Fixed Forever Page 7

  “Are you sure she doesn’t want to fuck you enough to resent everyone else who has a piece of you that isn’t her?”

  I’d only watched Fatal Attraction because of Alayna—It wasn’t my type of film—but my mind went immediately to the scenario of a woman terrorizing her one-night-stand, ruining his life when he wouldn’t give her more.

  This was real life, though. Not a movie. And I refused to believe we were dealing with anyone that crazy.

  But my skin felt raw and it itched from the inside because the truth was, I couldn’t be sure.

  For the first time in my life, I was the pawn in someone else’s game.

  7

  Alayna

  I paused when I saw the name on the caller ID.

  "Do you want to talk to Grandma today?" I asked Holden, who was babbling away while he used the coffee table for support.

  "Ba ba ba ba ba," he replied, happily.

  "I believe the word you're looking for is bitch," I muttered to myself before clicking the talk button on my phone. "Hello, Sophia," I said, with as little enthusiasm as she deserved.

  "Good," she said with evident relief. "You answered. I've been trying to reach Hudson all morning, and he won't pick up his phone."

  Because he's smarter than me, I thought.

  "It must be important then. What can I tell him for you?" She hadn't even begun, and I already planned to forget whatever it was she had to say. Since becoming sober, Hudson's mother had found her favorite hobby to be gossip. Every bit of news was a scandal. Every scandal was immediate.

  "It is important, thank you. I had lunch with Louise Gunther, and she knew it wasn't her place to tell me this, but she felt it was her duty. She's been a very good friend and proved it today by passing on this news."

  Very good friend, yet this was the first time I'd heard her name.

  "She plays tennis with Joni Sneed who plays bridge with Caroline Dunlow."

  My ears perked at the name Caroline Dunlow, and I stopped playing peekaboo with Holden to pay closer attention to where Sophia was going with this.

  "Caroline is the director of the New Park Elementary School, as you know. All of the Pierce children and grandchildren have gone there."

  I rolled my eyes at that one. Aryn, Mirabelle’s daughter, had been the only grandchild before Mina.

  "Yes, I know who Caroline Dunlow is." We had registered for Mina to attend New Park in the fall but were still waiting for her acceptance letter.

  "Well. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” Her tone wasn’t the least bit sorry. “But Louise says that Joni says that Caroline says you aren't getting in. I mean, that Mina isn't getting in," Sophia corrected herself. "Obviously, this is a tragedy."

  I stood and started pacing the living room. "I wouldn't quite call it a tragedy, but are you sure that the New Park School is denying Mina's application? We’re perfect candidates, and Mina’s a legacy." It was hard not to be a little smug about my smart, confident, talented oldest child. And frankly, with the Pierce name, we had the money to go anywhere we wanted.

  "I am certain," Sophia said, annoyed that I would doubt her. “Louise was quite clear.”

  "That doesn't make any sense. Mina did fabulous on her preliminary tests and interviews. Our references are spotless."

  "I'm telling you what I heard. And, again, I'm only the messenger here, but she did give me the reason as well."

  There was something a little too excited about Sophia's tone. As though she were delighted to be the one to tell me this terrible thing she was about to say.

  I straightened my spine, preparing for the worst. "Out with it."

  "Unsatisfactory parentage."

  She let the words sink in, though she didn't need to. They hit me like a ton of bricks. Hit me and took me down with them, sinking into the bottom of an ocean.

  "Of course we should have expected this. I don't know why we weren’t prepared beforehand. Should've made an extra donation or contribution to their foundation in the Pierce name, perhaps a scholarship, but of course it’s too late for that now..."

  Sophia went on, chattering about all the reasons why it was inevitable that I would be the downfall of Mina’s education. Of her career. Of her entire destiny. I barely listened to her. The more her voice buzzed in my ear, the more enraged I became. Enraged at her for being so gleeful about disappointing news. Enraged at the women who would gossip so casually about our family’s social standing.

