Chapter 5
I spot Penny as soon as Curt’s gray Volvo loops around the lot.
Her window is down and she’s waving at us from the backseat, sporting a jean jacket, her black bangs skimming the top of the mini Wayfarers she was wearing in Jack’s Instagram photo.
She reminds me of me at her age, only with cuter clothes and better parents.
“Hi, Daddy!” she yells.
A reporter from the Washington Business Journal wants to interview Curt for some story about the supply chain, so now Jack is on duty to take Penny to a play date at the park that starts in ten minutes. Curt is dropping her here to save time.
“Hi, sweetie! How’s your morning going?” Jack asks while he unbuckles Penny’s car seat. “Daddy gets to take you to the park to play with Violet now. Isn’t that fun?”
I wave to Curt through the rolled-down passenger window. His head is shaved clean—he must’ve given up on his thinning hair. The thick glasses are the same.
“Hey, I’m Margo.”
“Glad to know you, Margo.” He smiles, but there’s a softness missing from his eyes. “I’m Curt.”
“Sorry, so rude of me!” says Jack, now with Penny next to him on the sidewalk. “Curt, this is Margo, and guess what? She and her husband are thinking about adoption!”
“Oh my, that’s wonderful,” says Curt. “Jack’s the right man to know, then.”
“Yes, he’s been so helpful,” I say, as I crouch down. “And you must be the famous Penny.”
The little girl grins and shakes my hand—precocious. “You’re Daddy’s friend?”
“Yes, honey, Margo is my friend from yoga class,” Jack interjects.
“I have a friend at school called Margo,” Penny tells me. I feel her studying my face. “But you’re prettier than her.”
Jack exchanges a look with Curt.
“Wow, Penny, thank you. I think you’re really pretty, too. But even more important, I can tell you’re super smart, aren’t you? And I hear you’re amazing at gymnastics.”
Penny glows. I catch another glance between her dads. Pretty sure I’m nailing this.
“Can you come to the park with us?” she asks me.
Bull’s-eye.
“Oh, honey, I’m sure Margo has other things she needs to do today,” Jack says.
“That’s okay, I could come for a bit,” I say quickly. “It’s not far from here, right?”
“Really?” Jack looks at me. “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. Sounds like fun.”
Penny takes my hand, the press of her miniature palm doubling my resolve—No house, no baby. I know I’m not supposed to care about gender, or even acknowledge it as anything more than a social construct, but I really would prefer a girl.
“Excellent!” Curt says from the car. “Have a great time, you three. Terrific to meet you, Margo.” He blows Penny a kiss and drives away.
I follow behind the Audi in my ancient Prius, to Grovemont Park, where it appears to be rush hour.
The lot is a jumble of parents pushing strollers and trying to keep a grip on little wrists.
Jack and Penny wait for me by the sign at the entrance.
She takes my hand again and leads me to the playground.
This place is like Disneyland compared to the parks I’ve seen in the city.
A sprawling, bright-blue climbing thing that looks like a dragon curls through one side.
At the other end, a slide spirals down from an elaborate, Craftsman-style treehouse that, in the right neighborhood, could probably fetch an offer or two.
Penny spies her friend on the swings and jets over, pulling me with her.
“Violet! This is Margo!” she yells.
The girl jumps off her swing and runs up to us. She’s a few inches taller than Penny.
“Nice to meet you,” I tell Violet, as a woman with the same mousy hair as the little girl scurries over.
“Hi there, I’m Violet’s mom!” she says loudly, each syllable practically dripping. She doesn’t offer her actual name, or a handshake. “How exciting! Did Jack and Curt finally find a new nanny?”
She carefully enunciates each word, her smile stretched to a disturbing tautness. I know what this is—she’s not sure if I speak English.
Jack catches up to us before I have to explain. “Hey, Claire, this is our friend Margo. She tagged along after yoga.”
The woman’s already pink complexion flushes redder. “Oh! I’m so sorry.” Now she extends a hand. “I’m Claire. So great to meet you.”
Yeah, so great that you can now tell the bitches in your book club you have an ethnic friend.
Penny joins Violet on the swings, and the three of us commandeer a bench nearby.
Claire is still yammering away, trying to convince me—or maybe herself—that she’s not racist. “I’m so embarrassed.
