Happily Ever After?
Page 19
’Til next time,
V
September 15
Two major events today. I heard back from Alexi Chen about Pete’s party, and Nancy Cooperman called with figures for the Center. I gave the go-ahead on both deals. Barring catastrophe, these are likely to be the two most spectacular purchases of my life. More later—I’ve got to whip up invitations on my computer.
’Til next time,
V
September 16
Gregory James Martindale will have Abner Cadabra at his party, a washed-up drunk whose tricks are so sloppy that even the youngest kids figure them out, and scream things like, “You’ve got it behind your back!” and most of them lose interest and wander away.
Our magician, on the other hand, will be David Copperfield. As for clowns, we’ve got six of them, replete with all their clownish paraphernalia, from the Big Apple Circus. And because no party is complete without music, Alexi hired Aaron Carter. Total package: $945,000, including airfare and entourage. A bargain.
I told Pete about his party. He thought I was kidding. Then I showed him the invitation and he went from stunned silence to hysterical ecstasy. He asked if we could invite his father and I told him yes, which doubled his joy. It seemed like an easy way to please my son while fulfilling the court-ordered supervised visitation.
The Center’s price tag is $1.2 million. Nancy thinks that Tom France will accept $1 million based on the outdated condition of the facility (it will need a new heating and cooling system, a new sprinkler system, and construction for handicap-accessibility). Unexpected bonus: After doing some research, Nancy now believes that buying the Center is a promising investment—the Center is poised to become the outpatient facility for St. Agnes’s Hospital, and more importantly, it’s the only mental health care practice certified for HMO insurance coverage.
“Buy it,” I instructed.
“Wouldn’t you like to give it further consideration?” she asked.
“At least sleep on it?”
“Buy it, Nancy. Make it happen this week. I don’t want to wait.”
She paused. It was an interesting moment; I’m not accustomed to commanding. “Will do.”
I asked her to arrange a private meeting with Cadence Bradley at 8:30 A.M. on Friday, and a second meeting with the trustees and executive staff at 9. “Only then,” I said, “will these people find out who’s behind the acquisition.”
I’ve decided what I want to do with Cadence Bradley. Friday can’t come soon enough.
’Til next time,
V
September 17
Diana called to remind me that our first karate class is next Monday. I think I’ll have to beg off. Too much going on right now.
Pete passed out the invitations after school. Gregory James Martindale never even opened his. According to Pete, he just ripped it up and tossed it on the floor. “I’d never come to one of your stinkin’ parties,” he screamed, “you stupid dickhead!”
“Then everyone started sort of laughing because Greg called me a dickhead,” Pete explained. “And then they started opening their invitations and nobody laughed anymore. They were screaming too hard. And then Miss Linda the bus aide yelled at me for making a commotion, but when I showed her the invitation she stated screaming too. And she asked if she could come to the party and I told her yes. Is that okay, Mom?”
“That’s okay, Pete,” I said, smoothing his hair. “That’s just fine.”
Nancy called. The Center is officially mine. She said she would drop off the keys and all the paperwork tonight.
’Til next time,
V
September 18
Tomorrow is my debut as the new executive director of the Westfield Center for Emotional Wellness. I’m going to wear my baby blue pants suit and new Prada pumps. The gods must be smiling: I’ve lost five and a half pounds!
’Til next time,
V
September 19
I arranged for Pete to spend the early morning at Lynette’s, and arrived at the Center at 7 A.M., long before even the earliest of early birds. I waited in the conference room and reviewed the research Nancy had compiled. I needed to be entirely up to speed on the St. Agnes deal.
By 7:30 I began to doubt myself. What the hell was I doing? How could I possibly assume leadership of a mental health facility when I could barely sustain my own career? Why had I done this? Just for revenge on Cadence Bradley? Was it worth it?
Absolutely.
Cadence arrived at 8:25 with a coffee mug in one hand, her briefcase in the other. Her powder pink suit was magnificent. Her face still looked like Henry Kissinger. “What are you doing here?” she said, disdainful as ever.
“I’m scheduled for a meeting at 8:30,” I said.
“Well, you’re in the wrong place, because I’m here for a meeting, too, and it most certainly does not involve you.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked, loving every minute of this.
