by Nancy Star
Trissy called back in fifteen minutes. “Looks great. Nothing out of the ordinary that I can see. I’m comfortable with it. I think you’re good to go.”
“Thanks,” Annie said. “I guess I better get to work. Which means I guess I’m not going to the Asteroid parents meeting tonight.”
“Why not?” Trissy asked.
“I’ve got too much to do.”
“That’s not okay,” Trissy said. “You can’t miss the first meeting. You can miss a meeting later in the season, maybe. But the first meeting? No. Believe me, you don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with that group. Can’t you do your work tomorrow, or when you get home from the meeting tonight?”
“I could,” Annie explained. “But Tim’s in Atlanta and Charlotte’s sick. I can’t leave Charlotte home alone sick to go to a soccer meeting.”
“I thought Tim was home,” Trissy said. “I thought I saw him. Or was that yesterday? It doesn’t matter. Here’s the important thing. This is not just a soccer meeting. It’s the soccer kickoff meeting. And soccer teams don’t understand sick. They interpret sick to mean lack of commitment. Believe me, for Charlotte’s sake, you have to go. You don’t want her to be shunned, do you?”
“Of course not,” Annie said.
“Tell you what. I’ll come over and watch her,” Trissy offered. “My kids are all scattered around town anyway. I’m just sitting here by myself. I might as well do something useful.”
Annie gave mild resistance but not for long. After all, she didn’t want Charlotte to be shunned.
By the time she got back downstairs, Charlotte was awake and hungry. “I feel a lot better. Can I go to camp tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Annie said.
“Can I go to the soccer meeting tonight?” she asked.
“Aunt Trissy’s already on her way over to stay with you.”
“Can you keep me company till she gets here?” Charlotte asked.
“Sure,” Annie said. “I just have to do one more thing.”
She ran up to her office, printed out the confidentiality agreement, signed it, and faxed it to Sondra. She emailed Sondra that it was on its way and then logged off of everything.
By the time she got back downstairs Trissy was sitting in her spot on the couch. “What are you bringing for the potluck?” Trissy asked.
Annie decided not to admit she’d forgotten all about it. “I have to run,” she said instead, and grabbed her coat. She was already late. Now she had to stop at the grocery store to buy something that looked lovingly homemade so Charlotte wouldn’t be shunned.
Thirteen
It was late to shop for dinner. The prepared food section of the store had been picked over and stripped. All that remained were four individually wrapped portions of vegetarian lasagna.
Annie bought them, and a large aluminum foil tin to put them in. Using the trunk of her car as a counter, she transferred the four large rectangles of food into the tin, and tried to spread out the cheese on top so it looked like it was of one piece. But the cheese was cold and immovable, so she quickly covered it with foil, and hoped no one would know it was hers.
Mountain Ridge was not well lit at night. Annie cruised slowly, looking for addresses, wondering why so few people put them where they could be seen. Luckily, a dozen parked cars served as a signpost that she had arrived at the right block. Finding the house was easy. It was the one that was completely lit up. Through the large picture window in the living room, Annie could see people, heads tilted, talking, laughing—a spirited meeting in progress.
She walked in through the open front door, ducked into the dining room, where she deposited her dinner contribution on an empty table, and found a seat in the living room where the meeting was under way.
It wasn’t until the first subcommittee member gave her report on the lunchtime enrichment program that Annie be- gan to suspect she’d made a mistake. She leaned over to the blonde, pleasant-looking woman to her right.
“Excuse me. What meeting is this?”
The woman looked puzzled at the question. “South Mountain Elementary School PTA Board Summer Kickoff.”
Another woman began her committee report, updating the group on the fund-raising efforts for the speaker system in the auditorium.
Annie stood up. Everyone looked at her. The woman stopped speaking.
“Sorry,” Annie said. She took her cell phone out of her purse and held it up. “Emergency at home. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”
“Who was that?” she heard someone ask as she left.
By the time she found Gerri Picker’s house, she was nearly an hour late.
“Don’t sweat it,” Gerri said when she came to the door. “At least you didn’t completely blow us off.” She stuck her head outside and looked around. “Where’s the rest of your family?”
“Tim’s out of town,” Annie explained. “And Charlotte’s sick.”
“You could have brought her,” Gerri said. “We’re not that uptight.”
Annie apologized for leaving Charlotte at home. She followed closely behind as Gerri cruised quickly through her formal living room, decorated in a Washington-once-lived-here style, and a dining room where the long table was completely covered with empty casseroles.
“I forgot my lasagna,” Annie said. “I went to the wrong house first,” she explained.
Gerri didn’t care. “We’re done eating anyway. Unless you have dessert.”
“No,” Annie said. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Gerri said. “We’ll deal.” She continued on to a large open kitchen and family room. At the far end was a furniture showroom’s worth of couches arranged in a square. Annie followed Gerri to where the group sat.
Gerri clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Hold on, people. Before you massacre each other, say hello to Charlotte Fleming’s mom, Annie.”
A few people nodded. One smiled. Everyone but Annie wore a name tag. Annie took a seat.
“We were just discussing the Power,” Gerri explained. “A few people are still hoping their kids will be moved up to that team.”
