10. Charlotte Most Powerful Woman in the Room
Charlotte Most Powerful Woman in the Room
I was already beginning to love the flurry of the mornings at the mommune. All the kids together, Alice being the one to nag them about plans and whether they had everything they needed. Julie had told me that the key to life here was to pretend that you were at summer camp. Grace, Julie, and I were the counselors-in-training, Alice was head counselor, and the kids were campers. Because if you thought about it too much, Juniper Shores Socialite—who had, for better or worse, become the running inner dialogue of the people—was right: living at the mommune was weird. A bunch of grown women raising their kids in the same house? Unconventional. But if you thought of it like summer camp, then it wasn’t weird. For a brief period of time, we were under one roof, eating together, laughing together, making new friends that I hoped we’d have forever. It was great. If I could set aside the deep, painful longing for the man I loved, that is.
I walked down the stairs, feeling determined to make the best of every situation today. I wondered, briefly, if Iris and I should go back home.
But then Audrey flew from around the corner from the first-floor bunk room. “I want to go on the beach!” she shrieked to me.
And I remembered how much being here felt safe and comforting. I decided I would be honest with Alice that we could go home. But I distinctly hoped she’d let us stay anyway.
“Me too! Me too!” Jamie chimed in, racing down the hall, already in her kindergarten jumper, Julie on her heels.
“Hi!” she said to me breathlessly but sunnily. “Audrey! There you are. We have to get you ready!”
I shook my head. “I’ll get her ready. You get to work. There’s nothing worse than being rushed.”
“I’ll take them to school!” Alice said, standing up from the living room couch. I hadn’t even seen her.
“I made lemon muffins!” Grace called from upstairs. She appeared on the landing, still in her flannel pajamas, toothbrush in hand. “Grab one on your way out. They are divine, if I do say so myself.”
Julie kissed my cheek and then Grace’s. “The two of you are angels from heaven. I swear that you are. I can’t live without you, and I love you so.” She rushed out.
“I need milk,” Audrey said, studying my face. “So I can grow big and strong.” She flexed her muscles.
Organic milk and butter from a local farm were the only non-vegan items Grace allowed in her kitchen. She believed the fat was good for little brains and the probiotics were good for all our bellies. After growing up in the fat-free era, I still found it surprising that all that whole-fat milk was now considered good for us. But things were always changing. I was Exhibit A.
Speaking of change, Iris was helping Brenna butter her muffin and Jamie up on a stool. She peeled a banana for Jamie and handed it to her. She had slid right into this crazy world.
I kissed Iris, who was all ready for school in her plaid skirt and white blouse, picking blueberries out of the communal bowl of fruit salad.
I smelled Merit before I saw him. Teenage boys and their cologne… Emma was hot on his heels. I could tell she was smitten with Iris, already worshipping the ground she walked on. Merit pulled Iris’s ponytail playfully, and the two older girls rolled their eyes at each other. But Iris blushed.
“Do you have your lunch?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Iris said. She brightened. “Look at what Grace made me!” She opened a bento box with what appeared to be pinwheel veggie and hummus wraps, fruit skewers, potato wedges, and cookies that were, no doubt, homemade. That irked me, but I didn’t have time to feel irritated right now.
“Homework?”
Iris nodded, her mouth full of muffin.
“Charlotte, I can take Iris to school,” Merit said. “Emma and I have to go anyway.”
I tried to ignore how Iris’s face lit up.
Under ordinary circumstances, I wouldn’t have let Iris ride around with a sixteen-year-old boy. But these weren’t normal circumstances.
“Well, that would be amazing, Merit. Because I, for one, have a full day of…” I paused dramatically. “Job interviews!”
“Yay, Mom!” Iris said.
“Go, Charlotte,” Merit said.
Brenna and Jamie broke out in applause right as Grace reappeared in the kitchen, dressed, toothbrush nowhere to be seen. “I have tons of errands to run today. Why don’t I drive you to your interviews?”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.…”
“I insist,” Grace said.
“We’re here to help!” Alice sang.
Did this really work? It seemed like it. Crazy. But I guessed under this roof, you knew when someone did something for you, it was coming back your way.
I smiled. “Okay. Well, if you’re sure, I’ll take you up on it.”
“Good luck, Mom!” Iris said.
“Okay, okay!” Alice said. “Morning mommune meeting time!”
The kids rolled their eyes, but they all congregated.
“Middle school and high school drop-off?” she asked.
“Me!” Merit said.
“Elementary school drop-off, me,” Alice said. Then she asked, “Pickup?”
“Charlotte and I have elementary school pickup at two forty and Emma at three, and Merit has post-sports,” Grace said.
Merit nodded in agreement.
“Lunches?” Alice asked.
Six lunch boxes went up in the air.
“Computers?”
