by Kim Gatlin
Amanda shrugged. “It’s about as good as any. I may get distracted every so often if a mover needs to ask me where to put something, but otherwise, I’m all yours. What’s up?”
“It’s the Longhorn Ball,” Heather said.
“What about it?” A mover held up an unmarked carton for Amanda’s consideration. “Beats me. Put it anywhere. Living room, I guess.”
The mover nodded and continued up the stairs, barely missing contact with Will and his skateboard.
“Will,” Amanda said, raising her voice, “could you please find somewhere else to skateboard right now? Why don’t you skate over to Gigi’s place and watch a video?” That was one of the great things about the neighborhood—you could still feel comfortable sending your children off by themselves, as long as it was within Hillside Park. Amanda had never felt safe sending her children anywhere around Newport Beach, because there was so much traffic zipping around, and also because everybody just seemed so crazy. At least compared to Hillside Park, anyway. Although who knows, Amanda thought—maybe they’re just as crazy here, too. Maybe they just feel more of a need to hide it here, unlike in California, where you can be as crazy as you want and nobody seems to care one way or the other.
“We were talking about the Longhorn Ball,” Heather said, a trace of impatience in her voice. She wished she’d remembered to reapply her lip gloss. Those diet pills always left her feeling parched and dry.
“Oh, of course,” Amanda said wearily. “It’s just too much to keep track of, between the children and the boxes and the furniture. Okay. What about the Ball?”
“We’re wondering if you’d be interested in taking more of an active role,” Sharon said delicately. “We know you’ve been an inactive member all these years.”
Amanda thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I’d love to, but I don’t see how. At least not this year. I’ve got so much going on right now, what with the children and the house. I think I’d better stay inactive. I don’t even know anybody anymore. I wouldn’t even know who to ask for what. You know what I mean?”
“Sure, sure. We know what you mean,” Heather said, digging in. This was obviously going to be a harder sell than either she or Sharon had anticipated.
“We were thinking,” Sharon began, choosing her words carefully, “about the fact that, well, you know the Longhorn Ball is in shambles right now.”
Amanda bit her lip. “I know that something happened yesterday with Susie,” she said, wanting to walk the fine line between staying out of other people’s business and satisfying her curiosity about what had happened. With everything going on in her life—the mysterious black Mercedes, the unexpected heart-to-heart with her mother, Will’s anger, and the business of the move—she had forgotten all about Susie.
“Poor Susie,” Sharon said, making a clucking sound.
“I tell you what,” Heather said. “I think the chief of police of Hillside Park is going to be looking for a new job.”
“A new career, you mean,” Sharon said with a snort. “And not in law enforcement. I think Edward Caruth is gonna make sure he never gets near another badge or gun anywhere in the fifty states.”
“Uh-huh,” Heather agreed. “Anyway, Susie’s okay. But she definitely left everybody in Hillside Park with a bad taste in their mouths about the whole Longhorn Ball. So the question is . . . how do you get the Ball back to where it was?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been out of the loop for so long,” Amanda said.
“Well, the way you make anything better,” Heather said, answering her own question, “is with great people. It takes great people to restore a great institution . . . to . . . greatness. Right?”
“Right,” Sharon chimed in, although she sounded a little less convinced, to Amanda’s ear, than Heather.
“Where’s all this going, ladies?” Amanda asked warily. “If you’d like me to write a check, I’ll be happy to. But I don’t—”
“Let me cut to the chase,” Heather interrupted. “We all love, love Susie. She made a lot of money—made, collected, extorted—who really knows? But she left dead bodies everywhere. She messed everything up, and now the whole thing’s just . . . a disaster! I heard from some of the girls in the office that all the records of donations from previous years are lost. The Pediatric Foundation’s madder than heck at us, even though we gave them more money than ever. They may not even want to be associated with us anymore. So there’s a lot of fence-mending that needs to be done. And the question is, who’s best to take on a job like that? Who’s got credibility with everybody in Hillside Park—all the businessmen, all the wives, all the corporate interests? Who hasn’t been tarnished by this whole thing?”
