“Oh yes, please do. I mean it.” Kelly seemed to be talking faster the closer they got to the door. “In the meantime, all you have to do is make a salad and bake some garlic bread and voilà—this should provide you with a few delicious Italian feasts.”
It didn’t escape Maren’s notice that this bulk food offering included neither the salad nor the garlic bread. It also paled in comparison to the numerous elaborate, gourmet meal train deliveries Maren had helped organize at Alicia’s behest or received on Alicia’s behalf, most recently after Alicia’s heartrending Facebook post last year (crafted by her PR team) about putting down their thirteen-year-old dog, Cardinal’s father, Leland. Apparently, the less you had, the less you needed, or so went the logic of the wealthy.
Maren was just about to reach for the doorknob when Kelly, in an impressive feat of speed and agility, suddenly placed herself between the door and Maren and rested her hand on the wall. “So before I go…you mentioned UW a few weeks ago, but then with the rumors and the accident… I’m just genuinely curious. Where did Winnie end up applying?” Kelly stared expectantly at Maren.
And there it was. Maren suppressed a smirk. It came as no surprise at all to Maren that Kelly was choosing to ignore Ted’s belated attempt to enforce EBA’s community values. Maren briefly weighed the benefits of keeping up the UW smokescreen for a few more weeks. It was really none of Kelly’s business where Winnie had applied. But Maren was way past her lifetime bullshit quotient. And she’d had it with Kelly especially. She ached to deal with her—and all these blasted EBA parents—head-on for once and put the speculation to rest. If Maren told Kelly the truth, the entire school community would know in about 8.6 seconds. The only thing holding her back was her fear of losing her job. She was bound to lose it at some point soon, but she didn’t think Alicia would dare fire her right away, not when she was under such a cloud of suspicion because the threatening text had specifically mentioned Stanford. Her PR people were good, but they weren’t magicians. Try as she might, Maren could think of no good reason why she should hold back any longer.
Pulling herself tall, Maren looked squarely at Kelly. “Actually, Kelly.” Maren paused and took a breath. “Winnie applied early to Stanford. And Stanford is on the no-loan list, so if she gets in, she’ll go for free. Isn’t that awesome?”
Kelly’s face flashed first with shock and then anger. With what appeared to be a great deal of effort, she settled her lips in the shape of a toothy smile that had all the emotional backing of an emoji. “Isn’t that nice,” she said in a tone that communicated the opposite. “And so very brave of you.” Her nostrils flared as she took a final disapproving glance at Maren’s modest home. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your evening.”
Maren opened the door. “Thanks again for the lasagna, Kelly!” Now Maren was actually grateful she didn’t have to endure the awkward few seconds it would have taken Kelly to put her shoes back on. She watched Kelly waddle down the steps to her car before shutting the front door. Maren leaned back against the door, closed her eyes, and counted to ten before she let out her breath and slid down to the floor.
As Maren reflected on the latest rumor apparently making the rounds about her daughter, she could only shake her head. Applying to every top-ten school. Having just logged in to Winnie’s application portal, Maren knew for a fact that was a load of crap. The viciousness of the EBA community had long ago ceased to surprise her. But perhaps Kelly had one decent point. Maybe the existence of this rumor meant she needed to expand her thinking about who might have had motive to be gunning for Winnie. Maren was still shuddering at that unnerving thought when Winnie flung open her bedroom door.
“Oh my God! Mom, is it true? Did you really apply to Stanford for me?”
Maren looked up at Winnie from the floor with a mischievous smile. “Well…you can’t get in if you don’t apply, right? Besides, you did all the work. All I did was push the button.”
“But I figured that would be completely off the table after this.” She waved her hand over her battered body.
“Then you have a poor opinion of me.” Maren grabbed hold of the doorknob and pulled herself up. “I may seem like a pushover sometimes. I get that. I’ve had to make a lot of tough choices. But when the rubber hits the road, my friend? This girl’s got tits of steel.” Maren arched her back and pounded two fists against her chest.
