Little Wonders

by Kate Rorick

  Luckily Jamie was there, and he took her for a walk in the afternoon drizzle, telling her everything was going to be great. They must have snuck back in while Daisy was knee deep in toddler faces in want of paint.

  “You’ve really only known her since she’s been pregnant,” Jamie was saying. “But I promise, she’s usually a normal person. Funny and smart and holds our lives together. You really helped her out, stepping up like this.”

  Daisy put her hand on his arm. “She’s just taking care of her health, and the baby’s health. It’s completely understandable.”

  He looked at her strangely for a moment. Then, as if a lightbulb went off over his head, “Oh—you mean the blood pressure thing? Yeah, it really freaked her out when it was slightly elevated. But then they took it again and she was normal.”

  “Normal?” Daisy asked, a strange sour feeling in her stomach.

  “Yeah—and normal every time since. But it’s so great of you to be aware of it, and to give her a break from her Parent Association duties.”

  “Hmm, yeah. That was . . . awesome of me,” Daisy said. She must have come off as self-deprecating because Jamie just laughed.

  “Well, you were there. You knew she bit off more than she could chew with the Parent Association. Like I’ve told her, it’s not a one-man job. So, you stepping up to help—that was really clinch. Good cousin vibes.”

  Jamie, like the darling oblivious man that he was, extended his fist for a bump. Daisy hesitated before dully bumping him back.

  Daisy made her excuses—the Princess Room and face paint awaited—and Jamie ducked away, on the hunt for his wife.

  But, Daisy did not head back to the Princess Room. No, she made a furious beeline straight for Quinn and the Dungeon Room.

  She could not beLIEVE that Shanna had used her health to mock up an excuse to shove off the entire festival onto Daisy’s already stressed shoulders. She was trembling with rage.

  However, she didn’t need to go as far as the Dungeon Room, because just then, Quinn appeared in the auditorium. She had Hamilton and Carrie at her side, Gina trailing behind, having been conscripted to watch the kids while the moms worked the festival.

  “Hey,” Quinn said. “What’s going on?”

  “Do I look that pissed off?” Daisy said. Quinn raised her eyebrows, alarmed.

  “Come to think of it, yes you do—but everyone was just told to come in here for an announcement.”

  Daisy blinked and looked around. The room was being crowded by people streaming in from the other rooms and outside.

  “Daisy, what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, I just know I’m going to K-I-L-L”—spelled out because Carrie and Hamilton were looking at her with decided interest—“Shanna when I see her.”

  Quinn glanced over Daisy’s shoulder. “Well, if you want to begin your homicidal spree, I’d start up there.”

  Daisy turned around, looking up to where Quinn indicated. Shanna was on the little stage, Suzy Breakman-Kang at her side. Shanna looked glowing, resplendent, neat as a pin—not covered in face paint and her hair a mass of frizz. She confidently took the microphone once Zuzu with the rainbow wig had finished “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

  “Everyone? Everyone!” Shanna said into the microphone. The crowd settled. “Hi—for those of you who don’t know me—all two of you”—pause for light chuckles—“I’m Shanna Stone, the Little Wonders Parent Association president.”

  She paused for applause. When only a smattering was forthcoming, she barged ahead.

  “I just wanted to take a moment and say thank you. Because of you, not only did we have a great festival, but according to the tallies,” here Suzy Breakman-Kang held up a clipboard, “we have earned more for the school than any previous year!”

  That earned hearty applause from the audience. Daisy felt a hot glower come up over her face. Of course they earned more money—her Chainmail was netting them thousands! The online auction was inspired! They could do bake sales and sell cookie dough from here to the next Family Fun Fest and they wouldn’t touch that amount.

  And there was Shanna, up on the stage, taking in the applause that belonged to Daisy.

  “That means more fun events for our kids, more supplies for our teachers, and a better Little Wonders!” Shanna beamed. “Now, this festival was not easy to pull off, especially considering our little rain difficulty. But we did manage it, didn’t we?”

