“I still don’t get the point of all this,” Bianca said as they took their seats.
“You’re here to get a feel for what’s happening. Watch the girls and their body language. Who wants to be here and who doesn’t? Who has the dream and who is being forced into it because Mom never got the chance to compete when she was little?”
“How will I be able to tell that?”
Margot smiled at her. “You are a very keen observer of people. You’ll know before I will, but I’ll show you what I mean. When you get nervous, you tighten up and look for a distraction. At some point the need to change the narrative takes over and the results can be—”
“Disastrous?”
“I was thinking more that they spiral out of control. I’m hoping by watching these girls, you’ll feel what they’re feeling and see how they handle it. Or don’t. There will be tears and tantrums and outbursts. Sometimes seeing a situation play out in someone else’s life brings us clarity.”
Margot shrugged. “I’m winging it, Bianca. So this may be a colossal waste of time.”
“I’m excited.”
A woman stepped up to the podium. “Kristen Kenneth on the violin.”
A small girl moved into the center of the stage. She looked nervous and Margot felt herself tense, remembering how much she hated being onstage. Then she reminded herself she wasn’t the point of the exercise and consciously relaxed back into her seat. When the girl lifted her bow and the first note filled the auditorium, she could relax for real. The contestant was an excellent musician.
Music soared and danced. The girl’s eyes sank closed as she retreated into the beauty of the piece. Margot leaned toward Bianca.
“Tell me what you’re thinking?”
“She’s gifted and loves her music. I’m not sure she wants to be in a beauty pageant.” She narrowed her gaze. “She’s not nearly pretty enough. She might grow into her looks, but I doubt it. She’s not naturally elegant. I think someone in the family is making her do this and they should leave her alone to have a musical career.”
Margot stared at her. “Wow. That was good. Okay, you’re totally getting this.”
Several more girls competed in the talent competition. One tap-danced with a lot more enthusiasm than talent. When she slipped and landed on the stage on her butt, she burst into tears and ran off.
“A quitter,” Bianca murmured.
Margot winced. “That might be a bit harsh.”
“She’s chubby and there’s no way she’s going to be a beauty. In my business they call it a face for radio.”
“You need to dial it down.”
“I’m telling you what I think.”
“Try being less mean.”
“Whatever.”
They watched a few more girls, then there was a break. Margot stood. “Let’s go backstage.” She narrowed her gaze. “On the condition you only say nice things.”
“It was one comment. You know I’m right about her.”
“Actually I don’t. I’ve seen average-looking girls blossom into great beauties and pretty girls who weren’t the least bit successful in pageants. My great-grandmother would know. She could look at a seven-year-old and tell you how she was going to grow up. It was a gift.”
They made their way down the aisle toward the stage.
“So why do they do this?” Bianca asked. “Why take the chance when you have no idea if you’re going to be pageant material?” She made air quotes around the last two words.
“Lots of reasons. At this age, some are doing it for Mom, as we discussed. But for others, it’s fun to play with clothes and makeup. You meet people and learn skills. If you want to go into journalism or anything to do with the media, you’ll learn how to speak to a group, have poise in nearly any situation. At the upper levels, the scholarship money can make the difference between the school of your dreams and community college. If you win at the state level, you’ll have opportunities most people can’t even dream of.”
Bianca stared at her in surprise. “You believe in all this.”
“I’ve seen what the pageants can do. It’s a lot more than a show on cable TV.” Margot walked around the stage and opened the door leading to the dressing rooms. “Having said that, there are girls who are here because they have to be and not because they want to be. A lot is on the line. Emotions run high and there is plenty of drama.”
She showed her backstage pass to a security guard, then opened another door that led behind the stage. The volume went from quiet to battleworthy shrieks and squeals. Girls ran everywhere, laughing, crying, twirling and texting. Family members—mostly moms but some grandparents and the occasional dad—did their best to corral their girls. A few of them looked at Bianca and did a double take, as if they weren’t sure if they recognized her or not, something Margot had worried about. She pulled Bianca to the side.
“We’re here to observe,” she said, speaking into Bianca’s ear. “Just watch them. You’ll see the ones who are excited and the ones who hate their moms. The purpose of this is for you to experience a visceral reaction to the dynamics, then think about what you could do to defuse that situation if you were involved. What would you say? Where would you go to take a second to breathe? I’m hoping you’ll ride the roller coaster of emotions but also stay above them.”
“What are you feeling?” Bianca asked.
Margot looked around at the girls in curlers, the mothers applying mascara and thought of the pressure to be all her great-grandmother wanted her to be.
“It can be tough and I could never have done this.”
“But you tried.”
“Over and over again.”
Bianca nodded, then turned back to the girls.