Five hands went to computers in their backpacks, and Emma said, “Oh, shoot!” and dashed upstairs.
“Water bottles?”
Brenna grimaced and ran around to grab hers from beside the sink, but the others gave Alice a thumbs-up.
“Yay!” Grace said. “Love you all! Have a fabulous day and learn a lot!” She kissed Emma’s cheek as she flew back up the stairs.
“Let’s go, middle and high school crew,” Merit finished.
“I love you, little girl!” I said to Iris, kissing her on the cheek.
“Mo-om,” she said, pulling away from me.
I’d take that as she loved me too.
“Charlotte, let’s get our stuff and I’ll meet you down here in five for interview domination!” Grace said.
In a flurry of backpacks and car keys, they were all gone.
I ran upstairs to freshen my makeup even though I’d done it twenty minutes ago, as if that would be the thing to secure me a job. As I swiped my left eye with mascara, I heard a light tap on the door and turned to see Julie. True to her promise, she hadn’t said one word about Bill or his scandal since I arrived. She was a funny little bird. She had told me straight out that she believed she was doing our town an incredible service by providing local news stories in an in-depth way that they would never get from a bigger publication, that they would never see on national news. She had a master’s degree. She’d won a daytime Emmy for her on-air reporting back in Charlotte, for crying out loud. She was very proud of herself, and why shouldn’t she be? I admired her confidence. I would need to borrow it to help Bill. But first, I needed a plan.
Julie’s face, pretty and symmetrical, was covered with way too much makeup, her blond hair sprayed into place so that even the beach wind couldn’t muss it, a holdover from her days as a TV journalist, I imagined. Without all that makeup, when her hair was free and flowing and beachy, she was downright beautiful. I wondered when she would get her second act. She certainly had her hands full with her girls, but wasn’t motherhood the art of juggling?
“Hi,” I said, smiling. “I thought you left.”
She smiled back. “I did, but I forgot…” She held up her phone. “The negative to storing them at dinner is you sometimes forget them in the morning!”
I nodded.
“Before I left, I just wanted to wish you luck. Remember, you are the most powerful woman in any room you walk into.” She paused. “That I’m not in, of course.”
We both laughed. “Thank you,” I said. “To be honest with you, Julie, I needed that. This has really shaken my confidence.”
“What do you mean?”
I sighed and perched on the edge of the bed. “I always had this idea that companies would be clamoring to hire me. And now no one will even return my calls.”
“It will get better, Charlotte. I promise you, it will. Either way, you’ll land on your feet.” She paused. “And if you don’t, you can just stay here with us.”
We both laughed again.
“For real,” she said. “I just wanted to say that Gabe Montoya will love you, but he’s kind of old school. He’s of that ‘little woman’ ilk, which is annoying, but he’s a good guy. He just doesn’t quite get it. Don’t be thrown by it.”
That was very helpful. I was interviewing with Gabe today.
“Paul Lucas is kind of an ass, but once he knows you’re smarter than he is, he’ll calm down. Weirdly, he likes to be in charge, but he loves an employee who knows more than he does.” She paused. “Which you do.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Julie. Seriously.”
“They’d be idiots not to realize that your misfortune is their best day ever.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Okay. I’m off to the mean streets of Juniper Shores to correct injustices and spread the good word.”
I laughed, remembering that, in Julie’s capable hands, one lunch lady’s cold turned into “Possible Covid-19 Tsunami Sweeps Juniper Shores Prep.” That a councilwoman sleeping with her male assistant bloomed into “Sex Ring Overtakes Small Town.”
Then I had a thought. I gasped. “It’s you!”
“What’s me?”
“You’re Juniper Shores Socialite!”
She laughed and shook her head. “Please. Charlotte, I’m kind of offended. I’m a serious journalist.”
Sort of, I thought.
“Would you tell me if you were?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
“Definitely not,” she said. “But I wouldn’t write about my own aunt—or you. Because I promised.”
That did make sense. Just then my phone rang, and I jumped up to grab it off the dresser, seeing a 917 number—a New York City area code—that I thought I knew. “Ah!” I squealed. “This is about a job!”
Julie nodded and waved as she stepped out of the room.
“Hello,” I said breezily.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Charlotte Nicholson,” the voice on the other end of the line said.
Yup. Bradley (not Brad!!) Mellon. I wanted to correct him, to say it was Sitterly, a fact I was feeling more confident about now that I was 99 percent sure my husband hadn’t stolen millions of dollars from his clients. But, well, I needed Bradley’s help, and I didn’t exactly want to remind him either that I was married or that I was associated with Bill in any way.
“Hi, Bradley! Long time no talk.”
“Uh-huh. I’m hoping you’re calling because you’ve come to your senses after sixteen years and want a second chance at love with Bradley. But I presume you want something else.”
