Eli is the sweetest little boy. He loves trains, balls, animals, and Spider-Man. He’s been so brave. Winnie, we are running out of time and options, and we are absolutely terrified of losing our little boy. We know it’s a huge thing to ask of you given that you don’t know us, but would you be willing to be tested to see if you are a match with Eli?
Naomi
Given that you don’t know us? That was the reason it was a huge ask? Not, say, given that my husband raped your mom when she was only seventeen and you were the result of his violent act? Maren had no clue if this woman was part of some elaborate con designed to draw Maren and Winnie out or whether she was, as she claimed, truly the mom of a little boy with cancer who was married to a rapist and either didn’t know or didn’t care. All options felt equally absurd. And even if she was telling the truth about her boy, a child who may or may not be Winnie’s half brother, Maren couldn’t help her harsh gut reaction: Why should the fate of her rapist’s son be any of Maren’s or Winnie’s business, let alone their responsibility?
She felt ugly admitting that to herself, but she was helpless against the anger swelling inside her like an abscess. As far as she was concerned, they could all rot in hell. She might not be able to put him in jail after all these years (she’d long ago researched the statute of limitations for sexual assault in Indiana), but she could send him to a different kind of purgatory. And after everything he’d taken from her, was it wrong that she thought she could probably live with that?
Alicia’s final message back to Naomi posing as Winnie suggested that on this point alone, she and Maren were aligned:
I’m sorry about your son, but I have no interest in getting tested. Stop harassing me or I will go to the police. This is your last warning.
What a callous woman. At least Maren had a justifiable reason for withholding help for this little boy, whereas Alicia’s cold response was obviously motivated by very different (self) interests. But still, Maren didn’t love the notion that regardless of the reason, she’d landed on the same morally questionable stance as Alicia.
At a loss, Maren searched Naomi’s name. Unlike Chase, Naomi maintained updated pages on nearly every social media platform from Instagram to Facebook to LinkedIn. A quick perusal of her accounts revealed a mom on a desperate mission to find a stem cell donor for her terminally ill son. In the most recent photos on Instagram, Eli was bald, and Chase and Naomi sported stoic smiles and raccoon eyes that bore witness to intense grief. There was no way Naomi could be faking Eli’s illness. Her public social media presence stretching back for years all but confirmed that. As a mom, Maren felt awful for Naomi, she really did. And that darling little boy. Dear lord, was she becoming a monster too? There was no doubt her anger was righteous and justified, but was that enough to turn her back on an innocent child?
And then there was the matter of Winnie’s accident. Had Naomi really been the one to call the medics? The doctors had told Maren that Winnie likely would have died on the parking strip that night if she hadn’t been found in time to stop the brain bleed. She supposed it was possible Naomi was lying about the SUV, but if Naomi had been the one to cause Winnie’s accident, at the very least it wouldn’t have been on purpose. She would hardly have been able to harvest stem cells from a dead minor. Maren didn’t owe Chase a damn thing, but might she owe Naomi a karmic debt for saving her daughter’s life?
Maren pulled her hair back into a rubber band. If Naomi wasn’t the one who ran Winnie off the road, then Maren was back to assuming the hit-and-run really had been the by-product of EBA’s deranged college frenzy. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. As distressed as she was, she couldn’t afford to get distracted. Above all else, she had to figure out who was behind Winnie’s hit-and-run.
All through the evening, Maren’s erratic emotions came at her from every direction, like bullets slicing through the air as she ducked and dodged. She would tense up with rage and then be overcome by a wave of shame and then, again, sympathy. She wiped away her tears, swearing at herself to get it together. After hours of this epic internal battle, Maren couldn’t shake the worry that Winnie might never forgive her if she didn’t come clean.