  Oh, sure, Daisy thought. We absolutely did.

  “So I want to especially thank Daisy Stone, my cousin and my bestie, for creating the impossible, and giving us this amazing indoor festival!”

  As the applause turned to her, Daisy felt her face heating up—but this time with pride. From the stage, Shanna motioned her to come up.

  Daisy made her way up to the stage, completely in shock, people applauding around her. So this is what it would have been like if she’d ever won an Oscar, she thought. She could hear the announcer now: “Daisy Stone is the first person to win this award for playing a non-cosplay version of herself in a preschool. This is her first nomination.”

  “And . . . a little bird told me that Daisy is soon going to be opening up her own business,” Shanna said into the mic as Daisy climbed up the short steps to the stage. “So if you like comic books and pop culture as much as she does, keep your eyes peeled for her new shop!”

  Daisy met Shanna’s eyes, shocked. She hadn’t shared her business plan with anyone but Rob—how did Shanna know?

  But Shanna was beaming and handed Daisy the mic. She whispered, “Just say thank you!” in Daisy’s ear.

  And for some reason, that made Daisy’s brain start to burn. Daisy had killed herself for Shanna, not just today, but for the past month, and Shanna dared to dictate that she should simply say “thank you”?

  Daisy had a lot more to say than that.

  “Hi, everyone,” Daisy said into the mic. “I appreciate everything and everyone in this room for coming together as a community to pull off this festival, and have a great time doing it. Everything we do is for our kids and seeing them have a blast today makes it all worth it, amirite?”

  Applause at that, and the kids whooped along with their parents.

  “All of the volunteers worked their butts off, but I know I wouldn’t be up here today without the faith and support of one person in particular.” Daisy turned and looked at Shanna, who touched a hand to her heart.

  Daisy smiled directly at Shanna as she said, “Quinn Barrett—thank you so much for everything! Your dedication, creativity, and hard work made today possible—yours, and yours alone.”

  Quinn looked like she was trying to blink SOS in Morse code at Daisy, but Daisy didn’t care. She allowed the applause to transfer to Quinn, and satisfactorily watched as Shanna’s jaw dropped.

  But only for a second, because Shanna was well aware of the stage she stood on. She quickly shook off her shock and grabbed the mic back from Daisy. With an unceremonious, “Suzy is going to pull the raffle basket winners. Have a great festival everyone!” Shanna shoved the mic in Suzy’s hands.

  As the bowls with the raffle tickets and the baskets were brought up to the stage, Shanna grabbed Daisy by the arm and pulled her behind the curtain, just off to the side of the stage.

  “How could you do that to me?” Shanna whirled on Daisy the second they were out of sight.

  “How could I do that to you?” Daisy said, chuffed. “How could you do that to me?”

  “I just wanted to say thank you—and to plug your business idea, Robbie is so excited about it! And you go and . . . and . . .”

  “And thank Quinn for her help?” Daisy asked. “Why is that a bad thing?”

  “Because . . . you know why!” Shanna blurted out.

  “No, I don’t!” Daisy shot back.

  “Hey, um, guys?” It was Quinn as she ducked her head back behind the curtain. “I think we should move this conversation? People can hear you.”

  Daisy glanced at Quinn. Over her sho
ulder, she could see the room beyond—so quiet you could hear a pin drop—not even the kids were making noise. And Suzy certainly wasn’t handing out raffle baskets. No, every ear was tuned to what was happening stage left.

  “God, Quinn, could you just for once get out of my life?” Shanna bit out.

  “Oh, I’m happy to go . . .”

  “No,” Daisy said. “No! You don’t get to talk to her that way. She came through for me when you decided to drop everything in my lap for the Family Fun Fest.”

  “I didn’t drop everything. I needed help,” Shanna replied, her hand going to her swollen belly.