“Really, Mom? I really applied early to Stanford?”
“Yup.” Maren brushed a dust bunny off her pants. “I refuse to let those entitled pricks take away what you’ve earned without a fight.”
Winnie’s eyebrows furrowed. “But what threat were you and Mrs. Vernon talking about?”
Maren walked over to the kitchen junk drawer and pulled out Winnie’s phone, which Winnie hadn’t even asked for since the accident. Another sign of just how awful her daughter was feeling.
Maren had already managed to get the screen replaced at a repair shop she’d discovered last year after Brooke damaged her fifth brand-new iPhone in the space of six months (apparently phone cases looked too “basic”). “I’m going to show you something on your phone, but then it goes back into the drawer until you’re better. Remember that the doctors said you have to rest your brain. But I need to explain what you’re going to see.” She led Winnie to the couch and turned to face her. “So listen. When you were in the ICU, I had your phone, and you received a text.”
“What did it say?”
“In a nutshell, back off Stanford or whoever did this to you would finish the job.” She pulled up the text and showed it to Winnie.
“Oh my God. This is insane.” She dropped the phone down on the couch like it was radioactive. “And you still let me apply? Aren’t you terrified?”
“Of course I am. But we can’t let this stand in the way of your dreams.” Maren took hold of Winnie’s uncasted hand and paused for a beat before continuing. She looked deep into her daughter’s wide eyes. “We—I—can’t live in fear anymore. I promised myself when you were in the hospital that I would stop being an obstacle in your path. I can’t control everything, but I can at least do that. The police are investigating and said they’ll keep an extra eye on our block. We will obviously need to take precautions. A lot of them. But please trust me. I’m not going to let anything else happen to you.” Maren squeezed Winnie’s hand.
“I guess if you say so…” Winnie said skeptically. Pulling her hand back, she looked out the window and inhaled deeply, as if a flood of oxygen would give her the strength to accept her mom’s assurances.
As Maren watched her pensive daughter take in this new set of facts, she prayed she would be able to make good on her promise. And she renewed her private vow to do whatever it took.
After another few seconds, Winnie finally turned back to face her mother and nodded once. And then a smile, albeit a very crooked one, slowly grew on her face. “So I really applied to Stanford?”
“You bet your ass you did.” Maren grinned back and then gingerly pulled Winnie in for a hug. As they relished this rare victory, Maren wished the moment would never end. She loved this girl with all her might.
“You know,” Winnie said with a hint of laughter. “I don’t think anyone has ever rendered Mrs. Vernon speechless like that. I wish I could have seen her face.” Winnie tipped her head back and raised her eyebrows. “I bet that felt freaking amazing, huh?”
Maren nodded at her daughter, slowly and meaningfully. “You have no idea.”
21
Alicia
Alicia tossed her Stanford-branded stress-relieving squishy ball back and forth between her hands as she listened to her COO wrap up the conference call. She squeezed the ball, thinking about Maren and Winnie’s audacity. It hadn’t taken long for word to reach her that Winnie had indeed applied to Stanford. But in light of the threat Winnie had received, Alicia’s hands were tied. There was nothing she could do at this point other than
wait for early admission day to arrive. Five weeks to go.
As the call ended and Alicia removed her headset, her assistant, Charlotte, knocked on the door and stuck her head in. “Got a minute?”
Alicia motioned for her to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk.
The young woman perched on the edge and smoothed her skirt. “I hate to bother you, but that detective has called three times to talk with you about Winnie Pressley’s accident,” Charlotte said, biting her lip. “I keep telling him you’re not available, but I get the sense he’s getting really annoyed. I don’t know how long I can put him off. What if he just shows up here one day?”
“Oh, Charlotte, you’ve been watching too much TV,” Alicia said, batting away her assistant’s worry. “I don’t know why he’s so eager to talk to me anyway. I certainly don’t know anything. Email me his number, and I’ll have my lawyer take care of it.”