The only thing that could break Maren forever would be if she lost her daughter. The thought of being estranged from Winnie the way Maren had been from her own parents was unbearable. For most of her adult life, she’d yearned for a road map to survival. Instead, she’d been forced to travel uncharted terrain. While far from perfect, Maren was proud of the hard work and ingenuity she’d applied to the effort. At some point in the past few years, she’d even begun to dream she might finally outrun her past and do more than merely survive; she might actually learn to thrive alongside her remarkable daughter. But ever since Winnie’s star-crossed dreams of Stanford had taken center stage, Maren’s tenuous grasp on everything she valued seemed to be slipping. Not only did she still have to contend with her overarching terror that Winnie’s attacker was still at large, but on top of that, she was left to fret about what Naomi might do next, now that Alicia had thrown cold water on her plan to save her son. As Maren well knew, a desperate mom could be unpredictable. It was time for Maren to take the plunge and tell Winnie the truth.
25
Alicia
Alicia and Eryn, the member of Aspyre’s social media team sent to take photos of her at the SST meeting, pulled up to EBA. As Eryn unclicked her seat belt, Alicia put her hand on Eryn’s arm. “You know, I think maybe I better go in alone. The moms will probably get all weird about you being there because I didn’t clear it ahead of time. I’ll text if I need you.” The social media team might want content showcasing her good works in the community, but Alicia had her own agenda to get through first.
For starters, her lawyer had been stonewalling Detective Davis, and Alicia was desperate to know if there had been any developments that would point the finger at someone other than her family. Asking Maren herself was out of the question, but she was willing to wager that good ol’ Amanda Russell would be more than willing to stir the pot with Alicia, Kelly, and Maren all in the same room. None of this was gossip she wanted people whispering about at Aspyre.
Alicia took off her sunglasses and gazed at her reflection in the mirror Eryn was holding so she could reapply her lipstick. No amount of injectable filler and expensive concealer could hide the dark circles under her eyes. Ever since she’d read Naomi’s last email about her sick son, Alicia had been unable to sleep. Every night, she tossed and turned, trying to push the photo of Olivia and Eli Alder she’d seen in the apairofgenes messaging thread out of her mind. They both had Winnie’s big piercing blue eyes. The face of the dying little boy haunted her, but it was Olivia on whom she was most fixated. The little girl wore a Sleeping Beauty princess dress in the picture Naomi had attached. Her long blond hair fell around her shoulders, and a huge smile revealed several missing teeth. But it was Olivia’s arms wrapped protectively around her little brother, who was bald with no eyelashes or eyebrows, that gutted Alicia. What would happen to this little girl if her brother died? While Alicia had been much older than Olivia, losing her own brother had fundamentally altered the course of her own life. And not in a good way.
After Alex died, a suffocating sadness had descended over Alicia and her parents that seemed to either scare or repel people. When school had started that fall, Alicia’s teachers, her friends’ parents, even her friends had treated her differently. They hadn’t known what to say. They wouldn’t make eye contact. She was no longer Alicia, the sophomore at Grosse Pointe High School. She was the dead swimming star’s sister. A constant cautionary tale of the dangers of drinking and driving.
Alicia had started eating lunch alone in the school library and reading the Detroit Free Press. One day, she’d come across an article about the twentieth anniversary of President Kennedy’s assassination that captivated her. For months afterward, she’d retreated to the library stacks, plowing through book a
fter book on the Kennedy family, inexorably drawn to the multiple tragedies they’d suffered and somehow survived. Alicia couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened to John F. Kennedy if his older brother, Joe, hadn’t been killed during World War II. Joe had been the one their father was grooming for greatness.
Alicia didn’t think her father had ever dreamed Alex would be president of the United States, but he’d definitely had big plans and high expectations, starting with an NCAA title and the 1988 Olympics in Seoul. She’d imagined that as the cloud of Joe Kennedy Sr.’s grief lifted, he’d transferred all his hopes and dreams to John. That was how Alicia felt when she was changing sides during a high school tennis match that spring and noticed her dad, for the first time, sitting on the bleachers next to her mom.
