by Kate Rorick
“You know what you’re going to do?” Daisy asked as they parked the car.
“Uh-huh.” Quinn nodded. She’d expected butterflies in her stomach. Instead it felt like a ball of cold lead had settled there, giving her the weight she needed to make an impact.
“What if he’s not there?” Shanna asked.
“He is.”
Quinn had texted Stuart, asking if he wanted to meet for dinner. He’d lied and said he was just grabbing a bite before he headed back into the hospital, it was apparently going to be “a long night.”
They were just out of the car when one of the building’s tenants was exiting.
“Hold the door! Wait! Hold the door please!” Shanna started yelling, as she trotted toward the door, conspicuously holding her belly as she did so. “I have to pee so bad!”
The bewildered tenant’s latent chivalry kicked in and he held the door wide open for Shanna. Quinn and Daisy slipped in after her.
“No one ever questions a pregnant lady’s need to pee,” Shanna said, flipping a lock of hair over her shoulder. “Now . . . which floor?”
They climbed the stairs to the third floor in silence. Quinn steadied herself as she knocked on the door.
Which creaked on its hinges as she did so.
“It’s open,” she mouthed to Daisy and Shanna. And motioned for them to follow her.
Daisy, for her part, had lived in a major city long enough to put her keys in between her fingers before she followed. She also, smartly, whipped up her phone, set to Record.
The apartment was cozy, and to Quinn’s eye, well designed. Sutton wasn’t with Crabbe and Co. for nothing. A lamp was on in the corner, and a speaker playing a pert, throaty ballad by a no doubt young, hip singer. A bottle of wine was open on the counter in the kitchenette. They could hear the shower on in the bathroom, and a feminine laugh emanating from that direction, followed by a low chuckle.
That lead ball in Quinn’s stomach dropped to the floor.
He really was here. They really were together.
“ . . . oooookaaay . . . ,” Daisy whispered. “Are we going to . . . I dunno, go into the bathroom?”
“No!” Shanna whispered back. “Are you crazy? We just wait for them to . . . finish?”
“What if it takes a while?” Daisy whispered back. “They could be . . . you know . . .”
Luckily, Quinn didn’t have to listen to her friends debate whether or not her husband and Sutton were fucking in the shower and the length of time it would require. Because just then, they heard the shower door opening, and Sutton stepping out.
“. . . hold on, I’m just getting the wine,” she laughed as she opened the bathroom door, tying a short robe around her waist.
She gave a little yelp, jumping back, when she saw the trio standing there.
“Hi, Sutton,” Quinn said.
“Q . . . Quinn . . . ,” Sutton stuttered. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you,” Quinn said. “Your door was open, you really need to be more careful.”
“The lock sticks,” Sutton said dully. “How did you know where I live?”
“I have your address. You’re on my Christmas card list.”
“I’m sorry, but now’s not a good time, I . . . have company.”
“I know,” Quinn said indulgently. “Why don’t you call Stuart to come out here? He should probably hear this, too.”
It was as if she could see Sutton’s heart stopping. But to her credit, she didn’t try to bluff anymore. She just called over her shoulder, “Stuart, come out here!”
The shower turned off. “What?” Stuart called back. “Why?”
“Don’t ask questions, honey,” Quinn replied. “Just do as she asks.”
The small space was silent, with Sutton staring at three random women in her living room, until Stuart slowly pulled open the bathroom door, and came out, a bathrobe wrapped around him.
A monogrammed royal blue bathrobe that matched Hamilton’s.
“Quinn,” Stuart said, trying to convey calm, and control. “Daisy, too. And . . .”
“Shanna. Surely you remember me? Jamie’s wife? You propositioned me last year?”
“I . . . I don’t believe I did, but if that is what this is about—”
“Honey,” Quinn interrupted, “you’re here in Sutton’s apartment in a bathrobe I got you for Christmas, you don’t get to argue about whether or not you tried to cheat on me with Shanna.”