“Everybody in town is so disgusted with Susie,” Sharon added, “because of her high-handed attitude. Just about everybody involved with the whole thing is saying, ‘I don’t want anything to do with it.’ Somebody’s got to take on the responsibility of making sure that one of the most important events on the Dallas social calendar, not to mention one of the most important philanthropic events in the city of Dallas, doesn’t dry up and disappear.”
“Somebody who’s solid and level-headed,” Heather said. “Somebody who’s been away from town for a while, and therefore didn’t get caught up in the whole crazy thing with Susie. Someone who is an insider and grew up in Hillside Park, and knows how we do things here, but someone who isn’t tainted by what went on last year.”
“ ‘We,’ Heather?” Amanda had to laugh at her undeserved ownership of the neighborhood. Suddenly it dawned on Amanda what they were asking her to take on.
“You want me,” she began slowly, “to be Chair of the Longhorn Ball?”
There was a smash in the background, and Amanda yelled to Will, “For goodness’ sake, Will! You nearly knocked over that mover! Okay, that’s it! I’ve had it! If I have to ask you one more time to stay out of these people’s way, you’re gonna be grounded until Jesus comes again, and I mean it!”
Her son glared at her. Heather studied her carefully. Sharon toyed anxiously with her flashy Pomellato ring, trying in vain to spin it around a pinky that had swelled from the heat.
Amanda shook her head. “I can’t do it. I can’t even begin to express how honored I am that you would ask, what with my being back in town just a couple of days and everything. But surely there have to be dozens of more qualified people than myself. I don’t know anyone anymore. I don’t know who runs what business. My ex-husband didn’t do business in Dallas. Thank God for that. But still. In fact, I can’t think of anybody less qualified to run the thing than me. Even if I had the time, which I don’t. I just have to say no.”
Heather and Sharon glanced at each other. They were expecting a rejection on the first ask, and, veteran salespeople that they were, they knew that selling only began when the customer said no. Someone once told Heather that she was such a good saleswoman, she could talk anyone into anything. Considering her natural expertise, she wasn’t too worried about Amanda Vaughn.
“For thirty-three years,” Heather began, in a speech that she had prepared, and in tones so ringing you could almost hear background music as she spoke, “the Longhorn Ball has been, like, the most important philanthropic event for the women of Dallas. We’ve raised close to forty million dollars for pediatric care and scientific research. I know we’ve improved the quality of life for many. You’re very fortunate in that you’ve got two healthy children right here. But you and I both know that we’ve seen a lot of people go through a world, just a world of pain—”
Amanda put her hand up.
“You’re killing me over here!” she exclaimed, laughing. “I know the Ball does a ton of good work, and I feel the same way you do. I’d hate to see it go away. But I just don’t have the time or the mental energy right now. I’m honored that you asked, but you’re going to have to ask someone else. I don’t even know if I’ll have time to serve on a committee, let alone be Chair. Especially in a year where there’s so much damage c
ontrol and repair to do. I have enough of that in my personal life, as I discovered in Bible study yesterday.”
Now it was Sharon’s turn. They figured if the “sick children” thing didn’t get to Amanda, they’d have to try an alternate route.
“There’s another reason to think about doing it,” Sharon said, leveling her shoulders and ignoring as best she could the fact that Amanda had given them a big, fat, flat-out no. “You’re just getting reestablished here in Hillside Park. It’s tough. It’s got to be lonely. I’m gonna fess up and tell you the truth. A lot of women know you from growing up here—a lot have moved in and established themselves since you left and don’t know you at all. Some are gonna perceive you as a threat, because you’re pretty and you’re young and you’ve got your own money—you’re quite the catch, and you’re the newest single girl in the neighborhood. And this would just be a great way for you to show people here in Hillside Park that you’re here to contribute. You’re not after anybody’s husband, you’re not after anybody’s boyfriend, you’re who you are—a great lady with the same deep sense of community your family has.”
