Mom looks at me. “So did it feel awkward like this to you in the Bahamas?” She turns to Paige. “Or to you?”
“No,” I tell her. “I thought you did a great job of jumping into Fran’s role.”
“I did too,” Paige admits. “But it’s like you’ve changed since then … like you’ve got some kind of ownership thing going on. I’m not sure if it’s because we’re your daughters or you’re just taking the responsibility of producing and directing too seriously.”
Mom frowns. “Well, producing the news was always rather serious.”
“And perhaps you’re unable to take the news hat off,” Helen tells her. “Not everyone can do reality TV, Brynn. Take it from me, I know from experience. You’re either cut out for it or you’re not.”
Mom sighs. “Well, I’m not sure. I did enjoy working with the girls in the Bahamas. And I’d like another chance to prove myself.” She stands and faces Paige. “But I’ll understand if you’d rather have someone else.”
“Oh, Mom.” Paige looks like she’s about to cry. “I would like you to come. It’s just that I don’t want you to take over.”
“I know.” Mom nods. “And I think I can learn how to keep my mouth shut.”
“Unless you see us doing something really crazy,” I tell her.
“Fran always knew when to reel us back,” Paige says. “But she did it gently and professionally.”
“Right.” Mom nods.
“And not because we were embarrassing her either,” Paige adds.
“Well, you don’t want to embarrass yourselves, do you?”
Suddenly Paige and Mom are starting to go at it again, so I hold up my hands. “I know this meeting needs to end at ten,” I say more to Helen than anyone.
“That’s right.” Helen nods to the clock on the wall.
“And this afternoon is Fran’s transplant, so I thought maybe we could give her a minute or so of our thoughts and prayers. Is that okay, Helen?”
“It’s perfect. Let’s do it.”
And so the room gets quiet again, but this time it’s not a harsh sort of silence. I can tell that everyone’s changed focus now. I pray silently and after a couple of minutes, Helen actually says, “amen.”
Helen stands, gathers some things from her desk, and slips them into her briefcase. “I’m going to let you ladies sort this out. Just let me know if we need to track down another director. And, if so, I want to know by four o’clock sharp. Good day!” With that, she is gone.
“So …” Paige purses her lips like she’s thinking.
“So … I think you girls should make the decision without me.” Mom picks up her purse. “All I have to say is that if you decide you want me to come, I will try to direct the show the way I think Fran would. I can’t promise that it’ll go perfectly smoothly, but I promise I’ll try to be less of a mother and more of a coworker.” She slips out of the room.
Then it’s just Paige and me, still sitting in Helen’s executive office. “So,” I begin, “what do you want to do?”
“You’re going to make me decide?” Paige scowls. “So I can be the bad guy?”
“No, I’m not trying to put it all on you. I just think we need to discuss this.”
“It’s such a mess,” she grumbles.
“I know … and I feel sad for Mom.”
“Me too.” Paige sighs as she sits back down.
“What do we do?”
Her mouth twists to one side, like she’s thinking hard.
Suddenly I’m curious. “Also, I want to know if you have a specific plan for Eliza. I mean, you wouldn’t do anything seriously messed up, would you?”
“Of course not.” And yet her smile is mischievous. “I mean you wouldn’t embarrass yourself or the show, would you?”
“You know I wouldn’t.”
I nod. “Okay, I realize you wouldn’t risk your own image. But you do understand that if you push something too far with Eliza, it will make you look bad?”
“I’m not an idiot, Erin.” Her voice is growing colder.
“And you heard Helen’s warning about lawsuits. The Wilton family could afford to drag us and the entire network through the court system until you and I are old enough to retire.”
Her brow creases. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I’m hopeful I can trust Paige. If nothing else, she loves her public image enough to watch her step. “So — back to Mom.”
“Okay. Let’s give her a chance.”
I stare at my sister. “Really? You’re good with that?”
“Sure. If she messes up, we can always let her go before the Milan trip.”