“Does that happen?” Annie asked. “Do kids get moved around after they’re sorted?”
“Not often,” Gerri said. “But I thought it would be helpful to go over the roster, talk about the standings, and make a plan for the future.”
Perfect, Annie thought. She loved to plan for the future, and standings, whatever they were, sounded important.
“How can there be standings?” asked a man whose name tag read “Chip.” “The season hasn’t officially started.”
“Look it,” Gerri said. “I’m just telling you what I know. And I know that three Power players are at risk of being dropped from the team.”
“Why are they at risk of that?” Annie whispered to the woman next to her. But the woman seemed not to hear her.
“Who exactly are we talking about?” Chip took a notebook out of his pocket and got his pen ready.
Gerri leaned forward in her chair. “This cannot leave the room.”
Everyone else leaned forward, so Annie leaned forward too.
“I’m not saying these three spots will be available for any of our girls,” Gerri said. “All I’m saying is three players on Winslow’s team, Rose, Gwen, and Bobbi, are going to get booted off.”
Several people scribbled down the information.
“Why Bobbi?” asked a woman, name tag Pat, as she tapped notes into a palm pilot. “Bobbi is the Power’s only goalie. They need a goalie. Why would he get rid of her?”
“I can’t go into details,” said Gerri. “But I can guarantee my intelligence is correct. Those three players are going by the end of the season.”
“I don’t understand,” Annie said. “Going where?”
“Let’s just hope they’re not coming here,” Pat snapped. “Especially Bobbi. She was so mean during tryouts. She made Winnie cry.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll all move out of town,” Chip said.
/>
Annie started to laugh, but apparently Chip wasn’t kidding.
“You think that’s funny?” he snapped. “A person moves here because they hear the soccer is top notch, they end up on a nothing team, and you’re laughing?”
“This is not a nothing team,” Gerri protested.
“I’m just saying,” said Chip.
“Let’s stay on point,” said the woman next to Annie, name tag Mona.
“Right.” Gerri checked her clipboard. “Next item is our flight. As you all know we’ve been flighted by the soccer board as a B team, but after careful consideration I have requested that they move us down to C.”
“Why would you do that?” asked a woman, name tag Peggy Ann.
“If we want a better record,” Gerri said, “we have to play teams that are on our level. Face it, moving down is the only way we’re ever going to win.”
“Is there a morgue flight?” asked name tag Lloyd. “Because I think the only way we’re going to win is if we play a team of dead people.”
Annie noticed several people on one side of the room were rolling their eyes. Several on the other side scowled back. There were factions.
“Speaking of the morgue,” Chip muttered.
A man walked into the room, tall, big, and awkward, avoiding eye contact as he lumbered to the sofa.
“Can I sit here?” he asked in the general direction of the nearest couch.
“You won’t fit there, Roy,” Chip said. “And you’re just not cute enough to sit on my lap.”
Roy didn’t smile.
“You can bring in the piano bench from the parlor,” Gerri suggested.
Roy left to get the bench. When he came back he squeezed the bench into the small space next to the couch where Annie sat. His girth made the bench look flimsy, as if it were constructed out of matchsticks, ready to break under him.
“Moving along,” Gerri said. “I want to go over some new rules for parent conduct.” She looked at Peggy Ann. “This season there is to be no coaching from the sidelines.”
“I never coach,” Peggy Ann said. “I encourage.”
“Attack is not an encouragement word,” Gerri said. “Neither is kick, kill, or eat them.”
“I don’t know why we suddenly need so many rules,” said Mona. “The team is doing fine.”
“You think we’re doing fine?” Peggy Ann asked. “Last year the only game we won was against a team one step up from cripples.”
“Could you please not use the word cripples,” Mona said.
“Don’t tell me what words I can use,” Peggy Ann snapped back. “It’s a free country and if I want to say cripples, I will. Okay? Cripples.”
Lloyd stood up. “For the record, I would like to say you’re making me embarrassed to be on this team.”
“Really?” a woman said from the other side of the room. “Then quit. It’s not like your daughter is making a contribution on the field.”
Annie could sort the factions out now. Four people on one side of the room were shouting. Four people on the other side were shouting back. The rest looked on with the dull gaze of the resigned. This wasn’t the first time a meeting had degenerated into a shouting match.
“Come on,” a voice called from the hall. “They’re fighting again.” A herd of girls tumbled into the room to watch.
“Out,” Gerri ordered. “Back to the basement. Now.”
The girls immediately retreated.
“Next on my list,” Gerri said loudly to get everyone’s attention, “is winter training. I’ve been working with Winslow to get us a slot in the new Soccer-Plex as soon as it opens. The girls need to keep up their training through the off-season.”
“Got those toilets flushing yet, Roy?” Chip asked. He turned to Annie and winked. “Roy here is personally putting in all the toilets in the Soccer-Plex.”
Annie heard a noise—Roy grinding his teeth.
“So if your daughter complains that her little deposits aren’t disappearing fast enough,” Chip went on, “this is the man to call. Right, Roy?”
More laughter.
Roy stared into his lap.