Amanda studied Sharon, and found herself realizing that she’d given Sharon the benefit of the doubt for way too long. How could they have been so close back then? Maybe they were both different then—or more alike. The marriage to Bill had definitely been a sobering experience and had helped Amanda get her feet on the ground in a way that she might not have been able to understand in the past. But this was a very strange selling point.
“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” Amanda said, trying not to sound curt or dismissive of the woman who had been her best friend all those years ago. “You want me to be Chair of the Longhorn Ball not just because it’s a good cause and somebody needs to rescue it from what happened this past year, but because it’s a way for me to prove to the women of Hillside Park that I’m not after their men? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Not exactly,” Sharon said, backpedaling furiously. “What I meant was—”
“I understand what you meant,” Amanda said, shaking her head wearily. “It’s exactly what you said. You’re saying people are going to perceive me as a threat. I’m saying not everybody thinks like that. Like you. And if people want to think the worst of me, let them. There is nothing I can do about that. I just don’t have time to worry about it. Ladies, I really appreciate the pie, the flowers, the hospitality, and the invitation, but it’s just not for me. Okay?”
Sharon and Heather looked grimly at each other. They had taken their best shots, and they had failed.
“Will you at least think it over?” Heather asked hopefully.
Sharon cut in to give it one more try. “Amanda, everyone just loves you so much and has always had so much respect for you and knows you to be a wonderful Christian girl from a nice Christian family. They know you’d treat people well, you’re organized, and you were quite the fund-raiser when you lived here before—always a good steward of the donors’ money. You have great leadership skills. It’d be a fun year for everyone coming out of that disaster.”
Amanda shook her head, but her mind was already on the movers. “Let’s have lunch sometime, girls,” she said. “I just have to turn my attention back to what’s goin’ on over here. Thanks for coming by. I appreciate the visit. I really do! Bye, y’all.”
She was irritated by the tactics of her unannounced and uninvited guests. Amanda never had been able to stand being ambushed, and this was a perfect example of why. She called out more orders to movers carrying in Sarah’s bed.
Heather and Sharon, dejected, said their good-byes and trudged down the steps toward the Jag.
When they got inside, they took a last look back at Amanda directing the movers. “The nerve of that girl,” Heather said, reaching for her tube of lip gloss as she started the car. “She’s gonna be much tougher than I thought.”
“I don’t know that we’d be able to get men to lose interest in her if she were running a small country,” Sharon said. “She’s so damn strong. She’s confident, and she looks great. She wasn’t even wearing any makeup.”
“She’s strong enough to stand up to the two of us,” Heather said with grudging admiration. “Time to figure out a Plan B.”
“I guess we’ll have to.” Sharon glanced down at her cleavage. At least she was superior to Amanda in that department. “You got one?”
“Nope. Not a one, not a single one. She turned down a free Mercedes. And she turned down being the Chair of the Longhorn Ball. I guess some people just can’t even begin to know how to be happy.”
“We’ll think of something, sweetie,” Sharon said consolingly.
“You got that right,” Heather said. “She’s not gonna get away with this, no way.”
“Ain’t no way in hell,” Sharon grumbled in determined accord.
They sped off to rethink Amanda’s demise.
Chapter 11
Dinner for Amanda, Sarah, and Will consisted of pizza at a neighborhood Italian place that had been a favorite of Amanda’s while she was growing up. It felt comfortable and familiar, even though the décor was tacky and hadn’t been updated since it was opened. The place was reputed to be a mob hangout, but since crime in Dallas was more disorganized than organized, there was little evidence for that claim. It was more of a local joke than anything.
Amanda couldn’t help but notice the four older women seated at a nearby table who kept staring at her and talking to one another. They were all well-dressed and had beautiful faces, but each of them was slightly to considerably overweight and they all wore their hair much longer than was really appropriate for women their age.