“Yeah … right.” I’m imagining the tabloid headlines— “Forrester Sisters Fire Mom.”
“She’ll probably be just fine.” Paige stands like we’re done. “Mom heard Helen spell it out, and she’s not dumb. She has to understand that this is different than news TV. And, really, she wasn’t too bad in the Bahamas.”
“I’ll try to help her as much as I can,” I offer.
Paige sticks out her hand. “So we agree this is the right thing to do.”
“We agree.” We shake hands and, as we leave Helen’s office, I’m hoping we won’t be sorry.
“I’ll call Mom,” Paige offers as we go outside. She barely has her phone out when she lets out a squawk.
“What’s wrong?”
She holds her phone in my face. “Look at this!”
I cup my hand over the small screen to see what looks like a photo of Paige and Ben. “Is that from Saturday night?”
“Yes.” She lets out a growl. “Mollie forwarded it to me. She says it’s all over the place. Listen to this headline. ‘Paige Forrester Breaks Engagement for Benjamin Kross?’ Can you believe that? It’s like they can say anything they want as long as they put a question mark at the end of the lie.”
“Hopefully people see the question mark as a reason to question the accuracy of the headline,” I tell her as we stop by her car.
“I know it’s not worth getting upset over.” Paige takes a deep breath. “And, in a way, I don’t even care. In fact, I’m curious to hear Dylan’s reaction.”
“Does he follow the tabloid garbage?”
“No, but I’m sure some of his employees do. He’ll hear about it soon enough.”
“And you don’t plan to do damage control first?”
She shrugs. “Nope.”
I’m tempted to point out that this seems a bit immature on her part. But, come to think of it, her whole relationship with Dylan seems a bit juvenile, especially thanks to the Eliza episode. It’s childish behavior for a couple who are supposedly engaged. I hope if I ever get engaged — and I’m not planning anything soon — I’ll handle myself with a bit more class.
Paige and I part ways and I drive over to Cedars-Sinai, where I find Fran’s mother in the waiting area of the oncology unit. “Fran just went in,” Mrs. Bishop informs me as she sets aside a rumpled magazine. “I think she’s calmer about this whole thing than I am.”
“You know, the procedure is actually fairly simple,” I remind her. “At least for the recipient. It’s more of an ordeal for the donor.”
“Yes.” Mrs. Bishop nods. “We met the donor last week. He seems like a fine, healthy man. And we heard he went through the surgery this morning with no problems.”
“Good.”
“I’m trying to focus on the positives,” she says. “It’s not easy, especially when I remember all the things that can still go wrong. There’s a long list of possible complications, Erin. Fran could get hit with anything from a severe infection to kidney failure—and even if she escapes those troubles, there’s no guarantee that she’ll be cancer-free.” She lets out a jagged sigh.
“I know, but I’m trying not to think about those things.” Then to distract her, I tell her about our moment of prayerful silence at work. I also rattle on about the meeting this morning and how my mom is having a hard time fitting into Fran’s shoes. “I’m not sure if it�
��s because of her experience producing the news or because of Paige and me.”
Her voice sounds shrill. “I cannot, for the life of me, imagine working with my daughter. I’m sure we would fight constantly. It’s hard enough trying to live with her.”
I have to bite my tongue, because I’m pretty sure it’s Fran’s mom who’s hard to live with. But I could be wrong.
The procedure is supposed to take about three hours and it’s nearly two o’clock when I hear my stomach growling. I offer to get some lunch for us. Mrs. Bishop says she’s not hungry, but I tell her I’ll try to find something to tempt her. Then, on my way to the cafeteria, I check my phone. There’s a message from my mom, asking me to call her.
“Hey, Mom,” I say cheerfully. “What’s up?”
“Paige says you girls decided to give me another chance.”
“Oh, it’s not really like that,” I say. “We both know you’d be really good at directing, Mom. And as long as we can avoid the mother-daughter conflicts, we should be okay. Don’t you think?”