  “No you didn’t,” Daisy replied. “Jamie told me. Your blood pressure is normal, but you used your pregnancy as an excuse to offload your responsibilities onto me. I had no idea what I was doing. I needed help, and it was Quinn who stepped up.”

  “I needed help, too!” Shanna exploded. “I need help all the time! I need someone to give me a house, Daisy. And I could have used someone to help me acclimate to Needleton when I first moved here. I need someone with a child who can be Jordan’s friend—you think I don’t know that she’s a bully? You think I don’t know she’s the one who spread ‘Poopybutt’ like a virus? I have absolutely no idea how to stop it! I don’t know how I’m going to manage a second kid, because no doubt I’m going to screw this one up, too. I need friends. You were supposed to be my friend. But then you went and decided that Quinn was better than me. Just like Jamie did.”

  Daisy mouth fell open like a fish. Shanna’s nose had gone all red, and tears were threatening her eyes. Quinn was stock-still. Daisy made a few noises before she managed to form a coherent thought.

  “Jamie . . . Jamie doesn’t think Quinn is better than you. He was just telling me about how you keep his life together, how you’re his best friend.”

  “He thinks Quinn is better.” She turned her heated gaze to Quinn. “He spent every waking hour raving about you last year. He got so mad when I took on the president position, saying that if Quinn couldn’t do it, no one could. He was crazy about you.”

  “I . . . I don’t have an answer for that,” Quinn said, bewildered. “Other than to say that nothing went on between Jamie and me—he was my copresident.”

  Pieces began to fall into place for Daisy. Jealousy. Shanna’s driving motive for hating Quinn was jealousy. But not over her perceived perfection, doing all and being all as a wife, mother, and career woman—it was over something much more fundamental.

  “No,” Shanna said. “He was—is—my husband. But you never thought of him as that—as made very clear by your own husband!”

  “What?” screeched Quinn. “What does Stuart have to do with this?”

  “Last year, when you invited us over for dinner—”

  “You turned us down.”

  “Because your husband had let it drop what kind of dinner it would be. What kind of marriage that you had. He said he had no problem with your interest in Jamie, because he had his eye on me.”

  “That . . . that’s not true,” Quinn sputtered. “Stuart would never say anything like that. You—you must have misunderstood!”

  Gasps and rumbles were making their way from the room beyond the curtain. Daisy was suddenly very, very aware of how public the conversation had become.

  “Guys, let’s take a breather; Shanna, come with me—”

  But Shanna wasn’t listening. She had fury and triumph written all over her face, no doubt the only thing in her vision the sputtering Quinn.

  “What, you didn’t know you were in an open marriage?” Shanna sneered at Quinn. “Oh my, how sad. Oh. My.”

  Quinn’s sputtering stopped. She grew uncomfortably silent. Uncommonly still.

  It took a moment for what was happening to sink in.

  Oh. My.

  Daisy could practically see Quinn’s mind working. It was turning over and over what Shanna had just said. But the moment Quinn looked up, Daisy knew she hadn’t focused on the content. No, she’d focused on . . .

  Oh. My.

  “It was you,” Quinn said softly.

  “What?” Shanna replied.

  “It was you—‘Oh. My.’ You said that, on the Halloween video, exactly like you just did. You . . . you’re the one who made the video.”

  Shanna stared at her for a moment, and then . . . a great puff of laughter left her chest. Followed by snorts and giggles of growing hysteria.

  “No . . . Quinn, no . . . ,” Daisy tried, stepping her body in between Shanna and Quinn.

  “You . . . you think this is funny?” Quinn was saying. “You ruined my life! Why? Because you thought my husband made a pass at you?”

  “No— No, Quinn, she didn’t!”

  But Quinn just advanced on Shanna, Daisy stopping her from getting more than a half step.

  “You’re lucky you’re pregnant, or else I’d . . . I’d . . .”

  “It wasn’t me,” Shanna said, getting her laughter under control.

  “Seriously? You think I’d believe that?”

  “It wasn’t me,” Shanna said again, this time more sober. And as she slid her eyes over to Daisy, Quinn’s eyes followed.

