have time to share her life with someone else?” Vivian inquired judiciously.
Noreen looked at her. “You had someone in mind.”
“Justin Bigelow.”
“Justin?” Mimi looked surprised. “He’s just a good-time boy. Great-looking, I agree, but for someone like Lilah—dedicated, serious…”
Vivian raised an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised. Besides, a little bit of party boy is something we could all probably use.”
Mimi laughed. “Okay. Let’s forget Justin for a while—as hard as that may be. On the subject of Lilah’s nonprofit, and from the perspective of someone with no business expertise, what you suggest seems to make sense. But let me get one thing straight. You called me in to set up a meeting with Lilah?”
“No, I’m capable of picking up the phone or tracking her down myself. In fact, it’s only right and proper that I speak to her myself, given what I’m asking. It’s just that I wanted to get your r
ead on Lilah’s reaction before I approached her. I truly believe that given my background I can bring a real passion to what she’s doing. And even though I might not have the longest résumé…”
“Don’t underestimate your professional experience,” Vivian interrupted. “Don’t you still get calls from people at the World Bank?”
“That’s just a bit of consulting here and there. Nothing as grandiose as you imply,” Noreen dismissed.
Vivian coughed. “Please, the World Bank can call anyone it wants, and they called you.”
Noreen shrugged, then turned to Mimi. “Expertise is one thing. The truly important thing is that I want to convey my real eagerness to Lilah directly.”
“So, my work here is done?” Mimi rose.
Noreen held out her hand. “Actually, no. You see, if my plan works out, I will be mixing in travel with endowment initiatives and funding activities here in Grantham.”
Mimi slowly lowered herself to the love seat again. “Travel?”
“Yes. I’d like to be hands-on. As soon as possible. The first thing would be to go to Congo and observe directly the effectiveness of Lilah’s organization.”
“Which means…?” Mimi waited.
“Which means that Brigid will not have a full-time mom. I have already broached the subject with Conrad.”
Mimi snorted. “I bet he loved the idea of that. You don’t need to tell me—he proposed getting a nanny.”
“I know where you’re going with that, Mimi. But for once, I think you’re wrong. I don’t expect your father to give up on our marriage so easily.”
“She’s right,” Vivian said solemnly. “The guy’s gaga about Noreen here.”
“No, while I might agree to using babysitters, especially once school’s out, I don’t think a live-in nanny is the answer, nor totally necessary. Unlike some mothers, I don’t believe in shipping children Brigid’s age off to sleepaway camp. Besides, there are times when a child needs to be able to lie back in the grass and just look at the clouds and do nothing. Boredom can be very important.
“So, I have informed Conrad that I expect him to pitch in and help with Brigid,” Noreen went on. “He can use some of his vacation time if necessary, and telecommute when possible. There’s no reason why he can’t get her off to school in the morning and make her lunch, then go into the office a bit later. He has a driver anyway, so it’s not as if he is tied to a train schedule. Frankly, the man could afford to retire, but I don’t think that is going to happen anytime soon.”
“He wouldn’t know what to do,” Vivian said. “Besides, can you imagine him home all the time? I know my mother is going crazy with my dad home all day now that he’s retired. There’re only so many Rotary Meetings to go to in a week.” Vivian shook her head.
“So you’re planning to lean on your friends a bit to help with all the chauffeuring, if I understand you correctly?” Mimi asked. “I mean, it’s not like you don’t have a cook and housekeeper to keep the house running and all. And they could pick up the slack as far as Brigid’s concerned.”
“You’re right. I’m very lucky that I can afford full-time help. But I wouldn’t think of asking the staff to do more than their job description. That would be exploitation.”
All of a sudden Mimi had a weird thought. “You do know that I work full-time and live in Manhattan, and that my job is very demanding and requires me to take off at a moment’s notice to all parts of the world?” She tried to preempt where she thought Noreen was going.
“I am well aware of that. But I also know that summer is the slow time for the television correspondence business. Rerun time. I also happen to know that you haven’t taken a vacation in well over two years, except for this little jaunt to Grantham.”
“And you know this because?” Mimi asked suspiciously.
“She has friends in high places, very high places, or haven’t you heard?” Vivian said biting back a smile.
“Well, it’s true.” Noreen shrugged. “A woman in my Pilates class on Sunday is a fairly high-up executive at your network—no names here—and she’s very informed about the business.”
