When the board members turned to Susan, she looked at Phil. Naming a successor, whether interim or permanent, was his job.
"Evan doesn't share our philosophy," he said. He sounded begrudging, but Susan didn't care. At least he had told the truth.
"He headed a school," Neal pointed out.
Phil dismissed Evan with a wave. "If he hadn't resigned, he would have been fired. My concern isn't Evan. It's our students."
"Correct," said one.
And another, "It's a grave concern."
"That's why Ms. Tate is here," said a third.
Susan waited for more. When it didn't come, she murmured, "So the purpose of this meeting is ...?"
"To convince us you ought to stay," Hillary said. "Perhaps you'd share your latest thoughts on how to best help our students at this time."
"My thoughts come from the faculty," Susan replied. "They say what we're already doing is working. Our kids are discussing the issues. They're understanding them and moving on."
"That's not the sense of the town," said Duncan.
"Didn't you read the Gazette?"
"Bet you thought you had more friends than that," Neal gloated.
Susan didn't respond. She was grateful when Pam said, "Most of those letters were unsigned."
"But they were not in support of Susan," Thomas Zimmerman remarked.
Harold LaPierre, the library director, had been sitting quietly with his hands folded. The overhead lights reflected on his bare scalp, spotlighting him when he spoke. "For all we know, they were written by the same person."
"There's a cynical view."
"Can't rule it out," Harold said.
Duncan grunted. "Well, we have to do somethin'. You all know it, but won't say it, so I will. There's two choices. Ms. Tate can take a leave. Or she can be dismissed."
Susan had feared it would come to this. "Please tell me the grounds."
There was a silence among the board. She guessed they were caught up by the word grounds. Finally, pushing up his glasses, the Realtor said, "Would you sue us if we demand your resignation?"
"I haven't thought that far, Mr. Zimmerman. I love my job, and I do it well. I do not want to resign."
"What if we pay you full salary to take a leave until the end of the school year?" rasped Carl Morgan.
"It's not about money," she said. "It's about the kids."
"What about the sentiment of the town? Our citizens want you gone."
"Do they?" she asked respectfully. "I agree with Mr. LaPierre. I'm not convinced that what we see in the Gazette is a fair representation of town sentiment."
Pam spoke with sudden enthusiasm. "That's an easy problem to solve. What if we held an open meeting of the board? Parents could tell us directly what they think."
"An open meeting is the perfect solution," Pam told Tanner and Abby over dinner. "We were at a stalemate. As soon as I made the sug gestion, everyone leaped at it. I mean, I was dying, not knowing what to say. I could feel Susan looking at me, wanting me to stick up for her, and I really wanted to do that, but how could I? I mean, this whole thing just looks so bad!"
"That sometimes determines it," Tanner murmured around a piece of flank steak.
"Determines what?" Abby asked. Sullen, she hadn't touched her food.
Tanner finished chewing. "The outcome. If the town thinks something's bad, it's bad."
"Susan doesn't see that," Pam complained, adding more mashed potato to her husband's plate, knowing he could eat all that and more without gaining a pound. "She was polite, but she didn't give an inch. She kept saying she was doing her job."
"Isn't she?" Abby asked, watchful now.
"Technically, yes. But what's happened here goes beyond her job."
"It shouldn't," the girl said.
"That's the way it is. You aren't eating, Ab. Is the meat too well done?"
"It's fine. I'm just upset."
Pam, on the other hand, was relieved. "An open meeting will be better for Susan." To Tanner, she said, "We really need to get new blood on the board. How can someone like me speak up, when I'm overpowered by men twice my age. They have no idea what's going on in the schools."
"They've given a lot to the town," Tanner advised. "You can't just turn around and kick them out."
"I understand that. But if they faced opposition, they might decide to retire. The key is getting some of our parents to run. There are a few who'd be good. I'll talk with them."
"About Susan?" Abby asked.
"About running for school board. Convincing those men of anything new is like hitting a brick wall."
"Did you try? Susan's your friend. You should be defending her."