“Because my meeting involves the new executive director.” She set her coffee down on the table. “So if you don’t mind—”
“Now, that’s a coincidence,” I told her. “My meeting involves the new executive director too.”
“That’s not possible,” she said with exasperation. “My meeting is a private meeting.”
“So is mine,” I said, smiling. “With you. I’ve acquired the Center. Cadence, I am your new executive director.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said scornfully. “You? You couldn’t manage a lemonade stand. This is all a big joke, right?”
I said nothing. Just then the delivery boy from Provence walked in with a huge platter of breakfast goodies. He looked at his slip. “Ms. Ryan? Can I get a signature please?”
I stood up. “Certainly.”
Cadence grabbed her mug. “I resign. You’ll have my letter this afternoon.”
“Wait,” I told her. “My first order of business was to give you a substantial raise. But I can’t do that if you resign.”
She stopped. “A raise?” She put her mug back on the table.
“Correct me if I’m wrong. We’re paying you $140,000.” Cadence pursed her lips and nodded ever so slightly. “Based on everything you’ve done to broaden the Center’s geographic scope and boost revenues, I think a nice increase is in order. Don’t you?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I’m prepared to bring you up to $300,000, Cadence.”
She peered at me suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because you deserve it.”
“What’s the catch?” she asked.
“No catch,” I said. “But from now on, you’ll be taking direction from me. And the first item on your docket is the Open Mind Fair. You shut it down. Now I’d like you to start it up again.”
Cadence looked miserable. She was violently opposed to being my underling. But now she was making too much money to quit.
“Please have a plan for reviving Open Mind on my desk Monday morning,” I told her.
“Fine,” she said. “But where’s your desk?”
“It’s in your office. Or, should I say, what was formerly your office. I’m giving you the weekend to move your things out.” I always loved the view from that office, and the way the sun shines through the windows in the morning. “I’ll have a suitable space assigned to you by Monday.”
What could she say? She was stuck. And I couldn’t be happier.
’Til next time,
V
September 21
Tried to get out of tomorrow’s karate class but Diana whined so pathetically that I gave in just to shut her up. “Just remember,” I told her, “this is a test. This is only a test. If I don’t like it, I can drop out, no hassles. Right?”
“Righty-oh,” she said. “But I have a hunch you’ll want to stay.”
’Til next time,
V
September 22
My first day back at the Center went smoothly. I dropped Pete off at school, p
icked up an Egg McMuffin, and made it to my office by 9:15. I sat in on a couple of meetings, approved a new hire, and signed off on Cadence’s proposal. It’s now 11:30 and I’m about to leave for my karate class. Must run.
’Til next time,
V
September 22, later
The karate class was far more eventful than I’d expected.
The room was cavernous and smelled of sweat and vanilla air freshener, and the walls were mirrored. A sturdy-looking woman appeared. She looked older than my mother but was in better shape than me. “Welcome, everyone. I am Mrs. Snyder and I will be assisting today. Please take a moment to find a gi in your size.”
She gestured toward a large cardboard box full of white uniforms in the corner of the room. “The dressing rooms are in the back. Sensei Scott will be with you in a moment.”
Diana grabbed a size small, naturally. I took a medium and hoped it would fit, which it did. “It suits you,” she said, pulling her hair into a ponytail. “You look cute.”
“I look like I’m wearing pajamas.”
“You still look cute,” she said. “Hurry up. Class is about to start.” She left me alone in the dressing room. I hung my clothes up and set my shoes on a rack and took one last look in the mirror. I guess I did look kind of cute.
I was poised to leave the dressing room when I heard someone call out, “Line up, everyone. I am Sensei Scott and I am honored to welcome you today.”
It was a familiar voice. The accent was British, maybe South African. My heart hammered as I stepped into the room. It was him! The rather adorable guy from the bagel place! He smiled delightedly when he saw me.
Then he mouthed something. Guinevere.
I think I’m going to like this class.
’Til next time,
V
About the Author
Debra Kent writes the Diary of V for Redbook and Women.com and has contributed to such magazines as Cosmopolitan, Family Circle, Mademoiselle and McCall’s. She lives with her husband and children in the Midwest.