About the same time she noticed the women, Nancy McRae, Amanda’s sweet girlfriend from high school, popped into the restaurant dressed in a simple but elegant Tory Burch tank and slacks.
“Oh, my gosh, Nancy!” Amanda exclaimed, rising from her seat.
“Amanda! Welcome home! I called your mom—didn’t she tell you?”
Amanda, who had just about decided that everyone here had either not changed a bit for the better, or left, was very excited to get reacquainted with Nancy. Nancy was drop-dead gorgeous, smart as a whip, and had a heart of gold. In addition to having a great sense of humor, she was a great wife and mother. Her husband was the ultimate good guy. He was handsome, successful, crazy about his wife, and a doting father. They were just the kind of people others felt good to be around.
“She told me,” Amanda answered, her tone apologetic, as she and Nancy hugged. “I’ve just been so busy unpacking.”
“I’m just so happy to see you. You look great.”
“No, you look great. As always.” Amanda dropped her voice to a whisper. “Do you recognize any of the women at the table behind me?”
Nancy glanced in their direction. “No, why?”
“They kept staring at me and talking about me and weren’t even the least bit discreet about it. They were so obvious, it was just rude!”
Nancy, taking a seat at Amanda’s table, waved her hand dismissively.
“Oh, honey, they probably just heard you were home. It’s all over town that you’re back. And I’m sure they were talking about you and have already decided they hate you, but who could blame them? Those women look like rejects from auditions for Hairspray. They represent the generation of stereotypical Texas women that you and I are so desperately trying to live down.” They both laughed, realizing they weren’t quite free from judgment, either.
Sarah and Will, who till now had remained uncharacteristically silent, giggled.
“You guys remember Nancy,” Amanda said by way of introduction.
“Hi, Ms. McRae,” the children chorused.
“Nice to see you two back where you belong,” Nancy told them. “Do you like this restaurant?”
Sarah said she liked the place well enough, but Will pronounced his two-word condemnation, “It sucks!” on everything from the décor to the waitstaff to the food itself.
“Well, he’s honest!” Nancy said, suppressing a grin. “Let’s talk, okay, sweetie?” She gave Amanda a kiss on the cheek and got up to leave. “Hang in there. Don’t let the gossips get you down.”
“I’ll call you,” Amanda promised.
Dinner and the remainder of the evening were trials for Amanda, thanks to the unfriendly stares and Will’s grumpy attitude. But then she drove by a skate park the town fathers of Hillside Park had thoughtfully provided for skateboard-addicted adolescents like Will. His eyes practically popped out of his head when he saw the ragtag collection of stoners, X Games wannabes, and other young people. Suddenly Will had a reason for living, especially when he noticed that some of the skaters were actually girls. Amanda promised they’d check it out next weekend.
The family had something of an adventure before bedtime, finally locating bedding in the thirtieth of the fifty or so boxes strewn across the living room floor. Amanda felt a measure of fear and depression as she imagined what her days would be like going forward. It would be getting the children up and ready for school in the morning, easy with Sarah and a nightmare endeavor with Will, followed by days alone in the massive house, unpacking boxes, and then angry evenings with Will, trying to get him to bed, so they could start the whole miserable routine all over the next day. For the first time since she had left Newport Beach, Amanda wanted to cry. After the children had gone to sleep, she came back downstairs to see if she could make some headway on the unpacking. The more boxes she unloaded, the more she felt as though she had gone to her own yard sale and overpaid for everything.
Her cell phone rang around nine p.m. It was her mother. “You still awake?”
“That’s a yes,” Amanda said, staring at the boxes everywhere. “I’m such an orderly person that the idea of going to bed with all these boxes half full just makes me crazy.”
“With all that stuff you’ve got,” Elizabeth said, “I don’t know what possessed you to go to Neiman’s and buy everything in the store. But you obviously did, because a bunch of clothes from Neiman’s was delivered to my house this afternoon.”