Where the Grass Is Green and the Girls Are Pretty

by Lauren Weisberger

  Without much hope of a response, Skye texted Esther. You awake?

  She waited for only a moment before the three dots appeared. They were followed by I am now.

  Sorry, did I wake you?

  Yes, but I’d be getting up soon for bathroom visit #2. What’s up? All ok?

  Skye smiled and adjusted the shoulder of her nightgown, which kept twisting around her neck. Gabe found the gown exceedingly sexy, which, considering it was made of a thick cotton and covered every inch of flesh from her collarbone to her ankles, probably did not say a great deal about his bedroom hopes and dreams.

  Sorry. But now that you’re up…

  ????

  Skye looked hard at those question marks. Why did it feel like a betrayal to tell her about Peyton? How insane was it that she felt a moral loyalty toward Peyton, some bizarre need to protect her? But it had been like this since the dinner: no matter how desperately she wanted to tell Esther, or the checkout guy at Stop & Shop, or the lady who did alterations at her dry cleaners, Skye hadn’t uttered a word. And since Skye couldn’t imagine ever telling another human being about the baby before her husband or her own sister, she hadn’t told Esther about that yet, either.

  Sorry, it’s nothing. Just can’t sleep.

  Come on over! One kid came in at 11, the next one usually shows up around 3.

  Skye thought of Aurora, happily asleep in her own bedroom right next door, a great sleeper since the first day they’d brought her home. She climbed out of bed while pecking the letters into her phone: I’ll come in the a.m. with coffee. Go back to sleep!

  She padded down the hallway and into Aurora’s room, where a bedside night lamp projected a million tiny stars onto the ceiling. A white-noise machine hummed quietly from a carpeted corner. Aurora looked like an angel child, peacefully sleeping on her back with her hands folded gently across her chest. She barely stirred as Skye climbed under the covers.

  “Mommy?” Aurora whispered, her eyes still closed.

  Skye snuggled closer under the covers and pressed her warm body against her daughter. What would it feel like to snuggle a baby? Memories of Aurora as a swaddled newborn, wearing little hand mitts and impossibly soft cotton beanies, flooded her with emotion. She could still conjure up that baby smell, so unlike anything else in the world. And the feeling of unrestrained joy the first time she smiled. And rolled over. And sat up. And army-crawled backwards. The weight of a baby in her arms and against her chest, a feeling so exquisite that it almost hurt.

  “It’s me, sweet girl.”

  They lay like that without talking for nearly thirty minutes. Aurora’s breathing had long steadied when Skye carefully extricated herself.

  “Honey?”

  “Ohmigod!” Skye exclaimed, and her heart rate surged.

  “It’s just me,” Gabe said, appearing next to her, the general outline of his body now visible in the bit of nightlight coming through Aurora’s half-open door. “Come here, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Skye gratefully walked into his open arms. During the day, when they both wore shoes, they were nearly the same height. It would work the same without the shoes, she’d often think—height was immutable, after all—but it didn’t. Something about the plushness of the carpet or maybe her own willingness to relax her posture, to let herself sink into her husband, made it feel like Gabe towered over her. It was the warmest, most protective feeling in the world. She breathed him in.

  “Is Aurora okay?” Gabe asked, hugging her tightly.

  “She’s fine. I couldn’t resist a quick snuggle.”

  Skye couldn’t see his face, but she could feel that he was smiling. “Leave the child alone, woman! All we ever talk about is how amazing a sleeper she is. Do you want to undo that?”

  “I miss…I miss the time when she was a baby.”

  He lifted her chin to his face, ever so slightly, and she could see that he was smiling. “I do too, sometimes.”

  Skye’s heart beat a little faster. “Maybe we should think about another?”

  Gabe took her hand. “Come on, honey. It’s the middle of the night.”

  “No, for real. I’m curious. What would you say?”

  “I’d start with ‘Come back to bed.’ ”

  It wasn’t the right time, she knew that. Instead, Skye followed him back to their bedroom, the one room in the house that, according to all the experts, was supposed to be their private, personal sanctuary. Was that even possible? Did such people exist, parents who kept their own bed neatly made and their night tables free of board books and pacifiers, their dressers devoid of bottle heaters or kindergarten drawings or a heaping stack of Pokémon cards? Skye and Gabe’s bed currently contained two of Aurora’s stuffed animals that Skye must have missed before she’d gone to sleep; there was a mini hot-pink piano with a coordinating bench under the wall-mounted television; on the little side table that adjoined Skye’s reading chaise was a stainless steel bento box with the remnants of Aurora’s cheese, apple, and peanut butter cracker bedtime snack.

  No one would call it a sanctuary, but still, despite the cluttered surfaces and a small heap of dirty laundry that never seemed to disappear, Skye loved their private area. How many evenings had she and Gabe flossed their teeth next to each other, gargled, brushed? How many mornings had she sneaked into his shower, nudging him out of the hot water stream while he feigned outrage? How many nights had they lain in bed together, having just had sex, or about to have sex, or debating whether or not they were too tired to have sex, and laughed?

  Back under the covers, Skye rested her head on Gabe’s bare chest. He stroked her hair. “Are you thinking about Peyton?”