  “I didn’t make that video, Quinn,” Shanna said, biting out the words. “I didn’t post it online. I didn’t ruin your life.”

  But Quinn didn’t even look at Shanna. She had her eyes firmly on Daisy’s.

  Daisy could hardly believe how easily the words came out of her mouth.

  “Shanna didn’t do it. I did.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Quinn wasn’t entirely sure how she got home. She only knew that she managed to find Gina and a lizard-faced Hamilton, got them into the car, and started driving. Hamilton may or may not have pitched a fit about leaving the festival. The truth was, Quinn was so focused on getting home, she couldn’t think about anything other than getting there.

  Now they were back in their house, and Hamilton was upstairs washing off the lizard in a Gina-supervised bath.

  Quinn couldn’t help but think of her life only twenty-four—nay, twelve hours ago. She had finished a hard week’s work on the install of the nursery just the night before. She was flush with success. She was awakened by her friend calling, who needed her help. She had been driven by the desire to be of use and the pride that she was the right person for the job.

  And Daisy . . . Daisy had been the best friend she’d been craving her entire adult life.

  She was happy and fulfilled.

  Wasn’t she?

  As Quinn wandered through her still, quiet house, that question hung in the silent air.

  There was no denying the elephant in the room—or rather, the missing elephant.

  Because Stuart wasn’t there.

  He’d texted earlier in the day, saying he’d gotten pulled into assisting on another surgery, and he wouldn’t make the festival. To be honest, Quinn had been working so hard, she didn’t care very much. Having Stuart there meant she would have had to focus on him—on pleasing him. And it was a bit of a relief to not have to worry about that.

  Because previous to this, it was all she had been focused on.

  After the The Brand New House interview, when Stuart finally came home from his impromptu visit to the hospital, Quinn had been anticipating their conversation. The one she had been begging for, spoiling for, to finally put them on the same page about their marriage. She had waited patiently for him to talk.

  And he did.

  “I’m sorry,” he’d said. Stuart had gotten home late from the hospital and climbed on the bike in the basement right after dinner. When she’d emerged from Hamilton’s room after an extra half hour of reading time before he was willing to fall asleep, Stuart was halfway through a biathlon. So she’d waited some more, until after he got off the bike, until after he’d taken a shower, until after they were both about to crawl into bed.

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated, when her face didn’t register a change. “You’re right, I need to start doing more around here. I n
eed to be more present, more supportive. On a daily basis, not just when I can make it fit in my schedule.” He looked at her with love, with that romance novel gaze.

  “It’s . . . it’s good to hear you say that,” she said, solemnly. “But I don’t understand why you thought it was okay to leave in the first place.”

  He blinked, the romance novel face falling away. No doubt he thought the argument was over. But it wasn’t that easy this time. “Because I didn’t feel like I had your support.”

  “You . . . didn’t have my support?” Quinn couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “My job—it’s stressful, and I just want things to be happy and calm when I get home—it’s my escape.”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Quinn had said. That’s what she had been doing before—striving for perfection, making Stuart’s and her life Instagrammable and amazing. And it had nearly broken her.

  “I know, because you always seemed like you were focused on other things,” he’d said.

  “Now, hold on—”

  “Okay, please don’t get upset,” Stuart said, holding up his hands, trying to make peace. “I’m just answering your question. Now I’m going to be more involved. I promise. But . . . can we continue this discussion tomorrow? Or later?” He sighed deeply. “The surgery today, it didn’t go well.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she’d said automatically. Surprisingly she hadn’t picked up on it—usually she could tell immediately when a surgery had been unsuccessful. But she had been so intent on having this conversation, no doubt she had missed his mood.

  “The patient is still in critical care. I have to go back tomorrow to check on him, see if we’ll be able to go back in.”

  “Tomorrow?” Which was Saturday.

  “Yes—and I’m on call all next week. So please, let’s get some sleep. We both need it.”