“What do you think you’re doing?” one mother yelled, grabbing her daughter by the arm. “You were eating candy. You’re already so fat, you barely fit in your dress. Do you know how much this is costing us? I had to take time off work to come here with you and you’re eating candy?”
“I’m hungry.”
“I don’t care if you’re starving to death. Fat girls don’t win.”
Margot fought down anger. She desperately wanted to march up to that woman and tell her to just stop it. Bianca put out a restraining arm.
“Breathe,” she said quietly.
“I always hated that part of things.”
“Who wouldn’t? We just have to trust in karma.”
“Or maybe call Social Services,” Margot grumbled.
There were other girls who were excited about the competition. Girls who were laughing and hugging their moms.
“There’s the pageant coordinator,” Margot said. “I’m going to say hello to her and thank her for letting us come observe. Want to meet her?”
“No thanks. I’ll walk around instead. Come find me when you’re done.”
Margot wondered if that was the best plan, then figured Bianca wasn’t going to get into any trouble in a place like this. Or so she hoped.
She wove her way through the contestants and found Paula Turner.
“Margot! How lovely to see you.” Paula, a beautiful woman in her forties, hugged her. “You’re stunning as always.”
Margot smiled. “As are you. I see tablets have replaced clipboards.”
“Time marches on. Are you enjoying our future queens?”
“I am. There’s a lot of talent here.”
A sharp scream cut through the babble of conversation. Paula winced. “And the usual drama. Can I convince you to consider judging?”
“Not right now. It would be more of a commitment than I want to take on.”
“I knew you were going to say that, but if you change your mind, you know how to find me.”
Margot excused herself and went looking for Bianca. She saw her client rushing out a side door.
“Wh
at on earth?”
Margot hurried after her and caught up with her by the car. Tears streamed down Bianca’s face as she pulled frantically on the locked car door.
“We have to go! Now! We have to go. How could you? Do you know what they’re doing? Do you?”
“Bianca, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Bianca turned away from her. “Leave me alone. This was a terrible idea. I just want to go home. I want to go now.”
The last word came out as a scream. Margot flinched, then opened the car doors. The drive back to the house was silent except for the sound of Bianca’s sobs.
When they arrived, Margot turned to her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what went wrong.”
She expected Bianca to yell at her, but instead she drew in a breath and shook her head. “You can’t know. No one can know. It’s just... I can never go back there again. Promise me we won’t go back.”
“I promise. But please, tell me what happened. I want to help.”
“You can’t.” Tears flowed down Bianca’s cheeks. “You can’t. No one can. But it’s not your fault. It’s me. It’s in me.”
With that, she scrambled out of the car and ran toward the house. Margot stared after her, not sure what had happened or what her words meant. You can’t know. No one can know. What did that mean? That it was a secret? Or no one else could understand what she’d been through?
Something from Bianca’s past had been triggered. Something awful and scary. Something that had left scars on her heart and her soul. Whatever it was, it was a powerful force and it had been with Bianca for a long, long time.
Chapter Fifteen
Declan couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous. The whole situation was ridiculous, and yet there he was, with sweaty palms and a burning desire to bolt. Not that he had any idea where he would go or how running away would make anything better.
His reaction—or overreaction—didn’t make sense. Some woman was dropping off her kid for a playdate. It had happened before and it would happen again. There was nothing to be concerned about. Except, she wasn’t just some woman, she was Elijah’s mother, and for reasons that were no longer clear to him, somehow she had become a viable candidate for him to go out with and possibly, eventually, have sex with.
He couldn’t remember all the steps that had gotten him from a need without an obvious solution to an actual woman on his doorstep, but here he was and damned if he wasn’t apprehensive that certain things were going to go badly.
Today was Sunshine’s day off. At least that was something. He wasn’t sure he could have endured her giggling in the background. Not that she would have been giggling, but she would have known some measure of what he was thinking and dear God, he needed a drink.
Given that it wasn’t even noon, he pushed that thought away. He was about to retreat to his office in an attempt to distract himself when Connor came running into the kitchen.
“They’re here! Elijah’s here! I’m going to show him my ant farm before we go for batting practice, okay, Dad? You won’t rush us?”
Declan smiled at his son. “You take as much time with the ant farm as you want.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
His plan was to take the boys to the batting cage for an hour or so, then grab lunch before heading to the gardens at The Huntington where they would spend the rest of the afternoon. Both boys should end the day tired and ready for a quiet evening, which was Declan’s understanding of a successful playdate.
Connor ran to the front door to let them in. Declan followed more slowly, more unsure than reluctant.
He’d met Elijah before. The kid was about Connor’s height, also on the thin side, with red hair and freckles. His mother was a pretty redhead with short hair and an easy smile. She wore jeans and a T-shirt and had a kid-size backpack over one arm.
He tried to figure out if he was attracted to her, but couldn’t get past the weirdness of having to ask the question.