  And most of all, enraged at the New Park School and Carolina Dunlow for only seeing my past history, not the person, the mother, I had become. For holding sins against me that had been out of my control, such as my parents’ deaths while I was still in high school, my mental illness, my poverty, my lack of good breeding.

  It wasn't fair.

  And since when did I let people treat me unjustly? Let alone my children.

  "… about her in the future, Alayna. How is she going to get anywhere going forward if you can’t even get her into the family elementary school?" Sophia meant the question rhetorically, but I jumped in.

  "I'll take care of it. Thanks for letting me know. Goodbye."

  Before I could hang up, she stopped me. "Wait, wait. What are you planning to do? These people need finesse. They are the kind of—"

  "I said I'd take care of it." My rage shot up another notch at the suggestion from my mother-in-law that I wasn't the appropriate one to deal with the situation. I knew she thought Hudson would be the better one to address the New Park School. To approach Caroline Dunlow.

  But I could defend my own honor and integrity as easily as he could. And the whole point was that I was worthy, on my own. That I was a satisfactory parent. Not the kind who sent her spouse to fight her battles.

  I clicked End Call before Sophia could say another word, then threw my phone on the couch in frustration.

  Seeing a bright new shiny toy, Holden eagerly began making his way around the coffee table toward my dropped cell. Quickly, I snatched it back up, and exchanged it for a baby toy. He fussed at the substitution.

  "Yeah, kid. I feel the same way." So, what was I going to do about it?

  I picked up the baby and continued pacing the room. Obviously, I needed to talk to Caroline Dunlow. As soon as possible. Before she sent out the official rejection letter. It probably wouldn't help our situation—once these bureaucratic elites decided what they wanted, their minds were hard to change—but she had a right to know what I thought about her decision. And I had a right to say my piece as well.

  With one hand, I did some searching on my phone. The New Park director's office was open until four. It was almost one-thirty. I had time to make it.

  Shit.

  I swore mentally as Brett started crying over the baby monitor, alerting me she'd woken from her nap. It also reminded me that Maya wasn't here. Mina's day camp had needed extra volunteers for a field trip, and our nanny had elected to be one of those to go.

  "Damnit," I cursed again, under my breath, as I trekked down the hall to get the other baby.

  She stopped crying the minute she saw me, her face lighting up at my presence. "I'm good enough for you, aren't I?" I bopped her on the nose and she giggled. I looked from one baby to the other, formulating a plan of action.

  Finally, knowing neither would respond, I asked, "How would you kids like to go on an outing?"

  It took half an hour to get the babies dressed, changed and ready to go. New Park Elementary was only two blocks from the Bowery, so fortunately it was an easy walk with the double stroller. I packed up the diaper bag and made sure I had enough formula in case one or both of them got hungry, then loaded them into the carriage and headed down the elevator.

  As soon as I stepped into the lobby, a bald man wearing dark glasses and a black suit standing by the wall walked toward me. "Do you need me to call your driver, Mrs. Pierce?" he asked.

  I blinked at the stranger, having never seen him before. Obviously he knew who I was.

  "No, thank you. We're walking today." I eyed him suspiciously as I continued toward the door, and realized he wasn't alone. A second man wearing dark glasses and an earpiece, also in a dark suit, stood near the wall as well.

  "Who are your new henchmen?" I asked Stuart, the doorman, as he hurried to open the door for us.

  He appeared puzzled, as though I'd asked a strange question. "New security team."

  "Oh," was all I said, since it seemed as though I should have already known. And maybe I should have. I’d been so distracted lately, analyzing my marriage, planning my business, having a postpartum breakdown, that I hadn’t paid any attention to the mundane details of anything outside the children.

  "Enjoy your day, Mrs. Pierce," he called after me when I was outside.

  But once I was out the doors and the fresh air hit me, I remembered why it wasn't a good day, remembered my task at hand, and found myself getting riled up all over again.