“I . . . all right. I suppose there is something you should know,” Stuart said. He reached his hand out to Sutton, who took it gratefully. “Sutton and I . . . when you and I were separated, we started seeing each other, it just happened—”
“Actually, I’m not here to talk to you,” Quinn interrupted, definitively. “I’m here to talk to Sutton.”
Sutton looked from Stuart to Quinn. “Quinn, I want you to know, I never wanted to hurt you—you were my mentor, for chrissakes! I wouldn’t have a career if not for you. But what happened was—”
“Sutton, I know what happened,” Quinn said with a look of pity. “He’s very charming. You’re very pretty, flirtatious. Maybe you didn’t start seeing each other ‘officially’ until after the New Year’s ball, but it had been headed that way for a while, hadn’t it? I bet he turned up on your doorstep that night, having walked out of our house an hour before.”
The look on Sutton’s face told them all it was true.
“But when I took Hamilton to Florida for spring break, Stuart lost it, and you saw him lose it. You two fought, and either you kicked him out or he left, it doesn’t matter. He ended up back on my doorstep, ready to make amends. But the person he came back to wasn’t the same person he left.”
“Sutton, don’t let her make you feel bad,” Stuart whispered, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No, but you did,” Daisy muttered.
“Excuse me, who the hell asked you?” Stuart barked out.
“HEY,” Quinn said, and then, taking a deep breath, returned to her steely calm. “Again—you are not here to talk. You are here to listen. What I have to say is to Sutton.”
“So say it,” Sutton piped up. “Say it and leave.”
Quinn took one step forward. Sutton flinched, but refused to back up.
“If you want him,” she said, her voice turning soft—softer than she thought possible, “if you want him, you had better not want anything else for yourself. Not your career—not if it’s going to get in the way of his. And not kids—not if you expect him to take part in the mundanity of family life. Because if it’s not about him, he’s not going to be there.
“You had better not want to even be human, to make mistakes! But if you can maintain the pretense of perfection, if you can twist yourself into a pretzel trying to please him, walk on eggshells the rest of your life . . . Oh, and ignore it when he’ll likely cheat on you, according to my friend Shanna over here . . . then enjoy him. He’s yours.”
“I . . . I . . . thank you?” Sutton said after a moment.
“Stuart,” Quinn came over to stand in front of him. “You can come to the house over the weekend to see Hamilton and pick up your things. Don’t bring Sutton.”
“That’s . . . surprisingly mature, Quinn,” he said.
“Did you expect me to be devastated?” she replied. “Don’t worry, we have plenty of time for that—the divorce is going to take forever and be an absolute nightmare. But I recommend you roll over and give me everything I ask for because not only do I have witnesses to your infidelity, but Daisy here has proof on video.”
Daisy gave a little wave. And for the first time, it seemed that Stuart and Sutton looked beyond Quinn to notice Daisy holding up her phone.
“Wait—she can’t just—”
“I’m a lawyer,” Shanna piped up, “and this topic has recently been under debate, but the camera phone was in plain view . . . so pretty much yes, she can.”
“I have to get home to my son,” Quinn said, as they a
ll moved toward the door. “Have a lovely rest of your night.”
And with that, they left the two dripping-wet lovers, and got the hell out of there.
* * *
The drive home was alternately solemn and hysterical. They were silent until they got on the turnpike, when Quinn couldn’t take the silence anymore and blasted the radio. They found an old hair metal song from the eighties, and they sang along, loud and terribly, as if they’d learned the lyrics in the womb.
The carpool karaoke lasted until they turned into Quinn’s driveway.
“That was amazing,” Daisy said, as they exited the car.
“I do a decent Bon Jovi,” Quinn quipped.
“You know what I mean,” Daisy said. “The way you stood up for yourself. The way you stood your ground and kicked him to the curb. Oh, before I forget—”
Daisy dug out her phone, her fingers flying.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m emailing you this video.”
“Do us all a favor and don’t send it to anyone else this time,” Shanna said drily, stepping around the car.
