Chapter 14 Liz #2
Liz laughed. Behind the counter, a cappuccino machine hissed and released steam into the air. “Who’s coming?”
“Ellen, Deborah, and Annalise, who are throwing it, my assistant Harper, maybe Jen, my OB, and almost all the women from Dawn’s class.”
“That’s nice!”
“Is it?” Victoria raised an eyebrow. Liz knew Victoria had gone back and forth on whether to invite their classmates. “Or is it a sad and pathetic attempt to fill seats, the pitiful move of a woman who doesn’t have any friends?”
“You have friends.”
“I have you,” Victoria said. Liz felt her chest swell with warmth. “But apparently a six-person baby shower would not suffice.” Victoria held her hands up. “Did you decide on a date for yours?”
“I still have to get back to Cara,” Liz said.
“Liz Reynolds, for someone who was championing the sacred occasion of the baby shower mere minutes ago, are you avoiding your own?”
“No. And by that I mean, yes, obviously. I don’t want to think about Angela being around you or any other friend I want to continue having in my life.
But I also have to invite Preston’s mom and sister this weekend.
One thing at a time.” Liz tried not to think about how it was one thing of so many things.
Focus on the task at hand so you don’t get overwhelmed, her therapist often encouraged, like emotional triage was on par with the standard operating procedure of an emergency department on a Shonda Rhimes show.
“Fair enough,” Victoria said. “And if you want me to run interference with Angela or talk about polo with Preston’s mom the whole time, I’m happy to.”
“I couldn’t ask that of you,” Liz said.
“Sure you could. You’re my best friend.”
Liz’s grin stretched to the far corners of her face. She turned the words over in her head. Victoria was her best friend.
Liz walked into the lobby of the Four Seasons.
A three-foot floral arrangement, architectural in scope, rose above a shiny lacquered round table.
Liz paused to admire it, then found a discreet sign in a gold frame listing the private events being held that day.
She headed towards the Wetherly Gardens and Terrace and saw that Victoria’s coworkers had spared no expense.
It was luxurious but tasteful, a bucolic garden dreamscape come to life.
And—crucially—there wasn’t a diaper tower or baby bottle station that would offend Victoria to her core.
A single long table, twenty chairs on each side, had a pale blue tablecloth and was set with bone-white china.
Calligraphed place cards sat at the top of each plate, and the table was decorated with simple, elegant clusters of ranunculus in silver vases.
The temperature was perfect, like the weather had been prearranged.
Birds were chirping, lending their natural soundtrack as an accompaniment to the coffeehouse acoustic set filtering in from the speakers, butterflies fluttered through the air, and the sheer magnificence and abundance of the garden almost made it seem fake.
“Liz, you’re here!” Victoria said, stepping away from a trio of women gathered in front of a gracefully gurgling fountain. Victoria found Liz’s side and hugged her, not letting go of Liz’s arm.
“You look beautiful.” Liz thought Victoria had never looked more stunning in the feminine cream sheath dress she was wearing, its precise tailoring the only evidence of what Liz assumed was its considerable designer expense.
“Hiiiii!” a leggy twenty-something squealed as she loped over to them in a miniskirt the size of a postage stamp.
“Harper,” Victoria said, greeting her warmly.
Ah, Liz thought, the assistant. Victoria introduced them and then Harper looked around and exclaimed, “This is a-maze-ing! It’s my first baby shower.
Obsessed! And I’m finally meeting Victoria’s best friend!
” Without any forewarning, and with the ease of someone whose advances had always been welcomed, Harper wrapped Liz in a hug.
Thirty minutes later, after the guests had helped themselves to the passed hors d’oeuvres and started sitting down at the table, Jen hurried in and Liz saw Victoria’s face light up with pleasure that her old friend had made the effort to attend.
Liz greeted Jen, who said it was nice to see her at a happy occasion instead of a funeral, and then both of them were touched to see that they had been assigned the seats on either side of the guest of honor.
The lunch passed like a dream, the event humming with harmony.
Conversation and laughter flowed around the table, and the setting was so perfect that if a rainbow had appeared, arching over them, Liz wouldn’t have been surprised.
She thought: This is what all baby showers should be like.
Two of Cara’s had been dampened by her obvious displeasure that she was having another boy, the shower for Madison’s twins had included a double amount of everything cringey (a blind diaper-changing challenge, a pacifier scavenger hunt, a craft corner for decorating bibs), and Freya’s baby showers had been so over-the-top (one had called for black tie) that they must’ve been planned by Liberace himself.
This, on the other hand, was understated and flawless.
And yes, an insane amount of estrogen was rocketing through Liz’s body, magnifying her emotions, but the whole thing was just so…
lovely. The ambiance, the joyful chatter around the table…
Liz felt like she was wrapped in a cocoon of divine feminine energy; she felt like she was connected to life and the world of women in a way she had never experienced before.
Liz looked over at Victoria and saw that she also seemed like she was enjoying herself.
“I told you,” Liz whispered to Victoria. “Isn’t this nice?”
“I’ll deny it if you ever repeat it,” Victoria said. “But it actually is.”
Liz smiled. There was something about being part of the undeniable womanhood in the room that was like getting caught up in a great song at a music festival, the syncopating beat and enthusiasm of the crowd carrying you like the current of a wave.
One of Victoria’s coworkers stood up and tapped her spoon against a glass—was it Ellen or Deborah? The room quieted. Liz snuck a glance at Victoria, but she appeared at ease, even if all eyes were turning to her for the toast.
