“Have you set up spinning with Janine?”
“Yup. Tomorrow. We’re doing a double.”
He shakes his head. Ron’s a nonbeliever. I took him to a class about a month ago and he hated it, mainly because he couldn’t get the hang of it. It was a rare moment of physical superiority that I was able to lord over him for a good week.
He is of course dressed and downstairs before me, but when I finally emerge in my holiday frock he whistles his approval. I’ve had it for years, but it’s a classic—a black lace, cap-sleeved, V-neck dress, cut slim and then flared at the waist. No matter what I look like naked, I still cover up nicely. It’s all smoke and mirrors and Spanx, but hey, what isn’t?
Max is at my parents’ place for the night and Ron has hired an Uber so we don’t have to worry about drinking and driving. I’m surprised to see him leaving his best girl (Bruce Willis) home on a Friday night, but I’m not complaining.
Bristol is my favorite seafood place. I know it can be hard to get excited about fish, but they have these mini New England lobster rolls that I actually dream about.
The Uber drops us off at 7:30 sharp and we see Rolly and Janine standing just inside the door. There are hugs all around and we are led to a nice corner booth.
After we order, I’m expecting the men to talk shop, leaving Janine and me to exchange spinning notes; I’m surprised when Rolly turns to me.
“So, Jen, what’s up?”
“Nothing much.” I shrug. I look across the table and see that Janine and Ron are having their own conversation.
“You were born here, right?” Rolly asks.
I nod. “Born and raised.”
“Ever get the itch to leave? Switch things up a bit?” Rolly’s eyes are doing a dance between my face and my cleavage. This is new.
“Well, I sowed some wild oats for a few years in Europe.” I cross my arms in front of me. “But when I came home, this is where I wanted to be. I love KC.”
“Wild oats?” Rolly’s silver-gray eyebrows go up, and he smiles. “Tell me more.”
He leans in and just like that I’m uncomfortable. I don’t share my sordid past with many people. Not that I think Rolly would judge me—something tells me it would make him like me more.
“Oh, you’re going to have to ply me with a lot of wine to get that story out of me.”
“Waiter!” he yells, and chuckles.
“Let’s talk about you. How many grandchildren do you have, again?”
His eyes light up as he tells me about all five of his grandkids, ages twelve down to seven months. They all live in and around Boise and he has everyone to the house for dinner every Sunday.
“It’s the best part of my week,” he effuses.
“Are you talking about your grandchildren?” Janine jumps in. “Babe, that’s not very sexy.”
I give Janine a quizzical look, but she just takes a sip of wine and winks at me.
“Speaking of sexy, did we tell you guys that we were propositioned by a couple of swingers?” she asks.
“No way!” Ron and I say at the same time. “Oh my God! Tell us every detail!” I add.
Rolly guffaws. “We were in Scottsdale for the Sportsman Show, sitting in the bar at the Marriott talking to this nice couple. We’d had a few drinks and all of a sudden they just asked us.”
I’m so intrigued I can barely contain myself.
“What did you do?”
“We told them we’d think about it!” Janine blurts out and then starts hysterically laughing, so we all do. I’m dying to know more, but our lobster rolls arrive and Rolly starts telling a story about the time he caught a lobster with three claws.
* * *
I’m sweating it out to “I Am Woman,” by Helen Reddy, and Janine is beside me singing her heart out. Carmen is doing a big female empowerment ride in honor of her own birthday. I kind of feel bad for the two guys in the class.
I’m glad we’re doing a double. After last night’s eating and drinking jubilee, I really need to purge some toxins.
Dinner was a lot of fun, and thank God for the Uber, because as per usual when we’re with them, we were about as fit to drive as a monkey on cocaine. On the way home, Ron and I were far too drunk to do a proper postmortem on the dinner, and this morning he was still snoring when I snuck out after leaving cereal on the table for Max.
