“Laurel’s parents were rather conservative fiscally,” Stan said, and I thought he looked a little unhappy. It made me remember that he was a lot older than the rest of us—at least ten years older than Peter, I think—and I felt bad for him and went to get him another beer. When I came back Laurel was telling a story that had both men laughing.
“. . . and then she said that delusions could be catching and maybe this group wasn’t right for you.”
My face got hot and I felt a little dizzy because she was obviously telling the story about what Esta said to me, which I’d told Laurel, but in confidence. I really didn’t like her telling it to Stan and Peter—especially Peter, who would be worried about me if he thought I was telling morbid stories at group. But then Peter asked, “And what did you say back to her?” and I realized that Laurel was telling the story as if it had happened to her.
Laurel said, “I told her that I’d never heard anything so ridiculous and if she ever said anything like that to me again I’d contact the APA and have her license revoked.”
“Good for you,” Peter said. “You can’t let these people push you around. They think a couple of initials after their names makes them better than the rest of us.”
I knew Peter didn’t think much of psychologists. I’d asked him once if he’d go to one and he said it wouldn’t do any good because he could too easily fool any psychologist into thinking whatever he wanted them to believe. But I was afraid that Stan and Laurel might think this was a strange way of looking at things. Laurel was grinning but Stan looked concerned. “Maybe this woman’s really not helping,” he said.
“Oh, she’s all right,” Laurel said. “Besides, it’s the other women who make the group valuable. Look at how great I’ve felt since I met Daphne.”
That made me feel so good I almost cried! And I instantly forgave Laurel for stealing my story—because of course that’s what she’d done. She’d taken the story I told her about what Esta said to me and made it her own. Only she’d given it a better ending. She added what I should have said back to Esta, which, if you think about it, was her way of defending me.
“Yeah,” I said, “Esta doesn’t matter; the group’s been good because I’ve met Laurel through it.”
“So,” said Peter, “maybe now that you two are friends you don’t need the group—or Esta—anymore.”
This really surprised me, especially after the whole talk we’d had about me being too young for the responsibility of taking care of a baby. But Laurel loved it. “I’ll drink to that,” she said, holding up her glass. “We’ll have more time for the gym.” She winked at me and mouthed, And massages.
I smiled back at her and then looked at Peter. He was smiling too. I thought that seeing me give this party had made him realize how much better I am. I glanced at Stan, but he was looking down at his phone. “Sorry,” he said, “there’s a crisis in the Asia office.”
Peter said Stan could use his computer if he wanted, which really surprised me because Peter never likes anyone to get anywhere near his things. He must really like Stan. Laurel and I stayed out on the deck drinking Prosecco while Peter and Stan went into Peter’s study. It kind of surprised me that Peter wasn’t leaving Stan alone to make his call, but afterward Peter told me Stan asked him to stay to give him advice on some financial point, which I could tell made Peter feel good.
Anyway, while the men were away Laurel and I drank more than we should have. Thank goodness we had Vanessa there in case the babies woke up. I wouldn’t have trusted myself to pick Chloe up. And I really didn’t want to do anything to change Peter’s mind about how well I was doing.
At ten P.M. I sent Vanessa home in a taxi and offered to get Stan and Laurel one but Stan said he’d only had two beers. While I was talking to Stan, Laurel went in to get Chloë. I should have realized she was too drunk and made Stan do it but I wasn’t thinking—I’d really had too much myself!—so when Laurel came back out carrying the car seat, I didn’t realize at first what was wrong. I almost let her go but then I noticed that the baby blanket was about to slip off and when I went to tuck it in I saw it was one of Chloe’s. I knew because it was pink and had her name on it without the umlaut and Laurel always makes sure no one ever forgets the goddamned umlaut! I was going to let it slide but then I looked more closely at the baby in the car seat and realized it was my Chloe!
I think Laurel saw it at the same time because she tried to make a joke out of it. “Whoops! Wrong baby!” she said, taking Chloe—my Chloe!—back to the nursery. “Just checking to see if you would notice the difference.”
Stan and Peter were too busy talking by the door to notice what had happened. Which was good, because I don’t think it was a mistake or that she was testing me. I think that for a moment—just a moment—she had decided that she wanted my baby instead of hers.
Chapter Seven
For the next few days I try to put that blinking light out of my mind. I resist the urge to go to the top of the tower and