"I have to be impartial."
"No, you don't," Abby said sharply. "You have to be loyal. She's your friend and business partner, and she's done nothing wrong."
"It isn't as simple as that," Tanner put in, but Abby wasn't done with Pam. She seemed to be picking up steam.
"Did you tell those men they were wrong, Mom? Did you tell them Susan isn't responsible for things she didn't do?"
"But she is responsible," Tanner said. "That's what it means to hold a position of authority."
Pam didn't think Abby heard her father, the look on her face was so intense. "She's your friend, Mom. You told me to reach out to Lily, but you're not reaching out to Susan. Maybe if you come right out and publicly say you're on Susan's side, this wouldn't be so bad. You're a Perry. Doesn't that put you in a position of authority, too?"
"This is my fault?" Pam asked in dismay.
"No. It's not," came Tanner's quiet voice. "It's the fault of three girls who made a really dumb decision."
Abby was suddenly woeful. "It wasn't all their fault."
"What do you mean?" her father asked.
Given the look of misery on her daughter's face, Pam's heart sank. She knew the answer. There had been one too many hints from Susan, Sunny, and Kate, and one too many doubts of her own.
"It was my idea," Abby said.
"What was?" Tanner asked.
"Getting pregnant," Pam answered with chagrin. "Oh, Abby. How many times did I ask? You denied it again and again."
The girl had tears in her eyes. "I didn't think it would get to this. But now Lily has a baby that is sick, and you all are saying Susan is a bad mother. She didn't have anything to do with Lily getting pregnant. It was my idea."
Pam tried to see Tanner's reaction, but his eyes were fixed on Abby. "What are you talking about?"
"I was pregnant," she wailed. "It was Michael's, and it was an accident."
"You were pregnant?" He glanced at Pam. "Did you know this?"
Stunned, she could only shake her head.
"No one knew, Dad. I didn't even tell Lily, Mary Kate, and Jess, that's how lousy a friend I was. I just said it would be totally awesome if we all had babies together, and they bought it. Only they got pregnant, and then I miscarried--"
"When? Did you know about this, Pam? What doctor didn't tell us?"
"No doctor," Abby cried. "I tested positive for six weeks, then had this really heavy disgusting period, and the tests after that showed negative."
Pam knew about disgusting periods. She remembered a pain that went beyond the physical, felt it even now.
But Abby was hurrying on. "I tried again and kept trying, but I'm not pregnant. Something's wrong with me."
Tanner looked bewildered. "You kept trying? This doesn't make sense."
"Not to you! You don't have to worry about friends. I do!"
"You do not. You're a Perry."
"Like that guarantees happiness?" the girl asked, pushing back from the table and rising to her full Perry height. "Like it guarantees I'll grow old with three friends I love? Like it guarantees I'll ever be able to have a baby? You don't understand. These things matter!" She ran from the room.
Tanner stared after her before turning to Pam. He looked dazed. "I don't understand. I asked you to talk with her."
Pam stood with her
arms circling her middle. She was torn apart inside, hearing something's wrong with me and wanting to go to Abby, but needing to pacify Tanner first. "I asked. She denied. What more could I do?"
"You should have known."
Pam was slow in answering. She kept hearing Tanner tell Abby that she was a Perry, but now Pam wondered who she was. Arguably, she had more in common with Susan, Sunny, and Kate than with her husband's family. When she was at the barn, she wasn't just a Perry. She was someone who contributed.
These friends made her a better person. She wondered if that was the appeal.
If so, she had let them down. "They have every right to hate me."
"Who?"
"Susan, Sunny, and Kate. They knew Abby was involved. But they were too loyal to say anything."
"Loyal, or cowardly?"
"Loyal, Tanner," Pam said, offended. "Loyal to me, loyal to Abby--and now, I need to be there for Susan when she needs help."
He retreated. "Fine. But even if Abby suggested the pact to the others, she didn't hold a gun to their heads."
"But she was part of it. If things had gone as planned, the pact would have involved four girls, and the press would be at our door. Are we any less guilty than Susan?"