“Great. I’ll do that right now.” Charlotte stood up, her posture visibly relaxing. “Thank you.”
“Can you close my door on the way out?” Alicia spun around in her chair and looked out over Puget Sound. What exactly was she supposed to tell the detective? That her husband and daughter were both furious with her that night and their whereabouts were unknown? That she was pretty certain her daughter had nothing to do with the accident because she couldn’t give a shit about going to Stanford and had been doing everything possible to sabotage her own chances? That she herself had sent an email implying Winnie’s last semester of EBA tuition was contingent on her not applying to Stanford? That her own husband recently threatened Maren’s job if Winnie’s application was ever submitted? To calm her worries about Bryan, Alicia had checked all five of their cars, not knowing which one he might have been driving that night. There was barely a ding or a scratch on Alicia’s Mercedes SUV, Bryan’s Range Rover, Bryan’s Ford F-150, the Tesla Model X they all shared, and the Porsche convertible that Bryan only drove during the summer. Certainly nothing that screamed “hit-and-run.” Thankfully, Brooke’s new Range Rover was still pristine. But the detective was sure to ask where Alicia had been that night. Was she supposed to give him Professor Bejamaca’s contact information and risk all the world finding out she’d hired him to write her daughter’s college application essays? There wasn’t a chance in hell that was going to happen.
Alicia shot off a text to her lawyer with the detective’s contact information and explicit instructions to shut the whole thing down. Glancing at her watch, she realized Bryan would be arriving any minute. They’d invited a dozen couples to sit in the Aspyre box to see U2 that night. Part social, part business development. Diana and Michael Taylor were on the guest list. Alicia had been eyeing a company in Michael’s portfolio, but Diana was the real reason she’d included them. As the self-appointed doyenne of the Seattle social scene, Diana was not someone you ever wanted to overlook. But Diana had canceled that morning, claiming she’d come down with food poisoning.
While she waited for Bryan, Alicia clicked open her personal email to check for any more last-minute cancellations. She deleted all the slick marketing efforts from her own company as well as Bergdorf Goodman, Avenue 32, Bluefly, Sephora, Amazon, and so many others. An alert from apairofgenes.com slid into the upper right-hand corner of her screen and caught her eye. The subject line read “Winnie Pressley Has a Message Waiting.” This was maybe the fifth such message Alicia had received since uncovering the identity of Winnie’s father. She’d assumed these were akin to the spam emails Aspyre’s marketers sent out to entice users back to the site. In the interest of tidying up loose ends, Alicia logged back into apairofgenes.com to delete the account. Bryan walked in her office just as the actual messages waiting for Winnie appeared on Alicia’s monitor.
She held up her hand, putting him off as she read the first message in disbelief—and then all the rest in utter horror.
Sent 18 days ago
Hi, Winnie,
My name is Naomi Alder. I’m married to your biological dad, Chase Alder. I have to be honest, we were shocked when your leaf appeared on our family tree a few days ago. We had no idea you existed, but we’re trusting DNA doesn’t lie. We’ve been on pins and needles hoping you will contact us. You can reply through the platform or email me at [email protected]. We’re excited to hear from you!
Naomi
* * *
Sent 16 days ago
Hi, Winnie,
It’s Naomi again. We’re guessing you’re a senior in high school? You’re probably pretty busy right now. We totally understand, but we really hope you’ll reach out to us. We’d love to hear from you. And soon if possible.
Naomi
* * *
Sent 14 days ago
Hi, Winnie,
It’s Naomi again. I know this is going to seem a little odd, but it’s urgent we get in touch with you. I’m coming to Seattle tomorrow to try to find you.
Naomi
* * *
Sent 10 days ago
Hi, Winnie,
I thought I would hear from you after the accident. Are you OK? Maybe you don’t remember, but I was there that night.
Naomi
* * *
Sent today
Winnie,
I’m back in Seattle. I need to meet up with you as soon as possible. It’s important.