It’s just that Jack has been saying for months they need to find someone.
Haven’t you, Jack? But I should not have assumed.
” She taps my knee. I want to hit her. “The girls’ gymnastics schedule has really ramped up this year, so a lot of us who ditched our help when they started kindergarten are scrambling again. ”
Jack laughs uncomfortably. When Claire’s attention shifts to the girls, he rolls his eyes so only I can see. I shrug in response.
“So, Violet and Penny do gymnastics together?” I ask, packing away my rage.
“Yes, Violet’s a fantastic tumbler,” Jack says, clearly relieved to find the off-ramp. “She and Penny met in Little Gym when they were only three.”
“God, they were just too cute for words back then, right?” Claire chimes in. “Margo, do you have children?”
Not an altogether unreasonable question to ask a full-grown woman hanging out at a playground. But it still hurts (especially coming from a pinched-face twat who probably masturbates to the Lands’ End catalog).
“Not yet,” I say, pleasantly. “My husband and I certainly want them, though. We’ve just started exploring adoption.”
Claire again turns the color of a diaper rash.
“Good for you,” she says. “I’m sure Jack has been a huge help.”
“We haven’t known each other long, but yes, he’s already been awesome,” I say, flashing Jack a smile.
Claire starts to say something else but stops when she sees Violet running toward us in tears. Penny trails her.
“Oh my goodness, sweetheart, what’s the matter?” Claire wraps her daughter into a hug.
Violet struggles to form comprehensible words between sobs but manages to relay the general idea that Penny has shared the news about London.
Claire whips toward Jack, her thin lips parted in surprise. “Is that true?” she gasps.
“I was just about to tell you myself,” he says. “Curt got a senior faculty job—at King’s College. It’s a great opportunity. But trust me, I’m still in shock, too.”
Claire fishes two cookies from the depths of her nautical-striped tote and hands them to the girls, which seems to alleviate some of the drama. Then she rounds back on Jack.
“But London is so far away! And doesn’t Curt already have tenure at Georgetown?” Before Jack can answer, she leans in closer to him. “You know Penny is the star at gymnastics,” she whispers so Violet doesn’t hear. “She’s really been thriving this year.”
This, I’ve gathered, is one of the shitty parts of having children: if your kid makes a best friend, you have to figure out a way to tolerate their parents, no matter how much they suck.
“Well, yes, Curt does have a nice setup at Georgetown, and this will be a very big change for all of us,” Jack starts. “But we’ll be able to travel all over Europe. It’ll be a whole new education for Penny.”
As if he should have to justify any of this. At least the girls seem over it. They’re running back to the swings, cookie crumbs crusted onto the corners of their mouths.
“Oh, of course. I’m sure you’ve been very thoughtful about everything,” says Claire. “Penny just seems very happy here, that’s all. You must’ve really agonized over the decision to uproot her.”
For fuck’s sake, this woman is like a yeast infection in human form. But maybe I can use this.…
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just have to say that I’ve never met another six-year-old like Penny. She’s so confident and mature.” I turn to Jack. “Whenever I’m lucky enough to become a mom, you’ll have to tell me how you and Curt did it.”
His face relaxes. “Thank you,” he says. “That’s lovely.”
“It’s true,” I say. “I just can’t imagine she’ll have any problem at all in London.”
Claire clears her throat, then picks at an imaginary piece of lint on her sleeve. Surely, neutralizing that idiot must’ve won me some points with Jack.
“Margo!” Penny yells from the swings. “Come push us!”
I wave at her and get up from the bench.
“I’ll come, too,” says Jack.
“Thank you for saving me,” he whispers once we’re far enough from Claire. “She’s just upset because Penny is one of Violet’s only friends.”
With each push of her swing, Penny asks me a different question: “What’s your job?” “Where do you live?” “What’s your favorite animal?”
And finally: “Do you want to come over to my house?”
I suck in a breath, waiting for Jack’s reaction.
“That’s a nice idea, sweetie,” he says, while he pushes Violet next to us. He turns to me: “Would you and your husband want to come over for dinner this week?”
A fizzy warmth spreads through my chest.
“Oh my gosh,” I say, “we would love that!”
Jack and I settle on Wednesday at six. I should really start calling her Lucky Penny.