"Susan's the principal of the high school."
"And you're the CEO of Perry and Cass."
"It's different. I'm a man. You're the mother. You should have known."
He was wrong. She didn't often think it. But right now he was dead wrong, a Perry through and through.
She was not. Suddenly that didn't seem so bad.
"I should have known?" she asked softly. "Like Susan should have known what Lily was planning? It doesn't work that way."
"Abby's a good girl."
"So are Lily, Mary Kate, and Jess. And Susan is the best mother I know."
"She's still the principal."
"And you're still a Perry," Pam said, irritated. "That means more responsibility, and right now it means helping someone who's being made to pay for the ... the priggishness of this town."
Tanner was silent, then curious. "Do you really think that?"
"I do," she said, realizing it was true. "Susan's being scapegoated. And that's wrong. You have to put your support behind her."
"I can't."
"Why not? Because Perrys don't get dirty? Is it all about appearance? What about going out on a limb for a friend when you know it's the right thing to do?" His silence goaded her on. "Think about it, Tanner. There but for the grace of God go I. Don't you find that humbling?" She certainly did.
Tanner had risen. He rubbed the back of his neck, then said, "I can't announce to the world that my daughter caused this fiasco. It's bad enough that I know it."
Pam nodded angrily. "It's not the first time a Perry's been knocked up." He winced at the phrase, but she didn't care. "You ought to be grateful. In Abby's case, the problem solved itself, so we're in the clear. Your job's not on the line. But Susan's is. You need to help."
He shook his head. "Not my place."
Pam disagreed. "It is totally your place. If this isn't a case that cries out for responsibility, I don't know what is. If not for this, what do you stand for?" she cried in dismay and went upstairs to Abby.
Abby was tall, but her room was much taller, making her seem small and vulnerable as she sat cross-legged on the window seat. Her eyes were wet with tears.
Settling beside her, Pam took her hand. "Talk to me, Abby."
"I'm a terrible person."
"Me, too. So talk to me."
Abby must have been brimming with a need for catharsis, because the words came in a rush. "I didn't plan to get pregnant, I swear I didn't. I knew it would be the worst thing for a Perry, because they do expect more from us, and you'd both have hated me for it. I thought about getting an abortion, but I didn't know where to start looking, and I realized that if that got out, it'd be even worse. So then I thought it wouldn't be so bad if there was a good reason I was pregnant. So I suggested the pact to the others, and they bought it, and for a little while, it was really neat. I mean, I could be a good mother. I would love to focus on a baby. But this has been so bad, Mom. Look at what's happening to Susan. And to Lily's baby? Who'd have imagined that? If I could do it over again, I wouldn't have suggested a pact--and I would never have outed my friends. But now the joke's on me. What if I never have a baby?"
Pam said the only things she could. "I had you, didn't I?" Then, "You'll have your baby." Then, "Maybe this just isn't the right time."
"But I wanted to do it with them."
"That is not a reason to have a child at this age. For now, you can give them support."
"Will you?"
"Yes." Pam hadn't thought it through, but it wasn't rocket science. Tanner could do what he wanted, but so could she. "I'll lobby for Susan. I'll get everyone who loves her to the meeting. You could do the same with the kids. Have them talk to their parents."
"Like my word matters? Everyone knows we're on the outs."
"Tell them Susan's the best principal they've ever had. Tell them they need to keep it that way." Pam paused, heart aching. Knowing of Abby's involvement, she felt more responsible. "You could also tell Lily you're rooting for her baby."
"She wouldn't listen," Abby murmured, pulling up her knees. She still looked miserable, but at least she wasn't crying. "They hate me now."
Pam thought of Susan, Sunny, and Kate. "They probably hate me, too."
"I loved being with them."
"Me, too." The need to belong--the basis of pact behavior--was wrong in this case, but Pam understood its power.
"Why don't we fit in?" Abby asked.
