by Josie Brown
At this last declaration, the thunderous applause over Jade’s choice of couture diminished to a few timid claps. The memory of Lily’s plaintive screams in the corn maze was still fresh in every young mother’s mind.
By the way Jade scurried to her seat, she’d never forget the incident either. Or maybe she was afraid Bettina might change her mind about her membership.
I want her to be afraid, Bettina thought. Very afraid. Anything to keep her in line. At least until Art is managing Brady’s portfolio.
Jillian’s entry into the dining room was somewhat disconcerting. From what Bettina could see, the poor thing was sweating right through her coat, and her shoes were inexplicably mud-spattered. Obviously, she hadn’t driven or arrived in a hired car. Bettina had heard that Jillian was an avid jogger, but this was ridiculous. No one jogged in Louboutins. Heck, you could barely walk in them.
Noting Bettina’s disapproval, Jillian cast her eyes downward.
Bettina shrugged. “Well, well, just in time! Here is our third new member, Jillian Frederickson, and her twin daughters, Addison and Amelia.” She signaled one of the sitters to wheel the girls’ stroller into the playroom. Turning back to Jillian, she added, “My dear, I think I gained five pounds just sniffing the delicious pies you brought to our after-Thanksgiving potluck! And my favorite event this year was our holiday party. Wouldn’t you agree, Mallory?”
There were a few audible groans at the memory of Mallory’s feisty little brat, Angus, pulling down the witch’s cap on top of the Fairmont Hotel’s gingerbread house.
Mallory rarely smiled, so no one was surprised that she wasn’t doing so now. And when Jillian yelped as Mallory pushed her into her seat, no one batted an eye, either.
Bettina shrugged. Even Mallory couldn’t ruin her day. This morning she’d finally received a text from the Tibetan mastiff breeder. Since leaving Le Marcel Bakery, she had emailed the breeder every hour on the hour. Finally, just this morning, the damn woman emailed back! Her response was short and to the point. Come by at four o’clock, sharp, next Tuesday. I live in St. Francis Wood. My address is -…
No way in hell was Bettina going to miss that date! And she’d take Lily with her to pick out the puppy herself. It was the least she could do. The lost ballet skirts had upset her little daughter to no end. “Ballet Master will make me wear pink,” she wailed. “I’ll be humiliated!”
In truth, even the promise of a new puppy brought only a half-hearted shrug. But Bettina knew once Lily saw the puppy, held it in her arms, and trained it to obey her and to love her, everything would change.
Yes, obedience is the key to every relationship, she thought.
At that moment, Ally walked in. “Finally!” Bettina smiled over at her. “Last but not least, we have Ally Thornton, and…and…”
She stared at the package in Ally’s arms. Was it a child? By the way the thing was wrapped, for all she knew it could have been a Dia de los Muertos figurine.
Bettina frowned. “I presume this is little Zoe.”
Ally blushed, but nodded just the same. “So sorry we’re late! Zoe just got back from the doctor. That’s why she’s wrapped up this way—to keep from scratching and spreading it around—”
“Oh my God! She’s got measles!” cried one mother who was sitting at the Foursies table. She vaulted toward the playroom. “Sadie has never been exposed! I’ve got to get her out of here, or they won’t let us make our flight for Europe the day after tomorrow!”
“No, no! It’s got to be mumps,” a mother at the Twosies table screamed. “And there are so many babies here who haven’t finished their shot sequences—including my Zachary!”
She popped up so fast that she took the tablecloth with her. All the vases on the table fell over. Their contents of flowers and water washed into the laps of other mothers sitting with her, who squealed in dismay.
A woman from the Threesies table stood up and pointed at Ally. “Did you say your child wasn’t vaccinated—and that she has Rubella? How could you expose our children to her? How could you?”
“Wait! I didn’t say she had any of those things! And she’s certainly not contagious! My goodness, it’s only poison sumac!”
Too late. The stampede toward the playroom sounded like an 8.0 earthquake.
Bettina clicked her knife against her Baccarat glass goblet. “Ladies, please…PLEASE! SIT DOWN!”