Naomi
With her heart racing, Alicia reread the messages several times, trying to understand what had happened. All she’d done was click on Winnie’s match list. As far as Alicia could surmise, doing so must have made Winnie’s profile public and triggered a notification to people on her family tree. “Shit, shit, shit, God fucking dammit!” Alicia swore under her breath as she frantically scanned the website, looking for a way to undo her mistake. But she knew better than anyone this was not a mess that could be fixed by simply deleting the account or unchecking some box. Data lived forever.
“Leesh, what the hell’s going on?” Bryan was sprawled on her office couch.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” As Alicia processed the implications of what she’d done, her vision clouded, and her lungs constricted. Hyperventilation had always been one of those things that sounded so “drama queen,” but she literally couldn’t breathe. Bryan guided her over to the couch and repeatedly instructed her to drop her head between her knees. She obeyed his orders, since the alternative was apparently death by asphyxiation. As she held her head in her hands, her thoughts careened every which way. Even once her breathing slowed, her mind continued to race. She squeezed her eyes against the unusual prickle of tears. “I fucked up. I really, really fucked up.”
Bryan rubbed her back and pulled her close. “You’re OK,” he said. “Now tell me what happened.”
Alicia wanted nothing more than to bury her face in Bryan’s chest and stay wrapped in his strong, protective arms, but this wasn’t a scathing comment from a reporter where he could soothe her by calling the guy an asshole and cracking an off-color joke. She pulled back and searched her husband’s eyes, trying to figure out where to begin. “Remember Brooke’s eighth-grade science fair project a few years ago with those DNA tests?”
“Yeah…?” His brows knitted together.
“Winnie took one of the DNA tests too. When I set up her account, I pretended I was her mom. I guess I planned to tell Maren at some point, but it didn’t seem like a big deal.”
“So?” Bryan leaned back and spread his arms wide across the couch cushions.
“Remember when I got that anonymous text that Winnie was still applying to Stanford when Maren had been telling everyone she was going for UW? Well, the text also said that her first-generation college hook was bogus. I didn’t tell you that part.” Alicia picked at the cuticles around her thumbs. A nervous habit she’d never conquered. “I knew Maren didn’t go to college, so it got me wondering whether there might be a dad in the pi
cture. Maren’s always been so secretive, I figured it was totally plausible.” Alicia could sense Bryan was barely following her, but now that she was saying it out loud, she had to get it all out. “The company that we used for the science project, apairofgenes.com, added an ancestry option a couple of years ago. You know, where you can find relatives through matching DNA? All I did was peek at her DNA match list. Her biological father came right up. Once I had a name, it was easy to figure out he went to Yale.”
“So she was lying about that too?” Bryan cracked his knuckles.
“Yeah, and the kicker was that it turns out I was mistaken all along about Maren never going to college. After I found out about the dad going to Yale, I talked to Ted and learned that Maren actually did attend college. The background check I did on her when she first started with us must not have picked up that fact because she never graduated,” Alicia continued. “So the anonymous text about the bogus first-gen hook actually had nothing to do with Winnie’s father—it was always about Maren. If I had just called Ted to clarify the situation right when I got the text, none of this would have happened.”
“I’m confused. None of what?” Bryan asked.
Alicia sighed deeply as she waded into the truly disastrous part of the story. “What I didn’t realize was that by looking at Winnie’s match list, I made her profile public. Winnie’s biological father’s wife, her name is Naomi, has been messaging me through the platform thinking I was Winnie. They never even knew she existed until I opened up her data for review.” Alicia walked over to her desk, grabbed her laptop, and handed it to Bryan.
Bryan read Naomi’s messages. “Oh Jesus, Leesh,” Bryan said, running a hand through his hair. “Holy shit. She’s in Seattle right now. They could meet and put all this together.” He shut the laptop and set it on the end table.
“I know,” Alicia said. “I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t know what to do.”
“Does anyone else know about this?”
Girls with Bright Futures Page 19