I laughed. I had to take a deep breath, to pretend that I was still that same nerves-of-steel Charlotte he had once known. Well, once been almost-engaged-to, to be exact. I had told him I wasn’t ready to get married, and then had met Bill and gotten engaged five months later, which hadn’t gone over that well. Bill … I had been up half the night, my mind racing with how to get him home, with how much I needed a job, with how Iris was faring in these new circumstances. Usually when I was worried in the night, Bill would roll over and pull me to him, wrapping me in his arms, his breath soothing and rhythmic in my ear. Remembering only made it harder to fall asleep, but I’d eventually drifted off. I had to put that aside and be as cheery yet tough as possible. I needed to sound employable.
“Well, Bradley, I’m finally ready to come back to work, and I’m calling you first.”
Bradley had done very well and had his own midsize investment firm that got great returns. He was a smart cookie and very well-connected. He just wasn’t the love of my life. And, no, under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even consider working for an ex, but, under these circumstances, I had a daughter to support—and if New York and Bradley were the way to do it, then sign me up.
“Uh-huh.” He was a little breathless, and I could tell his feet were pounding the treadmill. “Char, look, I have a soft spot for you. You’re smart as a whip and a real ballbuster. But you’ve got to give me some time here. I can’t hire you until your name is good and cleared.”
I felt deflated—but wasn’t it Bradley who had taught me that you had to overcome three objections before you’d get someone to say yes? “Bradley, I get that. I do. But the thing is, not only am I innocent, so is Bill. We have everything we need to get his name cleared. We’re just dotting some i’s and crossing some t’s.”
So, yeah. No way around it. That was a big, fat lie.
“Oh, Char. Do you believe that?”
Okay. Now he was pissing me off. “Bradley, it doesn’t matter. This isn’t about Bill. It’s about me.”
“Call me in four months,” he said, getting more out of breath. I heard the motor on the treadmill stop. “Hey, Char. Are you serious? You think he’s innocent?”
“I mean it, Bradley.” Not Brad! Never Brad! “He’s innocent. Someone set him up.”
“Well, Oliver Engle is the best. He’ll figure it out. In the meantime, I promise I’ll help you any way I can.”
My eyes puddled at the kindness. “By giving me a job!” I said, with faux brightness.
“Four months!” he said.
“Two!” I countered.
He sighed. “Call me in three.” The treadmill started up again. “Hey, in the meantime, do you need money? I heard all your assets were frozen.”
I wasn’t expecting that, but Bradley was a very frank person, so maybe I should have. “What I need from you is to figure out how millions of dollars that Bill rightfully invested just disappeared.” I obviously did need money, and Bradley had so much of it that he wouldn’t even sneeze. But I would never .
Bradley made a dubious sound. “Sounds innocent to me.”
“Bradley!” I scolded.
“I hate Bill Sitterly, but I’ve always liked you. I’ll think about it, and I’ll help you if I can. But, for now, you’re killing my mile time.”
I smiled. Some things never changed. He’d been working on that mile time the whole time I’d known him.
“Okay. Hope you beat your record. Thank you!”
He hung up. And I couldn’t help but smile at myself in the mirror. So, no, nothing was fixed. I hadn’t gotten a job. But someone—anyone—had called me back. Someone would give me a job, even if it was in four months—no, three. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.
I made my way down the stairs and took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I closed my eyes, thinking that, if Bill were here, he would tell me I was smart and confident and beautiful, and he would defy anyone to tell Charlotte Sitterly no! I smiled just thinking of it. It helped a little.
I was just turning toward the side door when someone knocked on it. When I opened it, the FedEx driver’s scanner made a little beeping noise, and he handed me a package. “Here you go, ma’am.”
“Thank you!” I said as he jogged down the steps.
To my surprise, the package was addressed to me. I knew I needed to leave for my interviews, but I couldn’t resist grabbing the scissors from the kitchen drawer and tearing into the box. As I unwrapped the packaging, I laughed: Serendipity Frrrozen Hot Chocolate Mix. I didn’t need to read the card to know it was from Bill. Or, well, Oliver, since Bill had no money and no internet ordering access. But still. What an amazingly thoughtful gesture. The card inside read: I love you more than iced hot chocolate—and you’re going to knock ’em dead today. Thanks for believing in me. It was a somewhat awkwardly phrased one-hundred-twenty-characters-or-less typed enclosure card. But it was from Bill. And I couldn’t have loved it more.
I was holding the card to my chest as if it could hug me back when Grace walked in. She smiled. “Oh, hot chocolate!”
“Definitely not vegan,” I said.
She linked her arm in mine. “That’s okay. It seems like, whatever it is, it was just what you needed today.”
I nodded, slipping the card in my pocket. It was like having Bill right there with me. And a reminder that today I was going to knock ’em dead.