There were only so many women in top-level positions in television news, and Mimi had no trouble guessing to whom she was referring. She wasn’t at all comfortable with this underground Pilates spy network. “So what you want me to do is take my vacation time to be a babysitter?” she shot back, annoyed.
“No, I’m asking you to spend some of your vacation gaining something you’ve never had.”
“What? The opportunity to learn how to make beaded bracelets?” She raised her arm and shook her wrist. Actually, it was kind of cool, not that she was about to admit it right now.
“No, I’m offering you the chance to find out what it’s like to be a valuable member of a family—to experience unqualified love and affection from a sibling. Can you top that?”
For once, Mimi didn’t have a rejoinder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
JUSTIN AND LILAH SAT ON the window seat on the landing above the ground floor at Lion Inn. A bottle of wine stood between them, empty wineglasses in their hands.
“Care for some fresh air for a change?” Justin asked, nodding toward the window. Even though they were removed from the bombardment of sound and the sweltering crush of bodies on the first floor, Justin still had to raise his voice to be heard.
Lilah nodded, and he unhooked one of the leaded glass casement windows and led the way to the fire escape. Lilah followed, letting Justin help her clamber down to the narrow metal grid structure.
“You show a girl all the exciting places,” she smirked as she settled down on the platform.
“A million-dollar view,” he argued with a sweep of his arm.
It was true. Now under the stars, they gazed out over the rooftops of the campus and the town of Grantham two blocks beyond. Intermittent whoops and hollers from within interrupted the serenity of the night but couldn’t entirely chase it away.
Justin crouched down as he balanced the glasses in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other. Lilah sat next to him, crossing her legs to fit in the narrow space. He handed her a glass and she held it as he poured. Then he poured himself one, settled the bottle behind him on the stone ledge of the mullioned window and turned to clink glasses. “To your award,” he toasted.
“To our West Side Story moment here on the fire escape,” she answered in return.
“Please don’t tell me you want me to sing. I’m practically tone-deaf.” He took a sip.
“What?” she asked in mock horror. “There’s something the great and wonderful Justin Bigelow can’t do?”
“You’d be surprised at the things I can’t do.”
“What do you mean?” Lilah rested her head against the stucco wall. “I mean, didn’t you even go to the Olympics? Talk about rarified atmosphere.”
“No, I quit after we won at the International Championships in Italy. I decided it was about time to get on with my life. I’d already taken two extra years after college to row full-time and eke out an existence as a part-time coach at the National Rowing Center here in Grantham. Enough was enough.”
“And now you’re some hotshot teacher according to Noreen and my mom. I mean, I’m not surprised you’re terrific at your job—but I got to admit I was a little surprised. Especially since…ah…since…”
He could sense the hesitation in her words. “What you mean to say is you’re surprised given that I have dyslexia, right?”
Lilah nodded.
“Your mom told you?”
She nodded again. “I never knew.” Then she rushed to add, “Maybe she shouldn’t have told me. I mean, before, when we knew each other in college, you never told me.”
“Because I didn’t know then, either.”
“Didn’t know?”
“I had an idea, but I didn’t know for sure.”
“But didn’t your parents have you tested when you were little? They’re both highly educated. They must have been aware.”
He laughed again. This time it wasn’t as funny. “I think being educated does not necessarily correspond to awareness. Besides, I think it’s fair to say that they were in denial, especially my father. You see, he—” Justin wanted to choose his words carefully “—he took my condition personally. He simply couldn’t imagine that a son of his could have a learning disability. It had to be that I was lazy, that I didn’t apply myself to my studies. It was much more reasonable to assume that I was rebelling against him, because when I took aptitude tests or in subjects not requiring heavy reading, I always did well.”
“You call that reasonable?” Lilah sounded shocked.
He shrugged. “Well, if truth be told, he was right. I was rebelling against him. It was a role I slid into naturally since my older sister was the brilliant student who soaked up Latin and Greek when she was barely ten, so brilliant that my parents decided to homeschool her to allow her to advance at this hypersonic rate. Whereas I—”
“Instead demonstrated athletic superiority and social skills not usually associated with nerdy academic types,” Lilah interrupted.
“Exactly.”
“So when did you realize your— I’m not quite sure what dyslexia is really,” she admitted.
“It’s what’s called a developmental reading disorder. Basically, my brain has difficulties processing graphic symbols, separating out the sounds in words and seeing the relationship between the sounds and combinations of letters.”
On Common Ground (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 15