It’s seriously some kind of miracle that I’m here at all. Between my hangover and the fact that it’s bone-chillingly cold outside, staying in bed was a much more tempting option. But I’m glad I made it, because Carmen’s double birthday ride has proved epic.
As Janine and I drift out of class on a wave of smelly steam and the Indigo Girls’ “Closer to Fine,” I ask her if she has time to hang at the juice bar.
“God, yes, I need some greens in me. I swear my sweat is one hundred proof!”
We both grab bottles of green juice and take a seat in the corner by the window.
“Thanks for dinner last night,” she says after we take a few gulps.
“We always have so much fun with you guys.”
She nods. “We do, too. We should go on vacation somewhere together.”
“That would be insane!” I can’t even begin to imagine what a boozy adventure that would be. “Hey, tell me more about those swingers you met.”
Janine raises an eyebrow. “Something I should know about you, dirty girl?”
I smirk. “No, I’m just so curious. Nothing like that has ever happened to us. I don’t know how I’d react.”
“It took us by surprise, that’s for sure. I’d do it in a second, but I’d have to get Rolly on board.” She gives me an overexaggerated eye roll that makes me wonder if she’s kidding or not. I change the subject.
“Rolly has been so great about helping Ron with the expansion. I hope he doesn’t mind.”
“Please. Rolly doesn’t do anything without a reason.”
What the hell does that mean? I frown and look past her toward the front door. I’m treated to the sight of Vivs rushing in along with three other people, including Buddy’s friend JT.
“Vivs!” I yell a bit too loudly as I wave. “Hi, sweetie!”
“Mom!” She looks up. I’ve clearly startled her. She checks in then stops by our table. “What are you doing here?”
“Spin class. Vivs, this is Janine Schrader. Janine, this is my older daughter, Vivs.”
“Nice to meet you,” they say in unison. I notice JT has stopped and is standing with Vivs. My eyes shoot back and forth between the two of them.
“This is JT. We take the same boxing class.”
“We know each other,” I inform her.
“You do?” She looks at him and he nods.
“Through Peetsa and Buddy. I had no idea you were Jen’s daughter, though. Small world, huh?” He laughs awkwardly and won’t make eye contact with me.
“Well, have a good class, you guys.” I’m trying to give Vivs a look that says, “I’ll be wanting to talk to you about this later.” But all I get is a wave as they walk toward the locker rooms. I look after them, while several unpleasant thoughts enter my mind.
“You don’t look happy,” Janine observes.
“Mmmm” is all I can muster.
“She’s very pretty.” Janine gives me a big smile. “Is that her boyfriend?”
“God, no!” I say adamantly. “Her boyfriend lives in Brooklyn. He’s an architect.” Who am I trying to convince—me or her? I switch the subject. “What are you guys doing for the holidays?”
“We’re taking all Rolly’s kids and grandkids to Miami. Kill me now.”
“Oh wow. Where are you staying?”
“The Fontainebleau. Ever been there?”
“No, but the name alone makes it sound like heaven.”
“Do you guys want to come?”
“To Florida? Yeah, right!”
“I’m serious.”
“Well, for one thing, I have a bucketload of people coming to my house for Christmas. Plus, I t
hink the Fontainebleau is too much for our budget.”
“Not for long,” Janine singsongs.
I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”
She takes a swig of juice. “I mean, after you franchise you’ll be swimming in it, right?”
“Hardly. Ron says we’re going to be poorer before we’re richer.”
“Well, you never know.” She looks like she knows something I don’t.
The green juice has started to work its magic, and thanks to my shy colon syndrome there is no way in the world I can poop at the gym, so I gather my things to indicate I’m heading out.
“So great to see you.” I give Janine a big hug.
“You too. I’ll email you some ideas about where we could all go on a trip.”
“Great!” I say as I sprint for the car. That juice is working faster than usual.