  I walked down the street at a clipped pace, composing what I meant to say in my head. I knew my best shot at redemption was a dignified speech with well-thought-out points demonstrating my strengths, contrition for the past, and ways that I'd contributed to society.

  But instead of forming a succinct, humble speech, all I wanted to do by the time I reached the front doors of the fancy school was tell Caroline Dunlow off.

  I pushed the handicap button at the entrance and gruffly moved the stroller through the doors of the administration office. The secretary recognized me.

  "Good afternoon, Mrs. Pierce. Is there some way I can help you today?"

  I took a deep breath that didn't seem to calm me at all. "I need to speak to Ms. Dunlow, please. Right away."

  "I'm sorry, but Ms. Dunlow is in a meeting with the board to finalize next year's admissions. Can I take a message and have her get back to you?"

  "She's meeting with the board now? Deciding final admissions right this minute?" If that was the case, then no, I couldn't wait. I needed to talk to her immediately, and if the board was there too, all the better.

  The secretary nodded in affirmation.”Yes, ma’am.”

  "And they’re meeting in this building?"

  "Yes," she said carefully, "they’re in the conference center, but—"

  I didn't let her finish. The conference center had been where we’d had our interviews for the program. I knew exactly where I was going.

  Pushing the stroller forward, I moved hurriedly past her desk and down the long hall.

  "Mrs. Pierce, Mrs. Pierce, you can't go back there!" The high-pitch of her panic seemed to indicate that she was unsure whether she should leave her desk unguarded to follow after me or stay put and call for backup. It was summer, so school wasn't in session, which meant there probably wasn't any security on campus. And, honestly, that secretary was a petite little thing. I was a tiger of a mama with a double stroller as a weapon. I would have been afraid of me too.

  I kind of was afraid of me.

  But I didn’t have time to think it through. I had one shot. I beelined for my destination, praying that Brett’s fussing was only momentary.

  The conference center door was shut when I arrived, so it felt extra dramatic when I flung it open and pushed the babies in ahead of me. A handful of faces turned in my direction—seven, I counted quickly. I didn’t recognize any of them until the woman who had her back to me turned around, and there she was—Ms. Dunlow.

  "Mrs. Pierce,” she said, surprised. “Did we have an appointment?" she asked in that condescending way that said she knew full well that we did not have an appointment, but was being polite about my mistake. "Denise would be happy to reschedule with you at the front—"

  "No, we do not have an appointment. I would not like to make an appointment. I don’t want to talk to you at a later time. I need to speak to you right now. Because from what I’m hearing in the upper circles, if I don't speak to you right now, I won’t have the opportunity to speak with you at all."

  I only paused to take a breath when Ms. Dunlow stood and tried to steer me back toward the door with a nod of her head. "It seems that you're upset, Mrs. Pierce. Alayna. Why don't we take this into another room, and we can—"

  Her patronizing tone, her familiar use of my first name, the way she tried to console me while brushing me aside—all of it only fueled my fury.

  "I do not want to take this into another room. What I have to say needs to be heard by all of you.” I scanned the room, looking deliberately at each face. “All of you. This enrollment system of yours is archaic and downright mean. How can you possibly determine my child's ability to be educated simply by looking at the circumstances under which her mother was born and raised? Obviously you aren’t taking into consideration all I have done to rise above my station, the lengths I have gone to in order to overcome my past, and the hurdles and the struggles that have faced me. I have an MBA. I graduated first in my class with a 4.0 grade average. I manage my own business.

  “But even if I hadn’t done those things, even if I were ‘just a housewife,’ this determination is classist and pompous and really just terrible-ist. Especially, especially, letting other people know that I'm an unsatisfactory parent before you even inform me…?" I had to raise my voice then, since Brett’s whine had become a real cry. "It's disgusting and intolerable, and I can't believe that we donated funds to this program or that we even wanted to enroll our daughter in the first place. Really. You should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

  A woman sitting across the table stood from her chair. "Caroline, I'll handle this," she said smoothly.