Everyone froze. Glances were exchanged. Did they dare disobey?
Of course not.
Slowly, they made their way back to their seats.
Bettina glared at Ally. “You did an excellent job with the adult holiday party, but let’s face it, it was a snore. That said, I never expected this kind of drama from you. And isn’t your husband a doctor?”
The question took Ally by surprise. “Um…Barry? No! He’s a lawyer.”
Damn! Well, that certainly presents a vexing dilemma, Bettina thought. If she axed Ally for bringing a child who wasn’t contagious to a meeting, she might be facing a lawsuit, and that would never do. Better she should hold her powder. Besides, of all the women in the Onesies, even Bettina had to concede that Ally was the most likeable.
Which brought her to the task at hand: finding the best Onesies mother to join her and the others she’d considered the most worthy—or at least the most malleable—on the T☺p M☺ms Applicati☺n C☺mmittee.
In her opinion, the pickings were slim to none. Had any of the legacies been worthy, they’d already be sitting on the committee. At best they were weak Plan Bs. Still, they too would be put through their paces along with Those Formerly Known as Onesies Probies.
She smiled down on them grandly from the podium. “Ladies, now that I have your full attention, I’m letting you in on a momentous change to our club’s bylaws. From now on, the newest member of PHM&T’s T☺p M☺ms Applicati☺n C☺mmittee—that is, the mother who’ll join us from the Onesies Group—will rise from the ashes of her fellow group members’ failed tasks, like the fabled phoenix.”
Bettina paused so that her oratorical eloquence could be duly appreciated.
From the blank stares of the others in the room, her pause had given everyone else a reason to scratch their beautifully coiffed heads.
Bettina sighed loudly. “Seriously? Okay, this isn’t rocket science, so try to follow.” She reached into the podium and pulled out a tiny glass heart-shaped candy dish filled with folded tabs.
In unison, Lorna, Jillian, Ally and Jade also sighed loudly and resignedly. They’d recognize it anywhere. The challenge tasks they’d pulled from the thick-sided, diamond-etched Baccarat bric-a-brac had been the bane of their existences these past few months.
Bettina ignored them. “I’ll be asking all ten of the Onesies moms to pull a folded tab from this dish. Written on it is a challenge task. Between now and Mother’s Day—quite appropriately, wouldn’t you say?—these tasks will be completed. The current committee will judge who has excelled at it. And this woman—this mother—will be invited to join the committee.”
The loudest gasps came from the Legacy Onesies’ mothers. Whereas they’d enjoyed the trials and tribulations of the probationers, they never dreamed they’d be submitted to it themselves! But what choice did they have?
None, if they wanted to stay in the club.
They bowed their heads in shame.
“Okay now, who will go first?” Bettina asked brightly.
No one moved.
Annoyed, Bettina handed the dish to Kimberley Savitch and waved her hand toward the Onesies table. “Pass it around.”
Smiling slyly, Kimberley placed it in front of Jade.
Jade stared at it for an eternity before closing her eyes and plucking out a tab. Then, opening one eye, she read, “‘Come up with an advanced placement class for the Fivesies.’” She stared at Bettina. “What does that mean?”
“Lucky you!” Bettina clasped her hands together in mock joy. “It should be both fun and easy! So that we can best prepare our little geniuses for the
ir future academic experiences, we’ll be giving them a much-needed head start by developing the kinds of advanced placement classes we’d like to see in our schools. In fact, six others will get similar tasks. Another mom will also curate a Fivesies AP program, while two others will do so for the Foursies, and then one each for the Threesies, Twosies, and Onesies.”
The women shifted in their seats uncomfortably. Seeing this, Bettina shrugged. “Not to worry! You’ll have plenty of time to put together a curriculum outline and find an instructor with a stellar curriculum vitae. These are due no later than the Monday after Mother’s Day. Interviews will commence the following Wednesday. Should your class be accepted, these forty-five-minute classes will begin the Wednesday after, and continue every Wednesday, through August. To make your group’s Top Mom, you’ll be judged on the class’s originality, and the instructor’s stellar credentials. Okay, next in line, please!”