  “Yes,” Skye said, her body tense.

  “She made a mistake. A huge one. But she’s still your sister.”

  “Of course she’s still my sister!” Skye said, instantly regretting her tone. She took a deep breath. “But that’s the problem. This is pure, unadulterated, classic Peyton. How could I not have seen it earlier? Why am I even surprised that someone who’s been obsessed with appearances her entire life would pay to ensure her daughter got into a prestigious school? I mean, Max didn’t even want to go to Princeton! And the biggest irony of all of it is that she probably could’ve gotten in on her own.”

  Gabe was quiet for a moment. “I’m not going to defend Peyton. But I don’t think she fully understood that making a so-called charitable donation in exchange for extra consideration was illegal. Immoral? Obviously. But there’s no way she knowingly broke the law.”

  “But—”

  “Let me finish. Beyond the legal definition, I also don’t think she did this for strictly selfish reasons. I think we should all give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she thought she was helping Max. In a misguided and ethically questionable way, yes. But I believe she thought that Princeton would be an incredible college experience for anyone—that it would be in Max’s best interest. From everything you’ve told me, Peyton would’ve killed to go to a school like Amherst, which we both sometimes took for granted. Yes, her moral compass was way off in the way she approached it, but she was only trying to make that happen for Max.”

  Skye pushed herself up on her elbows. “I don’t understand how she could be so selfish. And shortsighted. Was any of this difficult to predict?”

  “But we’ve all made mistakes, and we’ve all needed forgiveness.”

  “Not at this level.”

  “Maybe not. But if I recall, your sister was basically the only person who was supportive of our relationship from the very beginning. Everyone else rushed to judgment. I’m a cheater. You’re a home wrecker. Our relationship could never last, considering I was married to someone else. When your mother and my parents and pretty much all of our friends said we were being rash and stupid and selfish, Peyton was the only one who even tried to understand. Who got that my marriage
was a mistake. Who could see that what we had was the real thing. Who had confidence that we were both decent, honest people with the best intentions, despite the lousy way it all went down. And you know what? I’ve never claimed to feel super close to your sister, or to understand all of her life choices, but I will never forget that. She showed up for us then. And even though it’s hard and there’s a lot of hurt, we—you—both of us—need to show up for her now.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Skye murmured, feeling like a horrible person.

  “No, it’s not easy for me to say. You’re upset over what she did to Max, and I could literally kill her for what it ended up doing to you. I’ve watched you work like hell for two years now to build the girls’ residence from scratch. Learning everything there is to know about the real estate market. Permits. Zoning. Finding an equitable way to identify potential students. Coordinating with the school district. Interviewing and vetting potential housemothers. Raising the money, planning the construction, putting out all the fires along the way. I’ve never been prouder of anyone in my life, and then your sister makes one very bad call and your whole project implodes. You think I’m not angry? But when you take the emotion out of it, you and I both know that she never, ever could have predicted that the fallout from this would have affected you this way.”

  “Well, that’s a big part of the problem, isn’t it? She didn’t think about anyone but herself. And maybe, maybe, in a super twisted way, Max—if I really dig deep and give her the benefit of the doubt, then I suppose I can see that a little—but the rest of us? My charity? Her own husband’s reputation? All necessary casualties in Peyton’s master plan.”

  “You make her sound like a sociopath.”

  “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

  “She’s your sister, Skye. The only one you’ll ever have. Be mad at her. Hate her momentarily. But please remember that she’s suffering, too.”

  Skye rested her head back down on Gabe’s chest, ran her fingers lightly over his hair. She sighed loudly, for effect. “Why did I marry such a decent human being?”

  He kissed the top of her head and gently pulled himself out from beneath her. “Really just a tired human being,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Now, we both need to get some sleep.” Almost immediately he began to snore.

  Feeling a shiver of cold, Skye pulled her Amherst hoodie closer around her and smiled at the memory of the day Peyton visited her on campus and insisted they buy matching sweatshirts. Yes, it was true that, like everyone, Peyton at times could be bitchy and thoughtless and self-obsessed. But more often than not, she went out of her way to help the people she loved. Just like she had that weekend at Amherst, and all the other times Skye had called her sobbing over a guy or a job or, once, a pregnancy scare. Peyton always knew how to make it better. She wasn’t perfect—god knew Skye could list a hundred times when she’d wanted to murder her sister. But when things got real and the ugly crying began, Peyton showed up. Every single time.

  Skye reached toward her darkened phone and stared at it for a minute before typing:

  I hate you right now but I love you always

  And then, even though it was 4:02 a.m., the three dots popped up instantly. Skye smiled even before the reply appeared.

  Just remember, my boobs are better than yours

  Skye laughed and turned her phone upside down on her night table. She slid in next to Gabe, curled herself around his body, and fell into a deep, satisfying sleep.

  * * *

  —

  “It’s here!” Esther said, snatching her phone off the outdoor table like it contained a secret code to happiness. “Who do you have?”

  Skye snatched her phone. “Dolin. You?”

  “Dolin too! Oh my god, I’m so happy!”