13
The holiday concert and party will forever be my least favorite school event, thanks to the shame of having been fired as class mom three years ago just as the kids were taking the stage to sing. I should be so lucky this year. The safety patrol workload has been a little heavier than I expected, and despite my pleas and promises of poop emojis, I seem to be the go-to fill-in person. It’s always the same story. At least once a week I get a last-minute call from the parent on duty claiming that they’re sick or they forgot about a dentist appointment, and they can’t find anyone else to fill in for them. I’d be dubious about the “I’m sick” claims, but it has been an especially bad flu season. Even Sherlay DeJones hit me up to cover for her one morning. That was a low point.
Ron and I are sitting in the third row with our iPhones ready to catch the magic. I’m always hoping for a moment worthy of America’s Funniest Home Videos, but in four years at this school the only noteworthy moment happened last year when one of the fifth-graders walked into the Christmas tree.
The concert begins, and each class troops out on stage to sing a classic carol. This year the third grade is regaling us with “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,” which they can’t seem to get through without a lot of giggling and kissing sounds. It’s pretty adorable. As soon as they’re done, I slip out of the auditorium and head up to room 402 to make sure everything is ready for the party.
I’m surprised and happy to see that Razzi’s minimalist classroom has been transformed into a winter wonderland, courtesy of dozens of snowflakes, signed by the kids, hanging from the ceiling, and colorful boxes wrapped to look like presents. I see Max’s name on quite a few of the snowflakes and only a couple look like he cut them with a butter knife. Shiny gold garland frames all the windows and little white lights are strung across the teacher’s desk. It looks enchanting.
I quickly deck the back table with all the food that has been dropped off and finish just as the class is returning from the concert along with their parents. The noise is deafening, but Razzi quickly gains control.
“All right, settle down. Children, take your seats. Mike T., get away from the donuts.”
Peetsa has sidled up to me near the breakfast goodies.
“Where is Ron?” she whispers.
“He went to pick up a box of coffee from Dunkin. I wanted it to be good and hot. Is Buddy coming?”
She shakes her head. “We agreed that it would be awkward. He’s picking Mike up after school and they’re going to a movie together.”
“Jennifer, are there peanuts in these muffins?” It’s Shirleen, of course.
“Yes, they’re actually peanut muffins. I made them myself.”
She glares at me. “What have I told you?”
I look at my shoes. “It’s not a joke.”
She nods, satisfied, but I’m not done.
“Shirleen, it’s our fourth year together. Have I ever let a peanut into the classroom?”
“Well, you can’t blame me for asking. You’re a little distracted this year.”
She’s got me there.
“I’ll never be so distracted that I forget about Graydon,” I assure her.
“Shirleen, the cup you made is amazing,” Peetsa chimes in for me.
Shirleen gives us a rare smile.
“Well, I sure had fun getting my wheel out. It’s been a while.”
Leaving them to talk pottery, I go mingle with the other parents. Hunter’s two moms, Kim and Carol Alexander, tell me they are headed to the ski slopes the second they leave this party. They look like they jumped off the pages of an L.L.Bean catalogue. I’m just starting to catch up with Don (Suchafox) and Ali when Razzi takes command of the room by blinking the lights on and off. In a weirdly Pavlovian response, the kids all immediately stop talking and put their hands on their heads. Wow. I may try that at home.
“Happy holidays, everyone! Thank you for coming this morning. I think our kids did a terrific job at the concert.”
There are whoops and clapping from the parents.
“I just wanted to say your children are truly a delight and a gift and I can’t thank you enough for sharing them with me each and every day.”
Wow. I forgot about this sentimental side of Winnie. It’s touching.
“A special thanks to our class mom, Jen, for keeping the trains running on time this year.” To my surprise, this receives genuine applause and one “Woo-hoo!,” from Peetsa. Razzi nods to me and I walk to the front of the classroom.
“Well, thank you, Mrs. Randazzo! Our kids absolutely love being in your class. And we have a little something for you, to say Merry Christmas.” I open a cabinet and pull out the gift from where I hid it earlier.