Daisy looked up, soberly, her eyes finding Quinn’s. “I am so very, very sorry about that. I hope you know—”
“Oh, shut up and hug me,” Quinn said. “Thank you,” she whispered in Daisy’s ear. “I don’t think I would have been able to do this if you hadn’t been there.”
When Daisy pulled away, there was a decided shine to her eyes.
“Or you,” Quinn said, calling over to Shanna, “thanks for your help.”
“Are you kidding? That was the most fun I’ve had in ages. Let’s do it again next Friday.”
“Oh god, whose marriage should we destroy next week?” Daisy laughed.
“Please not mine,” Shanna replied.
Now it was Quinn’s turn to sober up. “Shanna, you know Jamie and I never—”
“I know,” Shanna said, cutting her off. “Jamie chewed my ear off about it tonight. I mostly agreed to come over with Daisy just to get away from it for a minute.”
“But the thing is . . . you weren’t wrong,” Quinn admitted.
“. . . I wasn’t?”
“I did want Jamie—or rather, I wanted what you have in Jamie.”
Shanna was silent, waiting.
“You have a partner—not just a husband, but a real partner who knows and understands what is going on in your lives and does his share. I was so jealous of that. No doubt, I leaned on Jamie more than I should have, especially considering he was—is—your husband.”
Shanna bit her lip, and then nodded.
“I just hope you appreciate it. That you both do,” Quinn said. “Because that’s special.”
“Thank you. I do,” Shanna said. “Or at least, I certainly will more now.”
“Me too,” Daisy said, and squeezed Quinn’s hand.
“So . . . ,” Quinn said, sniffling away any errant tears. “See you at drop-off on Monday?”
“See you at drop-off.”
Daisy and Shanna departed in Daisy’s old car, decorated with all those nerdy decals she really needed Daisy to explain one day. Quinn watched them until their headlights disappeared in the trees.
Then she headed inside.
“Mommy!” was the cry that greeted her. Little feet padded down the stairs and across the floor as Hamilton flung himself at her knees.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Quinn,” Gina said, coming down the stairs. “He refused to fall asleep until he could give you a good-night kiss.”
“It’s all right, Gina,” Quinn said. “I’ll take it from here.”
She hugged her son back fiercely, picking him up in one smooth motion and making for the stairs.
“Where’d you go, Mommy?”
“I just had to go into the city to tell your daddy something,” she said into his soft hair.
“Oh. I’m glad you’re home.”
“Me too, buddy,” she sighed. “Me too.”
Little Wonders Preschool May Newsletter
Hello, WONDER-ful Parents!
Congratulations everyone! We made it through another school year! Yay . . . only a dozen or so more to go . . . So, the time has come to CELEBRATE! Graduation and Moving Up ceremonies will commence on Friday, May 7th, just the right way to kick off Mother’s Day weekend. Our five-year-olds in the Iguana Room will be graduating to Needleton’s fantastic kindergartens, while all our other classes get ready to move up to the next room. LOL, let’s pretend this means anything because we all have our kids signed up for the summer session, right?
We look forward to making this the most delightful graduation ceremony our kids have ever experienced, only one they’ve ever experienced so we are calling on our WONDER-ful parent volunteers to assist with refreshments, tent and chair setup, audio visual needs, and of course, balloon maintenance.
As always, the sign-up board for volunteers is in the main lobby, via the portal on the website, on the Facebook group, and you can send inquiries and special requests via the Little Wonders Slack. I better not see you making any special requests, TERRY.
As we prepare for the big changes to come, we at the Parent Association are reflecting on the past. We have had a dramatic ridiculous telenovela-esque momentous year, unlike any in our history, and we have all barely survived been enriched by the experience. But it is time for a new board to take the reins, so elections will begin in June with the onset of the summer session. All positions are open because none of us want to do anything like this again and I cannot recommend enough getting involved in our WONDER-ful school by serving on the school board!
As this is my final newsletter as your Parent Association secretary, I say to you one last time . . .
Together in Parenting!