“I hope so, Erin.” Then she asks if I saw the photo of Ben and Paige.
“Yeah.” I get into line at the cafeteria. “Paige didn’t seem too concerned though.”
“She should be concerned.”
“I kind of felt like that at first too, but then I wondered what good it does to react at all. You know how it goes—the tabloids are going to print whatever they think will grab some attention. And that little blurb about Paige and Ben will blow over as soon as a bigger celeb does something sensational.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“So are you glad you’re coming to New York with us?” I ask hopefully.
“I guess so … but I’m a little uneasy too.”
“You’ll be fine, Mom. You know, I was starting to help Fran some, and doing some interning to learn the inside part of the business. Maybe I can help you too.”
“That would be nice. Paige wants to have a planning meeting tomorrow morning at the studio. She said Leah will be on hand to help too. Hopefully I can muddle through somehow.” Then she changes topics by asking about Fran.
“The procedure must be about midway through,” I tell her. “Fran’s mom is pretty nervous. In fact, I was just getting us some lunch.”
“I won’t keep you then. Tell Fran I’m sending positive thoughts her way.”
“I’ll let her know.”
I return to the waiting area with two different soups and salads. To my relief, Mrs. Bishop discovers she has an appetite after all. Eating helps to pass the time, but then we’re back at the waiting game again. I start feeling anxious, so I excuse myself to dispose of our lunch remainders and then, on my way back, stop in a quiet corner to pray for Fran. I also pray for the donor.
At half past three, the doctor comes to the waiting room to tell us that the procedure is finished and that Fran is doing well and resting.
“So it went well?” Mrs. Bishop asks nervously.
“As well as it could possibly go,” the doctor tells her.
“And do you really think she should go home?” she asks. “Today?”
The doctor nods. “Yes. Fran has made it clear she prefers to recover at home. And because her apartment is so close to the hospital, I don’t think there’s any need for concern.” She hands Mrs. Bishop a packet of papers. “Fran understands the need to be very germ-conscious during this time, as I’m sure you do as well, but here’s some information to help you care for her. Do you have any questions?”
“I guess not.” She looks down at the papers in her hand.
“Feel free to call the number there if you do.”
“When can we see her?” Mrs. Bishop asks.
“I’d like her to rest quietly for about an hour. Then we’ll check her vitals.” The doctor smiles. “If everything is okay, she can be released around six.”
To celebrate, Mrs. Bishop and I go get a cup of coffee. “Thank you so much for waiting with me today,” she says as we head back up to see Fran. “You have no idea how much it means to me.”
“Well, Fran is a special person,” I tell her. “I feel like I’ve been through so much with her already. How could I not come?”
When we find Fran later, she looks tired but relieved. I tell her how everyone is sending warm wishes her way and we visit a bit. There’s a new light in her eyes, but it’s plain she still needs some rest.
And although I know it will be some time before the transplant really begins to reverse her leukemia, I still feel very hopeful as I drive home. I believe Fran is going to make it!
Chapter
8
On Thursday morning a town car, arranged by Leah, picks us up to go to the airport. Mom’s already in the back with her laptop open, going over some of the details as we ride to LAX. So far, so good, I’m thinking as we get out, gather up our bags, and head inside. Paige is wearing oversized sunglasses with her hair tucked into a hat. I’m not sure about her attempt to go incognito, since I know from experience that this getup attracts nearly as much attention as her usual look. However, it’s either a slow day at LAX or the paparazzi have already found someone else to chase, because our entrance into the terminal is uneventful.
“Remember when Paige got tackled by security?” I say quietly to Mom as we’re checking our bags.
Mom chuckles. “Don’t remind me.”
“Well, she’s been very careful ever since.” I smile at my sister as she hands her luggage over. She gave up her Pepto-Bismol pink bags months ago, but her Louis Vuitton is fairly easy to spot —and if you ask me, more tempting to steal. Paige no longer seems too worried about that, however.