“Can we have a show of hands?” Gerri said. “Who wants to participate in indoor winter training?”
Annie saw hands go up all around the room, so she raised hers too.
Gerri glanced around, writing down names. “Not you, Roy?”
“We have other plans,” Roy said.
“Ooh,” Chip said. “Other plans.” He wiggled his fingers in the air.
Again Annie heard the sound of gnashing teeth.
Gerri checked her clipboard. “Great. All that’s left is sign-up for the volunteer positions.”
Almost at once, everyone stood. There was a loud chorus of “Got to go.” Children’s names were shouted in urgent voices. Annie was carried along in the crush of escaping families.
“Wait up,” Gerri called, clutching her clipboard as she followed them outside. “Okay. We can have sign-up at the next meeting. Don’t forget our first game is Sunday, Cunningham Park, at noon.”
Car doors opened, and slammed.
“Remember to check your snack schedules,” she called.
More car doors slammed.
“Oh—and I need someone to volunteer to stay with the girls at the field after practice on Tuesdays because I can’t. Can anyone help out on that?”
A chorus of car starters answered her.
There was a lot Annie didn’t understand, but one thing she knew was how to step up and help out. “I can,” she volunteered.
“Super-ific,” Gerri said as she ran over to Annie’s car. “Thank you so much.” She leaned into the open window. “It’s not a big deal. All you have to do is stay on the field until all the girls are picked up. Because we can’t leave them unattended in the park.”
“I understand,” Annie said. That sounded simple enough.
“Most of the parents come on time,” Gerri added. “Except for Peggy Ann and Mona and Chip. Actually my advice on that is just carpool with them. I don’t mean that they’ll ever take your kid to practice or anything. But if you take their kids home every week, at least you know you’ll get home at a decent hour. If that sounds okay. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Annie said. “It sounds great.”
“What job did you sign up for?” Trissy asked when Annie got home.
“I’m supervising pickup at the park after Tuesday practice,” Annie said, “which apparently means driving a bunch of kids home every week.”
“The old one-way carpool,” Trissy said. “Not bad for a beginner. You could have done much worse.”
“Thanks,” Annie said.
“I mean it,” Trissy said. “I never thought I’d see the day, but you’re turning out to be a natural born soccer mom. I guess you were just a late bloomer, that’s all.”
Normally, this was exactly the kind of comment that would make Annie bristle. But now she saw that in her own odd way Trissy meant it as a compliment.
Could it be, Annie wondered, that she had actually cracked the code?
She said good night to her sister-in-law and smiled. Maybe this was it. Maybe she had finally figured out how to work out her life at home.
Fourteen
It felt like only minutes between the time Annie went to sleep and the time her alarm went off, at six o’clock.
She forced herself out of bed. Today, there was no time for the Snooze button, no time for a leisurely rise to consciousness. Today, she had to stay on course. Because now she knew it only took a day to fall behind. And Annie was not a fall-behind kind of person. She did not believe in the shortcut, the catch-up, or the work-around. She believed in dedication, concentration, and hard work.
A faint voice in her brain sent the question: Are you sure you don’t need to hire a babysitter?
Yes, she told herself. She could do this. It was simply a matter of staying on course.
She brewed a pot of extra-strong coffee and chugged t
wo mugs fast. Clearly, one cup a morning was not going to be adequate. This was what she had to do—tweak her work-from-home strategy to rev up her focus. All systems had to be on full blast.
First decision: Getting up at six was a luxury she could no longer afford. Tomorrow she’d get up at five.
She poured a third cup of coffee and took it with her up to her office where she sat down to write up her Plan for the Day. Today it was beautifully simple, with a short and clear mission: Read through the Zaxtec folder and formulate a complete and comprehensive response with recommended course of action and timetable.
She turned off her phone and her BlackBerry, and closed her office door. She had exactly half an hour before she had to get Charlotte up for camp—just enough time to get started. After the camp drop-off she would come home and work straight through until today’s plan was done.
Her desk was orderly. Her mind was clear. She took the folder out of its envelope. A flicker of worry passed through her brain like an electrical current, but she didn’t stop to wonder why. The flood of dread came a moment later when she opened the folder. She saw it before she understood it. A single piece of paper lay inside, the cover sheet to a long document that had not been included.
Mimi had messed up.
Annie picked up her BlackBerry, turned it on, and scrolled through the dozen emails from Sondra. The early ones were offers of encouragement and support, but they quickly turned anxious until they reached a crescendo of panic.
“ARE YOU THERE?” the last one read. “OR ARE YOU DEAD?”
Annie called all the numbers Mimi had given her for Sondra, but Sondra wasn’t anywhere. So Annie called the last number Mimi had given her, which was Mimi’s number at home.
“The folder is empty,” Annie told her.
“Oh God,” Mimi said. “Oh God. Oh no. Okay. You can’t tell Sondra. I beg of you. I’ll fix it. I’ll get everything to you this morning. I’m leaving for the office right now. I’ll call you back as soon as I get there.”
The phone rang only moments later.
“That was quick,” Annie said.
“Pardon me?”
It wasn’t Mimi. “I’m sorry,” Annie said. “Who is this?”