"Maybe because we haven't been ... relevant," said Pam. "We have to make ourselves relevant." She had an idea. "Like with knitting. I'll pull strings to get an awesome catalogue promotion, and if your uncle Cliff balks, I'll threaten to shut down PC Wool."
Abby looked up. "You wouldn't shut it down."
"Not, but I'd threaten to if he doesn't give me the space I want, and we both know how profitable PC Wool is. So," Pam said, "we have to make sure we have enough finished samples. Kate will tell me what's already done, but you and I can knit more. Susan suggested I make a shawl. I can do that. You can knit gloves. Gloves are very in."
"I can't knit gloves. I've never knitted gloves."
"You've done socks."
"No one sees mistakes in socks. They see every last one in gloves."
"Then you'll have to make sure there are none." Pam had another idea. "Cashmere," she breathed reverently. "The woman we visited was good, and she has stock. What if Kate could dye up a batch really fast? Would you do a pair of gloves then?"
Abby looked tempted. "Cashmere? I could try."
"Trying isn't good enough. We both have to do it. We could make a pact, the two of us. No more trying. Just doing. What do you think?"
Chapter 26
Pam had always considered Tanner a leader, but now wondered if his leadership skills were limited to Perry & Cass. She knew he liked Susan, but he was avoiding helping her. Disillusioned, Pam refused to discuss it further, which meant that they weren't talking, which meant she had more energy to talk with friends.
Defiant? Oh, yes. For the first time in her married life, she was bucking the tide. That made success very important to her.
She set herself to the task first thing Thursday morning, and it was an awakening. Everyone she called thought Susan was a good principal, but the editorial in the Gazette had many on the defensive. I talk with my kids. I watch them. I know what they're doing. The implication was that Susan did not, and that to side with her was to side with a bad mother.
So Pam fine-tuned her approach, and, in doing so, discovered her own strength. Lady of leisure that some accused her of being, she often had coffee or lunch with other parents and therefore knew them better than, say, Kate or Sunny might. This allowed her to make her calls more pointed.
Okay, Lisa, remember the rough patch you went through w
ith Trevor? You thought he was on drugs. He kept denying it, but you weren't sure you believed him. He got through it, but in hindsight, what do you think? Was he experimenting? You asked all the right questions. And so did Susan. Is she any different a mom from any of us?
Hey, Debbie, you have a daughter. She didn't want to look like a nerd, so she refused to study. Who talked her through it? Don't you owe Susan something for that?
Zaganackians were complacent. It was up to her to rile them up.
Kate didn't have a business degree, but she did have common sense. Since PC Wool was her livelihood, she kept a list of her customers. She had never used it for anything personal before, and did feel a moment's qualm. She was, after all, one of the town's bad moms.
But was she any worse than others whose kids hadn't always followed the rules? Was her daughter any less good a person because the rule she broke had created a life? Who would be affected by it, beyond Mary Kate and her family? No Mello was asking for handouts. They would take care of their own.
Resentful of those who would judge, Kate worked up a head of steam, then e-mailed every Zaganackian who had ever placed an order for PC Wool. She worded it like a party invitation. Knitters love knitters. Come support our own Susan Tate by rallying around her at the high school auditorium on Wednesday evening. It starts at 7. See you then.
There was nothing subtle about the message. She guessed that if her bosses at Perry & Cass knew she was using the list, they would not be happy. But she wasn't happy with Tanner Perry.
Besides, would he ever know? She seriously doubted it. His nose was stuck up too high for him to see what the town wanted. Even Pam was defying him now. That alone was reason for Kate to join in.
------
Left to her own devices, Sunny might have stayed under the radar. Her own daughter was pregnant, and while she and Jessica were on the same page now, the girl's condition wasn't something Sunny wanted to flaunt.
Then she got Kate's e-mail and, soon after, a customer mentioned talking with Pam. If Kate could speak up, so could she. And Pam? Pam embodied Respectability with a capital R.
Increasingly the idea of standing up for Susan held merit. Wasn't it one step removed from standing up for herself? She had stood up to her mother with amazing success. No one had ever said respectability required invisibility.
Not My Daughter Page 27