Suzy Breakman-Kang
Parent Association Secretary
Addendum: if you are planning on donating baked goods to the refreshment table at graduation, and you are unable to make your own organic treats, please make certain that the treats you purchase are made in a nut-free commercial kitchen, and that there are no food colorings—repeat, NO FOOD COLORINGS—in the frostings. Seriously, guys, after St. Patrick’s Day my kid pooped green for a week.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was Daisy’s firm opinion, seconded by Quinn, and confirmed by Shanna, that you really hadn’t lived until you witnessed a preschool graduation on a balmy May day.
It was too nice outside to be cooped up in the auditorium/multipurpose room. A day with the wild, blue, cloud-speckled skies that made you breathe deep and tip your face to the sun.
It was entirely possible that Daisy was adjusting to the vagaries, and the delights, of New England weather.
They were all seated together in the big yard. The same yard where, seven months ago, lives and spaceship costumes were forever altered. The irony of being here now did not escape anyone because it was all the same, and all so different.
Daisy, Rob, Quinn, Jamie, and Shanna had their own row—Shanna on the aisle because she was eight and a half months pregnant, and in her own words, “about to explode like a water balloon on hot pavement.” They watched as their almost four-year-olds and their classmates sang a song about their school (to the tune of “Bingo”).
We’re Little Wonders at our school,
And we are safe and happy
Learn our A-B-Cs
Colors, 1-2-3s
Manners, thank you, please
Becoming smart and strong.
It was not an exaggeration to say that there was not a dry eye in the yard.
“Thank you to our Tadpole Room!” Ms. Anna said, taking the stage once their class had finished their song, and all received their flowers (in lieu of diplomas) from Ms. Rosie. “They will be advancing to Ms. Mariet and the Iguana Room in the near future, and we are so happy to have been able to provide a loving and warm environment for them to learn and grow.”
The crowd burst into applause as the kids were ushered off the stage. It took a herculean effort by their te
achers to keep the kids in line and not running to their parents they could see in the audience, but they managed to corral them, while the Iguana Room stood up, one by one walked across the stage and received their “diplomas” . . . which Quinn had told Daisy were gilt edged, because Needleton parents demanded a level of class to their preschool certificates.
As soon as the Iguana Room had been allowed to throw their painted-blue cardboard hats into the air, the graduation ceremony was officially over and the kids sprinted to their parents. Daisy was practically tackled by Carrie.
“Mommy, did you see me sing?”
“Yes, baby, you sang beautifully!” Daisy replied.
“Daddy, did you see me?” Carrie said, releasing Daisy and throwing herself at Rob.
“You’d think we hadn’t heard them singing that song every day for the last month,” Quinn said, as Hamilton let go of his mother’s neck and grabbed Carrie’s hand, and started singing again.
“You might have,” Daisy replied. “I’ve heard nothing but buzz saws.”
Daisy had spent the past month in a constant state of construction. Not only was the basement of the house in its final stages of refurbishment, because Grandpa Bob was due back from Arizona in just a few days, but Rob had begun making display shelves for Daisy’s storefront.
She had managed to get a pretty decent lease for the old Knick Knack Nook space on Main Street. Elaine at the Cranberry Boutique even vouched for her with the town council, saying that she would bring a new variety to their local independent shops. She hoped to open up sometime in June—dependent entirely on when they managed to get the space fully refurbished. There were plenty of issues that needed addressing, and Rob was as handy as they come, but as The Brand New Home was wrapping up its first season and actively beginning work on its second, Daisy knew that Rob’s time was precious. The fact that he had started the shelves made her feel terribly guilty for taking him away from his other work.
“I’m in this with you, kid.” Robbie had just shrugged, and kissed her forehead. “Besides, Quinn designed these shelves and she scares me, so I’m going to get them done.”
The one good thing was that they hadn’t—yet—had to tap into their down payment money. They likely would when Daisy started ordering inventory—and Rob’s uncle and Grandpa Bob had both approved a delayed time frame for payment—but for now, the money she made from the Dave Arenson Blackmoor and other items in that gold mine of a long box was enough for the first and last month’s rent and shelf-building supplies.