  Skye called to Aurora, who was shrieking as she ran under a sprinkler. “Aurora, guess what? Vaughn is going to be in your second-grade class this year!”

  “I am?” Vaughn asked. He wore European-style swim trunks and his toenails were painted blue. The water from the sprinkler had drenched his tortoiseshell glasses, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Yes! Plus, you both have Mrs. Dolin, and she’s the best second-grade teacher.”

  The two children looked at each other, shrugged, and ran back into the water.

  Esther brushed her hair back behind one ear, revealing a tasteful but gorgeous diamond stud. “I’m looking at the class list, but I don’t recognize most of these kids’ names.”

  Skye scrolled through the attachment. “Well, there’s Ezra, who belongs to Ronnie. She once invited me to a class she attends at nine in the morning—on Tuesdays—for flower arranging. No, no, I’m wrong. Not flowers. Succulents.”

  Esther stared at her, holding her Moscow mule in midair. “Succulents?”

  “Mmm. Yep. Let’s see here. There’s Arlo, who apparently is a genius. Like a real one, not just according to his mother’s assessment.”

  “What makes a six-year-old a genius?” Esther asked, taking a sip.

  “I have no idea. Genetics, probably. The mom is a pediatric neurologist. She has four kids under nine and is some kind of competitive tennis player. Her husband’s also lovely. Plus, they go on the most fabulous family vacations and post loads of pictures and everyone always looks so happy and fulfilled. It’s really…something.”

  Esther laughed. “Are you going to make me beg? Because I will.”

  Skye laughed. “I really, truly don’t know! For a while I figured maybe a drug problem—I mean, how else are you going to do all that without copious amounts of Adderall—but now I’m not so sure. She might just be really competent.”

  “I hate her.”

  “Clearly.” Skye looked across the fenced backyard toward the grill, where Gabe was dutifully tending to the burgers and dogs. “Honey? What’s your timing? Should we get all the kids dried off?”

  In response, Gabe held up a spatula and waved it.

  “I guess that’s a yes?” Esther said. “Thanks for having us over. Holidays are always super weird as a single parent.”

  “Labor Day is not a holiday. Aurora asked us this morning what it celebrated, and neither Gabe nor I could tell her.” She walked toward the spigot and turned off the water. “Kids, it’s time for lunch.”

  Aurora and both of Esther’s children groaned and booed. “Come on,” Skye said, hating how much she sounded like her mother. “If anyone wants ice cream tonight, you’ll go get changed out of your bathing suits.”

  Esther was still staring at her phone. “Who’s Magnolia? My god, dramatic enough name?”

  “Hah! Her mother’s name is Donatella. I don’t know her well, but Aurora had a playdate with Magnolia a few months ago, and Donatella called me the night before to ‘run through’ the schedule. Snacks, outdoor activities, that sort of thing.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Esther said, laying out paper plates with American flags at the children’s picnic table.

  “Not only that, but about thirty seconds after we hung up, I got an email from her summarizing what we’d just discussed.”

  Esther shaded her eyes with her hand and looked at Skye. “Where do we live?”

  “Guess this is not a good time to tell you about Charlie’s mom. She’s in love with her au pair.”

  “So? I’m in love with my au pair, too.” Esther squinted.

  “Yes, but you don’t want to have sex with your au pair.”

  Esther poured water from a pitcher into paper cups. “My life is so boring! I get up, feed my kids, go to work, come home, feed my kids, and do it all over again. Where do these people find the time? I mean, between the shopping and the workouts and the sex with the nannies—I just don’t understand. But…” She looked at Skye.

  “What?”

  “I probably shouldn’t say anything. I’ll jinx it.”

  “Y
ou met someone! Who?”

  “Not my au pair!”

  Skye laughed. She shook a bagful of baby carrots onto a paper plate. “Who is he?”

  “He’s a co-worker. But a new one! He just relocated from the L.A. office. He followed his ex-wife to New York, because she wanted to be near her family and he wanted to be near their children, so…I like that already.”

  “Me too. What’s his name?”

  “Gavin.”

  “That’s it? No last name?”

  Esther shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll see where this goes before giving you full Google capabilities. But…I like him.”

  “Aw, honey, you have no idea how happy this makes me.”

  “It’s really kind of amazing dating at forty, once you already have the kids and the salary and don’t actually need the man. It’s very freeing to focus on whether or not you actually like each other. Anyway. It’s still early.”

  Skye noticed the smallest red spots appear on her friend’s cheeks, and she felt a surge of happiness. Esther never complained—not about work, or about raising two kids alone—and she always said she never had the time or the inclination to date.

  “So, when do I meet him? Maybe you can bring him to dinner? Or if you’d rather go out, we can do that, too. I promise I won’t—” Skye stopped, noticing that Esther was looking across the yard at Gabe, who was barreling toward them.

  “Honey?” Skye called out, trying not to sound irritated that he wasn’t carrying any food. “Everything okay?”

  He had a strange look on his face. “Can I speak with you for a minute?”

  “Ruh-roh,” she heard Esther mutter under her breath.

  “Actually,” Gabe said, turning to Esther, “can we leave Aurora with you? Just for an hour.”