  I reached down to grab Brett out of the stroller, asking as I undid the buckle, "Who, may I ask, are you?" I didn’t like the idea of being passed off, and I certainly didn’t like people to think they needed to handle me.

  I glared at her, waiting for her answer. She was older than me by ten years, maybe even twenty—it was hard to tell with all the Botox and fillers in her face. Her hair was beautifully set, so stiff it didn’t move when she turned her neck, and her eyes were sharp behind the Vera Wang readers perched on her nose.

  "My name is Judith Cleary,” she said. “Caroline is the director here, but I am the head of admissions. I am not sure how you came to the information that you were to be rejected, or who it was that leaked that the reasoning was unsatisfactory parentage, but I am afraid that your facts are not entirely complete."

  Bouncing Brett up and down on my hip, I felt my stomach start to sink. "What do you mean?" If Sophia’s information had been wrong, so help me God...

  "It wasn't because of you that Mina was given the unsatisfactory parentage enrollment denial, although given these circumstances..."

  I ignored the pointedness of her statement and focused on what she’d said first. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would Hudson be considered unsatisfactory?"

  Judith Cleary's smile felt cold and mean, sending a chill down my spine. "That, I'm afraid, you'll have to ask your husband."

  I tried to call Hudson’s cell four times on the way back to the Bowery with no answer. I called his office directly, and Trish told me he'd put his phone on do not disturb, and asked not to be interrupted. Which was fine when it was his mother calling him, but a totally different story when it was me.

  "Would you like me to knock anyway?" Trish asked.

  If he was going to have to be interrupted, I wouldn’t have his full attention. Not over the phone. Maybe it would be better to wait until we could be face to face. That would have to be later because I wasn’t dragging Brett and Holden to Midtown. “No, that’s okay. I’ll see him tonight.”

  When I got back to the building, Stuart was already holding the door open for Mina and the nanny. With the sudden option of not having to lug the twins around, my plans for the rest of the afternoon could change.

  Good. Because I was going to fixate until I talked to Hudson.

  "Maya, I need to run an errand," I said after properly greeting my four-year old. "Would you mind taking the twins up with you?"

  "Of course not, Mrs. Pierce.”

  With my children and their caretaker headed up to the penthouse, I strolled over to the security guard from earlier, the one who'd approached me. I noticed he was alone this time.

  "Now I'd like my driver," I said to him.

  Just then the doors opened and the other guard walked in. He seemed almost startled at the sight of me. As though he’d been waiting outside for me to leave and thought I’d be gone by now.

  Had he been following me?

  "Your driver is right now parking in the garage," security man number one said, pulling my attention back to him. "Would you like to meet him down there, or have him pick you up at the curb?"

  "I'll go down there." I suddenly wanted to get out of the lobby and away from the men who not only knew my name and were possibly tailing me, but also seemed to have my private driver on speed dial.

  By the time I got to Pierce Industries, though, I'd dismissed my thoughts about the security guards as paranoia and moved back to Judith Cleary and her perplexing statement. Did Hudson know her? He’d never mentioned knowing anyone on the board when we’d applied to the school, but maybe he hadn’t been aware she was a member. Or he hadn’t wanted to tell me. She seemed to think he’d understand why we’d been rejected when I told him her name, but why?

  "His phone is still on do not disturb," Trish said when I walked into Hudson's waiting area. "He's pretty much had his doors closed all week. I'm sure you can go right on in."

  I was glad she was sure that I could, because I was going to.

  I walked into his office, shutting the door behind me quietly in case he was in the middle of a serious phone call or train of thought. Hudson, however, wasn't in his office at all. If Trish thought he was, though, there was only one place he could be.

  I pushed the button, hoping the key was inside. And it was. Which definitely meant he was in the loft. I rode the one level up and walked out into the living room of the apartment above Hudson's office.

  I spotted him right away, sitting on the couch in front of his computer screen.

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