After we’re settled at our gate, Paige and I get some magazines and things. As I’m browsing a photography magazine, I hear my sister make a little yelp. She’s standing by the gossip rags, and I figure she’s seen another tidbit about herself and Ben, but she holds up a tabloid with a photo of Eliza and Dylan. The headline says “Heiress Steals Paige Forrester’s Man.” And this time there is no question mark.
I go over and examine the picture. “That looks like an old photo,” I tell Paige. “And it looks like it’s been tampered with.” I shrug. “No surprises there.”
“But listen to this,” Paige says angrily. “’Eliza Wilton confesses to a secret tryst with designer Dylan Marceau during Bahamas Fashion Week. Marceau is engaged to fashionista Paige Forrester, star of the popular TV series On the Runway, but their relationship is reported to be on the rocks.’ “ She reads a little more then throws the paper down. “Disgusting!”
Several girls cluster nearby, whispering. It’s obvious they recognize us.
“Come on,” I urge Paige. “They’re probably pre-boarding our flight by now.” We make our purchases and, realizing that I’m as uninterested in publicity as Paige is, I follow her lead and don shades before we rejoin Mom. Meanwhile Paige stands by a post with her head down, focused on her iPhone, probably checking out the rumor mills to see who is saying what about her and Dylan and Eliza.
I tell Mom about the tabloid and she just shakes her head. “There ought to be a law.” Then she laughs. “Oh, yeah, there is. But it’s pretty hard to prove slander in a court of law. Especially for celebrities.”
“It’s funny, isn’t it?” I say. “Paige being a celebrity. It’s like I sometimes forget—you know, when we’re just hanging out at home, doing normal stuff. And then we’re out in public and something happens and it’s like — wow, she really is famous.” “So are you,” Mom tells me.
I laugh and adjust my sunglasses. “Yeah, right. The only reason I put these on was to disguise the fact that I’m Paige’s sister.”
“So do you think this is going to ratchet up her little revenge plan?” Mom glances nervously at Paige. “I know I promised to hold back, but I can’t let her do anything too irresponsible, can I?”
“No, of course not. It’s not like we want her to end up in jail or court.” I hold up my phone. “And that reminds me. I asked F
ran about being our phone-a-friend.”
“Phone-a-friend?”
“Yeah, kind of an absentee consultant. She said it’s okay for you to call or email her with questions. And if she’s up to it, she’ll advise you.”
“That’s sweet. How’s she doing, anyway?”
“She says she feels stronger every day. I think part of it is just the relief of having the transplant behind her now, because it’s probably too early for real results.” I email my mom Fran’s phone number and email address. “There, you can reach her whenever you want to now.”
“I don’t want to disturb her.”
“Then just email or text her. She can decide whether or not to respond.” I pause to hear the PA announcement. “Looks like we can load now.”
“That was for first class.”
I grin at her. “I know.”
She laughs then reaches for her carry-on. “Oh, I forgot.” Soon we’re seated, but Paige is still glued to her iPhone. I can tell by her expression the news is not good. “How’s it going?” I ask.
“I want to kill her.”
“When did she say all this anyway?”
“In an interview with Couture magazine. At least that’s what they seem to be quoting from. But the magazine hasn’t even hit the newsstands yet, so apparently there’s a mole somewhere.”
“Why would Couture even want to interview Eliza in the first place?”
“Because of her partnership with Rhiannon. And don’t forget that Katherine Carter mentored both of those girls, and she still has deep connections with that magazine.”
“That’s true.”
“There can only be one reason Eliza is saying this stuff.”
“What?”
“She’s trying to get Dylan.”
“Seems to me it’d be hard to get anyone who didn’t want to be gotten.”
Paige frowns and actually looks close to tears.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that Eliza can do all kinds of crazy stuff, but if Dylan isn’t into her, what’s the worry?”
Paige just shrugs, tossing her phone into her bag.
“Is it possible they got the Eliza quotes wrong?” I ask. “I mean, consider the source. How often do they get this stuff right?”
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