Razzi unwraps the box and takes out the mug, which I have to say looks great. Between Shirleen’s pottery skills and the kids’ colorful decorations, it’s a win. There are oohs and ahhs from everyone and Razzi seems genuinely touched.
“Thank you! Oh, my goodness. I’m going to put this in a very special place.” She puts it down on her desk. “Okay, let’s eat!” At this, the kids attack the food table like a pack of starving Chihuahuas. Ron walks in with the box of coffee held high over his head so no one accidentally bumps it and ends up with hot French roast on them.
I turn to get some coffee and bump headlong into Alison Lody.
“Alison, hi. How’s it going?”
She shrugs. It’s like this woman is never happy. Either that or she thinks resting bitch face is the new black.
“Do you have plans for the holidays?” I figure that’s a safe enough topic of conversation. I was wrong.
“No. The kids are going to Palm Beach with their father, but I’m staying here.”
I’m about to ask if she has other family to spend Christmas with when a spectacular crash pulls everyone’s attention to the front of the classroom. I look over and am mortified to see that Max and Draper are standing over the broken pieces of Razzi’s Christmas present.
“Oh God, why me?” Alison says under her breath. We both start toward the scene of the crime.
“He did it,” Draper informs the room while pointing at Max.
“No, I didn’t!” Max sounds outraged at the accusation. “He did it.”
“Well, it looks like you both had a hand in it,” Razzi’s voice booms from across the room. “Please pick up the pieces carefully before somebody steps on them.”
They both fall to their knees, mumbling to each other while they clean up the mess.
“What happened, boys?” I ask.
Neither says a word to me.
“Draper, tell Mommy what happened.”
That’s how she talks to her almost nine-year-old? It sounds creepy to me, but to my surprise it’s the key that opens Draper’s lying pie hole.
“I was just looking at the cup and he tried to grab it from me.”
“I was telling him to put it back,” Max explains.
You could hear a pin drop in the class. Razzi walks to her desk with a broom in her hand. “Please, everyone, let’s not stop the fun.” Then she adds, a bit too enthusiastically, “It isn’t a party until something is broken.” Quiet
ly, to Max and Draper, she continues: “Well, I’d say you’re both lucky that this is the last day of school for two weeks. As it is, I’d like one paragraph from each of you explaining why you shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you … at least four sentences. Due the day we get back from vacation, understood?”
“Yes,” they both say with their heads down.
The class goes back to partying, with the help of some Christmas music and a slide show of the kids playing on a screen at the back of the room. I help myself to a cup of coffee and look around at the cast of characters assembled. It’s a nice group, for the most part. Many of them I really don’t know that well, but that’s my fault.
Sylvie Pike wanders in with her black hair flowing behind her like she has a constant wind machine in her face. It makes for quite an entrance. She gives the room a once-over and heads toward me.
“Nice party, Jen.”
“Thanks. Mrs. Randazzo gets credit for the decorations.”
She nods. “I want you to start thinking about ways to raise money to get new safety patrol vests for the grown-ups. I’ve been getting complaints from the parents about having to use the ripped one.”
The look I give her says I don’t really want to know more.
“It’s just, if we make enough money we can think about buying new stop signs, too.”
“You’re killing me.”
She smiles and gives me a one-armed hug. “Perks of the job.”
She drifts over to the treats table and I turn my attention to my son. He’s been waiting to give me a tour of his work on the walls. Once he has shown me all of his assignments, I start to clean up, hoping it will encourage people to be on their way. Ron takes Max down to the lobby to sift through the lost-and-found, which has been vomited onto two large tables near the school entrance. I’m hoping Max’s black mittens turn up.
I’m the last one out of the classroom, so I give Razzi a big hug goodbye.
“Winnie, have a great holiday. And I’m so sorry about the cup. I’ll get the kids to make a new one in January.”
“Oh, please. Don’t even worry about it,” she says kindly. “I have a cupboard full of those.”
She does? And here I thought we’d come up with something unique and special. “Well, I think it would make the kids feel better if we do.”
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