Chapter 20 #2
“I think that means they feel like they haven’t been heard, to be honest,” Anna said.
They had already filled two notebooks in three months of meeting here at Honeycomb.
Two notebooks with ideas both large and small, suggested by all different kinds of parents, some of them friends with Mimi and others not.
It would be impossible, of course, to include every single idea in any kind of new version of the PTO.
Reframing would take time. What were the most important changes she wanted to make?
What were the things that needed to happen to make the PTO better, to make Hamilton better?
“You’d want to start with the dance, anyway, right?
” Di said. Allow everyone in, was what she meant, but, no, that wouldn’t be Anna’s first change, not that.
She would get rid of the preferred membership, eliminate the ability for any parent to spend more to cut the line, prioritize the actual kids, which had been the point in the crusade to begin with.
“It’s the memberships that irk me,” she said. “That people can just skip ahead if they pay more. How many people have complained about the memberships?”
“A lot, actually,” Mary said. “I don’t have the information here, but I have a spreadsheet at home. I can share it with you. I’ve been going back through the notes and keeping them organized and tracking which issues are most popular.”
“Which I guess leads me to another question,” Anna said. “Do we think we have any idea what the vote looks like? We’re just over three weeks away, and I think we’ve done good outreach. We have more to do still. But it’s not like a normal election. We’re not polling people.”
Di and Mary exchanged looks. Mary started to laugh.
“I guess I’m missing something fundamental here,” Anna said.
“Maybe we’ve been asking around,” Di said. “On your behalf.”
“That feels extremely against the rules, but fine. What have you come up with?”
Mary took out a separate notebook, a small black leather one. Anna had never seen it before. She flipped past the first few pages. “To be honest, we’ve been keeping a tally,” she said.
“Like, you’ve been asking people who they support?” Anna said.
“Pretty much exactly that. Don’t act so surprised.” Di grabbed the book from Mary and flipped through, pretending to look shocked at some of the information. “You wouldn’t believe it,” she said. “Simply scandalous.”
“What do I actually need? To accomplish this?” Anna asked.
“We think a better question is: How do you get every single person in Hamilton to come to your side?” Di closed the book before she tallied the numbers. “Look, we have every reason to believe that you are in a position to be elected the next president of the PTO.”
Anna tugged an earlobe. “I didn’t hear you right. It sounded like you just said there are enough votes for me to be elected,” she said.
“That’s what the lady said,” Mary repeated. “A round of beers!”
“Wrong place, wrong time of day,” Anna said. “But seriously. How did this happen? And also, how did this happen without Mimi?”
Glances again. It was as if her two friends had developed a secret language behind her back.
Mimi’s name hung in the air. Anna thought about her meeting with Mimi, at Honeycomb, how different everything had been back then.
Sitting at this same table, sunlight in their eyes, Mimi had been the main attraction.
If they had stayed for half the morning instead of half an hour, the town would have come in to greet her the way they were now greeting Anna.
“You did this, so don’t undersell yourself,” said Mary.
“I do want to say something, though. About all this,” Anna said.
“Take a bow,” Di said.
“No, it’s not a valedictory,” Anna said. “It’s about the . . . other stuff. The bad stuff. It’s been weighing on me, I guess.”
Mary and Di exchanged glances. They gave Anna the floor.
“It’s just that—it’s not that I take any of this stuff seriously, exactly. The texts, or the stupid notes, or even the people who have been icing me out. But I do wonder if this is just going to make all of it worse.”
Mary nodded. “I see what you’re saying. I think it’s probably safe to assume that it’s going to get worse if you win,” she said.
“Right,” Anna said. “Am I prepared for that?”
“Only you can answer that question,” Di said.
“This shouldn’t be this difficult,” Anna said.
“Being a star never is,” Di said.
In truth, Anna hadn’t spent much time entertaining the thought of it—that she could really be the president of the PTO.
But now she was close. She could win. She could make a difference in a town where iniquity was practically baked into the pain au chocolat.
And Anna Plummer realized, suddenly, that she very much wanted this.
She wanted to win, wanted to be wanted. For all the things that she had given up because she was sure that she was not quite good enough (Richter be damned), she was following through to the bitter end because she knew that she would be an excellent president—kind, respectful, thoughtful, willing to listen, open to new ideas.
If she had given up on things before because she thought she was not quite good enough, this was an inflection point.
She was not only good enough; she was great.
Hamilton could be great with her help. She believed that, too.
And here she was, one January later, same place, different crowd. Mimi Mar, dethroned, except not really. That was just a vision. Anna had never quite recovered from that look, that one dark look Mimi had given her at this very table. She would not forget that look.
The forecasters were warning of snow, but for now it was just cold and icy. Anna ducked back into the house before the kids returned from school. Denny never asked where she was going or where she had been.
Denny came in from the shed as the sun was slipping into the trees.
“Should we just go out?” he said, rubbing his hands together from the cold.
He did have an uncanny way of knowing when she was unprepared for dinner.
And she was unprepared. Her mind had been elsewhere, with the little black book and the notes of what to fix in Hamilton and with all the things she would have to do if she actually did win.
“That’s fine. We can just head over to the Tavern.”
“Whatever you want. Can I jump in the shower?” She nodded.
And she wondered what Denny would think of all of this—that Anna Plummer was about to be the Queen Bee.
She’d have to tell him eventually, but maybe it could just wait until after the election.
Maybe he would laugh and laugh, the way he had when they were just a couple of kids on the Montauk docks.
“Take your time,” she said, and she meant it.
The kids peeled their backpacks off like snakes slithering out of old skin and darted into the playroom, ignoring her completely.
In the family room, she looked at that damned green velvet couch, which had been a mistake.
Jewel-toned in the pictures, but they didn’t tell you what could happen if you had a dog.
“Alexa, play Joni Mitchell,” she said into the silence, and at once the room swelled with music, the kind of melancholy music that Di was always getting on her case about.
Don’t listen to that bullshit around me.
It just makes me depressed. Joni wishing for her river that she could skate away on, teaching her feet to fly.
A river so long. That song always came on the radio at Christmas, but it wasn’t really a Christmas song.
It was a song about loss, a song about realizing that what you had was no longer there for the taking.
Mimi would wake up one cold morning, Anna realized, and discover that it was all gone: the PTO, the presidency, the reign.
What then? What would she fight for? Who would she be in Hamilton when she was just another mom?
The songs cycled through. No one ever listened to albums anymore; no one ever listened to the songs in the right order.
Joni Mitchell’s career highlights zoomed on the speakers: Mingus, Blue, Clouds, Ladies of the Canyon.
Anna’s eyes were just beginning to flutter shut when she heard Denny’s voice from the kitchen, like a ghost, like a lifeline, tugging her back to earth, tugging her back to remind her of all the work that remained undone.
“Are you ready?” he asked. “Are you ready to go?”