It was Gwen Markham’s turn. Her hand shook as it pulled out a tag. She frowned. “I’ve got to come up with a Foursies AP class.”
“We’ll alert the media, Gwen. Okay, Jillian, it seems you’re next.”
Jillian bit her lower lip, then reached into the dish. She sighed with relief. “I have the children’s Valentine party.”
Both Hillary Trumbull and Maureen Landau pulled Advanced Placement class coordination for the Twosies and Onesies respectively.
It was Lorna’s turn. She pulled “Easter Egg Hunt Extravaganza” as her task.
Seeing Lorna’s dismay, Bettina’s lips curdled into a smirk. “Wonderful! I can’t think of a better person to coordinate the dyeing, decorating and hiding of a thousand eggs in Lafayette Park!”
Ally smiled gaily when she saw her task. “I have the parent’s Valentine party.”
Bettina shrugged. “If you do it at your place, hold it inside, okay? Less chance of a poison sumac outbreak.”
To their dismay, Marcia Broderick and Bella Adams were to create appropriately challenging advanced placement classes for the Threesies and Foursies respectively. Jane Ledbetter pulled the final AP class, for the Fivesies.
“May the odds be ever in your favor!” To express her jubilation, Bettina threw her well-toned arms in the air. “I’m famished! Shall we eat?”
She was not at all surprised that the ten Onesies moms barely ate their lunches.
They seemed to have lost appetites.
2:15 p.m.
“Hey, so listen, I’ve got a plan!” Ally ran to catch up to Jillian, who had been the first to vault out of the yacht club while the other mothers lingered leisurely to gossip and set up play dates.
“Great, because I need one. I’m at my wit’s end.” Jillian blinked away her tears. “I hate to say it out loud, but I’m desperately short on money.”
Ally patted her friend’s arm. “Let me walk you to your car.”
Jillian blushed. “You can’t. I no longer own one. It was repossessed this morning.”
“Wow! I’m sorry, Jill. Hey, jump in with Zoe and me. I’ll treat you and the girls to coffee at the Grove. And a piece of pie. Of course, it won’t be half as delicious as yours.”
Jillian laughed. “Stop it. You’re embarrassing me. Besides, you had me at ‘treat.’”
Ally waited with the twins until Jillian climbed into the backseat, then handed them to their mother before folding their stroller into the trunk of her BMW X6 SUV.
The moment she closed the hatch, her cell phone buzzed. She glanced down at it. There was a text from Brady.
When are we going to talk?
She groaned out loud.
“A problem?” The concern in Jillian’s voice was touching.
Ally waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing that can’t wait.” She forced a smile on her face. “Shall we?”
***
It took Ally an hour to lay out her business plan to Jillian, how she wanted to partner with her on a retail pie store, located somewhere in Pacific Heights or the Marina.
“Your pies are going to be even hotter than the cupcake craze.” Ally was smiling, but the tone of her voice was all business. “I feel it in my heart, Jillian. It’s the same feeling I got when I started Foot Fetish.”
“I appreciate your belief in me, Ally. Really I do. And you know it couldn’t come at a better time for me, what with the divorce and all.” Jillian wiped away a tear. “But running a retail business takes a lot of time, not to mention money.”
“We’ll hire staff to manage the store on a day-to-day basis. And I’ll do my voodoo: brand the store and do the marketing and promotion.” She looked Jillian in the eye. “And, of course, I’ll secure the financing, too. If our model works, we’ll duplicate it in other locations in the city, and other cities around the country. Perhaps even go international with it.” Ally leaned in close. “All you have to do is to come up with a few scrumptious pie recipes and bake the pies. Initially, of course. You’ll supervise the baking when we get to the point where we need an industrial kitchen and baking staff.”
Jillian couldn’t believe her ears. Then a thought made her smile waver. “But—what if Bettina finds out?”