“Hi,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Phoebe Salvia. You must be Declan. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Connor motioned to Elijah. “Come see the ants. They’re really happy in their new home and they’re busy all the time.”
The boys raced down the hall.
Phoebe shook her head. “All that energy. I just want to crawl back in bed and read for a couple of hours.” She handed him the backpack. “His batting helmet is in there, along with a clean T-shirt, just in case.”
“Good thinking. So the plan is what Sunshine discussed. I’ll drop him off between three and four.”
“That’s perfect. I have a huge list of errands to get done today.” Her smile turned impish. “We can’t all have a nanny.”
Declan knew she was teasing, but still felt a little uncomfortable with the topic. “We’re lucky to have her.”
“Yes, you are. Maybe instead of a raise, I could ask my boss for nanny credits.”
“What is it you do?”
“I’m a manager at a large insurance company.”
“Oh, that’s...”
“Don’t say interesting.” She laughed again. “Seriously, it’s not, but that’s okay. I’m responsible for three call centers and a hundred salespeople, so the work is challenging, but whenever I say insurance, people immediately tune me out.”
“I won’t do that.”
“I’m happy to hear that.” She glanced down the hall. “Please don’t say anything encouraging about the ant farm to Elijah. There is no way on this earth I’m paying to have ants in the house.” She shuddered.
“I will discourage any ant farm conversation.”
“Thank you. Well, I should probably get going.”
She hesitated a second before opening the door. As if waiting for something.
While they’d been talking, Declan had forgotten to be nervous, but as soon as she lingered, he suddenly felt like a fifteen-year-old unable to keep from having an erection at a funeral.
“Good luck with the errands,” he said. “I have your cell if I need to get in touch with you.”
“Yes, you do.” Her tone was pointed.
Crap. Double crap.
Not knowing what else to do, he reached around her and held open the door. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Have fun with the boys.”
She waved and walked out of the house. He closed the door behind her, then shook his head. He was totally and completely hopeless, he thought, unable to shake the sense of having missed something.
He didn’t want to deal with any of this, he thought as he started for Connor’s room. He didn’t want to have to figure out if he liked someone or if she liked him. He wanted things to be easy, like they were with Sunshine. Around her, he was always comfortable—well, except for the wanting her part. Not that it was her fault she was so incredibly hot. But it was more than that. He liked talking to her. They found the same things funny, they never ran out of things to say. If she wasn’t his nanny, he would ask her out in a second.
But she was his nanny and he didn’t want to lose that or screw up what they had. Which left him with the social graces of a twig and the knowledge that he really wanted to get laid.
* * *
Alec saw Bianca sitting out in the garden. There was nothing unusual with that—the afternoon was warm and sunny. However, what caught his attention was the fact that his mother was smoking. He’d never seen her smoke before and went out to investigate.
She looked up as he approached the stone table, but didn’t say anything. Sure enough, there was a pack of cigarettes next to her, and an ashtray.
“You’re smoking.” He tried not to sound accusatory, but wasn’t sure he was successful. “You’ve never been a smoker.”
“Oh, Alec, the things you don’t know about me could fill volumes.”
She sounded sad and resigned, not at all the woman he knew. Her face was lined and she looked much closer to her actual age than he’d ever seen her. He sat next to her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Margot tried to quit.”
His gut clenched at the words and it was all he could do to keep from running inside to demand that she not leave. An unexpected reaction he would study later.
“What happened?”
Bianca inhaled deeply, then blew out smoke. Her movements were practiced. When had she started smoking and why didn’t he know?
“Nothing happened,” his mother said. “It’s all ridiculous. She took me to a beauty pageant this morning. I was to watch the girls and figure out which ones wanted to be there and which didn’t. The point was to help me see what discomfort and awkwardness look like so I could feel the feelings and deal with them. I don’t know—maybe it wasn’t that at all.”
“What happened?”
His mother offered him a humorless smile. “You keep asking that. She did the same. Nothing happened. No one said anything to me or even noticed I was there. Nothing happened.”
“Then why is Margot quitting and why are you out here smoking?”
“She thinks she’s not good for me. She thinks she’s failing. I told her it wasn’t about her. If she and Wesley were getting married, there would be no problem. She would know exactly what to do in every situation. She would be the perfect wife and he would never have to worry about his career.”
Alec was in over his head and drowning. He could feel himself going under and had absolutely no idea how to reach the surface. Or what they were talking about.
“Margot and Wesley have no interest in each other. Why would you think otherwise?”
Her smile turned genuine. “Yes, my love, I know that. I was trying to illustrate a point.” The smile faded. “It doesn’t matter. Not really. I want to do this. I want to get through the problem or over it or whatever the right word is.”
The Summer of Sunshine and Margot Page 19