Though Alicia was not a particularly strong tennis player, every time she won, her parents got excited. A small reprieve from their intense unhappiness. They weren’t delusional enough to envision a tennis scholarship to Michigan in Alicia’s future, but they thought a #4 Singles State title sure was. One day, Alicia was playing a girl from another top team in the state. A pretty blond. Every game went to deuce many times, a real battle. When they switched sides at 4–3 and were each taking a drink from their water jugs, Alicia looked the other girl up and down and said, “You’re not as fat as everyone says you are.” Alicia smiled, put her water jug down, and went to her side of the net to return serve. She didn’t lose another game.
During other matches, sometimes Alicia switched the score and lied about it. Sometimes she called close balls out on purpose. There were whispers, of course, but who was going to accuse the girl whose brother had died of cheating? Alicia won the #4 Singles State title that year and for the next two years using the same tactics. All that mattered was winning so her parents would be happy. When she was in her early thirties, a therapist finally helped Alicia understand that she had been dealing with immense anger about Alex’s death and that inflicting pain on other people had made her feel better. But by then she’d acquired an appetite for winning, and the lying, cheating, and manipulating had become a tough habit to break.
Alicia pushed the negative thoughts from her mind, blotted her lips, and took one last look in the mirror. Promising to take an Insta-worthy photo, she slammed the car door behind her. The moms would be assembling one hundred Giving Thanks care packages to be delivered to the seniors before they left for Thanksgiving break next week. According to Kelly’s reminder email, this year, the SST had decided to add a philanthropic twist to the annual event by making another hundred care packages for one of Diana’s pet charities, Homeless to Homefull, the downtown homeless shelter for women and children.
After Diana’s food poisoning the other night, Alicia had called her, but Diana hadn’t yet returned the call. Not only that, but Diana hadn’t responded to any of Charlotte’s emails sent the week before the concert to schedule their traditional lunch for Diana’s birthday. Alicia had no idea what social infraction she’d committed to warrant Diana’s disappearing act. Maybe if she posted a picture from today’s meeting tagging Homeless to Homefull for her nine hundred thousand followers, Diana would stop avoiding her.
As she pulled open the door to the Taylor Family Conference Room, Alicia steeled herself, knowing she was about to come face-to-face with Maren for the first time since Alicia had discovered Naomi’s emails to Winnie on apairofgenes.com a couple days ago. While she hoped Naomi had gotten her stern message and given up trying to contact Winnie, Alicia knew better than to underestimate a mother running out of options.
“Alicia, what a treat to have you join us,” Kelly said, clapping her hands together and giving her a smile so big it bordered on cartoonish. “The custodian is bringing in the Giving Thanks supplies from my car.”
Alicia flashed Kelly a tight smile in a half-hearted attempt to hide her annoyance that the supplies weren’t set up already. When the door opened again, the custodian entered with several boxes balanced on a dolly, followed by Maren with an armful of bags. Alicia smiled at Maren and then busied herself setting down her bag and jacket on a chair before joining the other mothers who were standing around the table chitchatting. As soon as Maren started opening the boxes and placing their contents on the table, Kelly, Amanda, Sarah, and Jennifer began arguing over the most efficient way to arrange the items. Alicia rolled her eyes but saw an opportunity to corner Diana while the others spent the next ten minutes reinventing how to fill bags assembly-line style.
“I hope you had a great birthday,” Alicia said, settling into the chair next to Diana. “I’m so sorry we weren’t able to find a time for our usual lunch.”
“No worries.” Diana shrugged and flipped her beautiful blond hair over her shoulder. “I’m so over big birthday celebrations.”
Yeah, right. For her fiftieth birthday last year, Diana had flown fifty friends (Alicia and Bryan included) on a private jet to Paris, rented out an entire floor of the Four Seasons Hotel George V, and hosted her birthday dinner in the ornate Gallery of Battles at the Palace of Versailles.