“Barry will make sure our corporation is veiled. By the time we go public, the kids will be in elementary school.” Ally smiled. “We’ll each be fifty-fifty partners, but any investor will want some equity stake, so we’ll have to both peel off percentage points for that. Whatever it is, we hold onto a combined fifty-one percent. So, what do you say? Are you in?”
“Oh my God, of course!” Jillian jumped up and hugged her friend. “I can’t believe this! It’s a dream come true.”
“Now the big question: what do you want to call it?”
Jillian thought for a moment. “What do you think about ‘Life of Pie’?”
Ally laughed. “It’s simple, to the point, and already familiar. Works for me.”
To seal the deal, they toasted with their coffee mugs. But their sips were interrupted by the buzz of Ally’s cell phone. She glanced down, seeing a text from Brady.
Pretty please, with sugar on top?
She sighed, then texted back.
Tuesday afternoon. 5:30. Allyne Park, in Cow Hollow.
That would give her a few days to consider what to say to him.
Whatever it was, it would cost her something: a friendship and her support system or a chance at love. Which was worse?
She sighed. “A piece of pie sounds great right about now, but the Grove’s can’t compete with yours.”
“If you and your little mummy give me a ride home, I’ll whip one right up. Apple! You can take it home with you.”
“Perfect. In exchange, I’m giving you an advance on your salary. Will six thousand cover you while you research our pie products?”
When Jillian squealed, heads from all over the coffee shop turned around to see what was causing the commotion. Embarrassed, she whispered, “I can’t wait to get home and try out a few recipes. Ally, I can’t thank you enough. And I won’t let you down. Ever. You’re a true friend.”
Ally desperately needed to hear that, now more than ever.
Chapter 4
Tuesday, 8 January
9:10 a.m.
“It’s been a whole week! Why haven’t you returned my calls?” Art knew he sounded like a desperate fool, but he didn’t care.
He missed Kelly.
Okay, in truth, he missed their sadistic sexcapades. That girl certainly knew how to wield a paddle.
Maybe she considered ignoring his calls as some form of foreplay. He viewed it as torture, which is why he begged. “Can we meet tomorrow? If that doesn’t work, what about the day after? I’m flexible, if Friday works better.”
Kelly’s tone reeked of venomous scorn. “This is a joke, right?”
“A…what? Why would you say that?”
Kelly snickered. “Maybe you should ask your wife.”
Art could feel the blood leaving his face. Suddenly his heart was racing. He tried to loosen his tie before he suffocated. “What the he
ll does Bettina have to do with us?”
“You mean she hasn’t told you? Why, your bitch of a wife is onto you, my naughty little boy! She saw us on New Year’s Eve. Yep, that’s right! And guess what? She has your favorite paddle. When she confronted me, I gave it to her as a gift.” Kelly’s laugh sent a chill up Art’s spine. “So, if I were you, I’d beg for mercy. Oops! I forgot we’re talking about Bettina. No hope there.”
The dial tone must have been buzzing in his ear for two minutes or longer before his shaking hand was capable of hitting the off button on his cell phone. His mind was racing. If Bettina knew, why hadn’t she said something?
He knew his wife too well to think she’d ever let bygones be bygones. She was biding her time until he screwed something up.
Like hooking Brady Pierce as an investment client.
That’s it, he reasoned. She wants to make sure we present a united front to the Pierces. If I blow it, she’ll divorce me for sure now that she knows I’ve done it with her oldest, “dearest” friend.
The thought that Bettina now had his favorite paddle made him shiver. Would she dare threaten to use it on him?
That would be sick.
Or maybe…
Maybe it would be fun.
For a fleeting moment, Art Cross contemplated the consequences of screwing up. He heard Bettina’s voice commanding him to bend over the round tufted ottoman in their bedroom. He contemplated how she’d position herself over his naked ass. Would she angle her arm so that the paddle swatted him low and slow, or hard and fast?
His hands fell into his lap as his mind’s eye played with both visions, one right after another, over and over again…
And again…
Until his assistant buzzed him, to tell him there was a client waiting in the lobby. He groaned. There was no way he could walk out there. Not with this humongous tent in his pants.
Maybe Bettina knowing his little secret wasn’t so bad after all.