“I’ll keep this short and sweet,” Victoria’s coworker said.
“Mainly because we were warned not to do anything Victoria would hate, which rules out…a lot?” She paused for polite laughter.
“I’m kidding! But I am pretty sure a gushy speech is a no-no.
So, Victoria, I’ll just say that we’re so happy for you.
We’re excited to see how becoming a mom challenges you and frustrates you and drives you nuts—am I right, ladies?
Because that’s part of it—it’s beautiful and brutal, but being a mom is like nothing else you’ll ever do.
From the bottom of our hearts, congratulations, and welcome to the club. ”
Everyone cried out “Cheers” and clinked their glasses against one another’s. Jen asked Victoria if she could say a few words, and Victoria mockingly rolled her eyes. “I suppose it’s a free-for-all now.”
Liz had prepared some thoughts for her toast but nervously ran through them again, listening with one ear as Jen began.
“Most people assume Victoria never got anything less than an A, and they’d be right—almost. The one bad grade on her transcript, which she probably still loses sleep over, knowing her—”
“Don’t remind me,” Victoria interrupted, with a smile.
“Was home ec. It was a requirement, and even though Victoria could solve the toughest equations in precalc, our beloved Victoria couldn’t unfold an ironing board.
” Jen paused for a smattering of laughter.
“One time, she sewed over the teacher’s finger.
Another time, Victoria almost blew up the classroom because she put tin foil in the microwave. ”
Liz saw that Harper was slapping the table. This would be a hard act to follow.
“But it was the childcare portion of the class where Victoria really shone,” Jen said.
“We had to carry around an egg for a week, learning how to protect something so fragile. The goal was: Don’t let it crack.
It was a tough task and most of us didn’t make it the whole week.
But Victoria went through a whole carton of eggs… on the very first day!”
Victoria shook her head, her face glowing with amusement.
“Everywhere she went—splat! There was a trail of eggs. Victoria’s yolk kiddos were all over the place. Which is why Victoria Miller got her one and only failing grade.”
“And now you know why I don’t care for omelets,” Victoria said.
“But Victoria has come a long way since then,” Jen said. She turned to face her old friend. “I’m glad we reconnected. We’ve known each other a long time and I’ve watched you accomplish so much, but I think the best is yet to come.”
Victoria and Jen embraced, and then Liz unsteadily stood up. She was never at ease with public speaking, but she wanted to express to Victoria how much her friendship meant to her.
“I’m excited for you too, Victoria,” Liz began.
“I’m excited to be moms together. But I’m most excited for your baby.
He doesn’t know this yet, but he’s the luckiest little boy in the world because he has a mom who’s fearless.
You stand up for yourself and for other people, and you’re so brave and smart and fierce that I think sometimes it’s easy for people to miss how loving you are too.
You want the best for the people around you.
You admit when you’re wrong and you apologize, which is rare.
You can seat-dance while going eighty miles an hour on the freeway like nobody’s business.
I have no doubt that you’re going to be an incredible mom, Victoria, because even if you couldn’t keep those eggs from breaking, you haven’t let me crack. ”
The force of Victoria’s embrace almost knocked Liz over. Around her, she heard sniffles.
“I LOVE BABY SHOWERS!” Harper cried out, prompting laughter and cutting through the thick sentimentality in the air. “Women supporting women! Girl power! Yasssss!”
Liz and Victoria disentangled their limbs and sat back down, still beaming at each other.
Liz basked in the moment, letting herself enjoy the glory of feeling like she finally had a friend with whom she could be open and honest, who saw her for who she was and loved her for it—or loved her anyway.
“Do you have a name picked out?” Annalise asked Victoria, tucking into a rosé-colored macaron.
Waiters were carrying out platters of cakes, éclairs, and jewellike truffles.
“We want to give the baby a name that starts with an M in honor of Ace’s mom,” Victoria said. “Jews often name their children after a relative who has passed, and if it’s the opposite sex, they use the first initial. Her name was Mildred.”
“Thank God you’re not having a girl!” Harper said.
“We’re naming our boy Leo Grayson!” one of the women called out. “Dibs on Leo Grayson!”
Other women began revealing—and securing ownership over—their future children’s names, and Liz realized that no matter the gender, she was probably going to have a Brady, Jordan, or Kobe…
unless it was a William, George, Charlotte, or Louis.
Liz didn’t have a family member she wanted to honor by naming her offspring after them, but having a child named for a sports star or a member of the royal family wasn’t an appealing prospect either.
She was mulling over how best to present her case to Preston and deciding between an apple tartlet and a sliver of carrot cake when there was a flurry of movement, the guests’ attention shifting to the door.
“I love this part,” Annalise said.
“My husband brought balloons instead of flowers to my shower,” Ellen griped.
“Mine better show up with a Cartier box,” one of the women from Dawn’s class said.
Liz craned her neck to get a glimpse of Ace as he carried out the time-honored ritual of showing up towards the end of the baby shower, bouquet in hand, to honor his pregnant wife.
She couldn’t believe she was finally meeting Victoria’s husband for the first time at her baby shower.
It was with no small amount of anticipation that Liz twisted forward in her seat until Ace’s frame came into view.
Then the crowd shifted, and as Liz’s gaze glommed on to Ace’s features, the world as she had known it tilted on its axis and fell away.
Liz staggered to her feet to get a better, unobstructed view of his face and felt the color drain from hers.
Liz stared and stared at Victoria’s husband, her heart pounding against her rib cage like a drum.
“Dad?” she said.