“Well, anyway, I brought you a little something,” Alicia said, dangling a small gift bag containing the $300 Alexander McQueen silk scarf Maren had picked out.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Diana said, taking the handles of the gift bag between her fingers as if she were holding the tail of a dead rat.
Alicia watched her tuck the gift bag into her large Stella McCartney tote without opening it. “It’s too bad we didn’t get a chance to catch up at the EBA Leadership Circle cocktail party last week.”
“Oh, you mean the rich people’s affinity group?” Diana whispered behind her hand.
Alicia smothered a laugh. Maybe she’d been blowing Diana’s recent flakiness out of proportion if she still wanted to share an inside joke. At the beginning of the school year, EBA’s Diversity Task Force had announced via email a series of parent affinity groups—LGBTQ+, Pacific Islander, African American, Hispanic, Muslim—to help build a greater sense of belonging in the community. Diana had texted Alicia wondering what affinity group they were supposed to join. Moments later, they’d both received email invitations to the EBA Leadership Circle cocktail party. An exclusive event with the head of school for EBA’s largest donors. Coincidence? “Oh, Di—”
“How’s Winnie?” Amanda’s voice rose up through the chatter.
“She’s doing well, thanks,” Maren said without looking up from the box of granola bars she was unpacking.
“Is there any news about the accident?” Diana asked, trying to appear helpful by exuberantly adjusting the piles others were making.
A pregnant silence swept through the room. All at once, every woman around the table was in motion. Piles were straightened, boxes were opened, eyes shifted, and heads drooped, waiting for Maren’s answer. Alicia could sense several women in the room stealing peeks at her and Kelly.
“Winnie doesn’t remember much.” Maren shrugged as she pulled handfuls of socks from another box. “The police are still in the process of interviewing people and collecting evidence.”
Alicia glanced at Kelly. She was playing with the pendant on her necklace and appeared to be eating one of the granola bars intended for the homeless. After all the memes posted on social media, Kelly had to be their top suspect.
“Alicia, did your security team learn anything?” Amanda asked. “Bryan said at the last meeting they were working on it. He was so sweet.”
All eyes in the room turned to Alicia. She swallowed. Hard. The only directions Alicia had given her team after the accident were to beef up Brooke’s security, but she wasn’t about to admit that her husband lied to the SST. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Maren. Staring at her, waiting for a response.
Alicia tucked her hair behind her ear. “Unfortunately, my security team didn’t come up with anything.” Alicia contorted her face (or at least as much as the Botox would allow) into her best
disappointed grimace.
“I can’t believe no one’s come forward,” Sarah said. She was pulling EBA-branded earbuds out of a box.
“With all the security cameras these days, you’d think one of them would’ve picked up something,” Augusta said.
“Have you thought about offering a reward?” Diana asked Maren.
Maren looked uncomfortable but didn’t say anything.
“That’s a brilliant idea, Diana!” Alicia leaped at the opportunity to deflect suspicion over the accident, simultaneously rescuing Diana from an embarrassing silence. “I’d be happy to put up a reward. I’ll talk to that detective. Anything to help.” But the moment the words tumbled out of Alicia’s mouth, she regretted them. She’d been avoiding contact with the detective at all costs, and now she’d just publicly committed herself to reaching out to him. What the hell had she done? Had she spent years honing her poise and judgment in boardroom battles only to crack under the pressure of a goddamn SST meeting?
26
Maren
After years spent anticipating Alicia’s every need, Maren had slowly but surely chiseled a tiny peephole into Alicia’s soul. Unfortunately, looking through the peephole was like trying to see the rocky bottom of a glacial crevasse—the kind that regularly swallowed mountain climbers whole—through a drinking straw. As if Maren needed any more evidence of Alicia’s corrupt soul, her Oscar-worthy performance at the SST meeting today had provided it. Her ability to pose as an altruistic philanthropist and compassionate employer while secretly allowing a young child to die in service of her own ambition made it all but official: Maren was working for a sociopath.
Girls with Bright Futures Page 23