“Lunch at the White House can be so stressful,” Dina said.
“Don’t I know it,” Christy agreed. She was glad Dina didn’t ask more about washing Michael’s laundry, since she didn’t even know how to use the fancy European washing machine they’d just bought. She decided then and there that she needed to learn.
“You know, the reason I couldn’t give up my work was because I get such a charge out of touching millions of people. You were able to do that at Baby G. Is it enough for you to make a difference in the lives of only two people?” Dina asked.
This was the burning question that Christy had been asking herself. “Working as hard as a CEO has to work, I could never have sustained a warm and loving marriage. I couldn’t have put my stamp on Renata as she grew up. Anyone can run a company. I’m the only one who could do those things.”
“You make me want to quit my job and stay home,” Dina said.
“Would you like to meet my daughter?” Christy asked.
“Absolutely!”
“I’ll be right back.” Christy walked down the hall to Renata’s room and opened the door. The child stood in front of her vanity mirror making odd facial expressions. “What are you doing?” Christy asked.
“I’m practicing my bedroom face,” she said. “Mrs. De Mille’s been giving me lessons. Look at this.” Renata lowered her eyelids and made her lips all pouty. She looked pretty darn sexy, and Christy realized that she would have her hands full in a few years.
She laughed because she didn’t know how else to react. “Come on, gorgeous. I need you in the living room. The reporter’s here. But don’t mention your bedroom face.”
“Remind me again why we have to pretend to be a normal family?” Renata asked.
Christy’s face reddened. “C’mon Renata, work with me here.”
Renata grabbed a math workbook and a Rubik’s Cube and followed Christy out. As soon as they were in Dina’s range, the child spoke. “Mommy, can you help me solve this Pubic Cube?”
Mommy! Renata had never called Christy “mommy” before. Did she mean it? Christy wondered. Dina met Renata. Michael strolled in at the right moment. He introduced himself to Dina and proceeded to charm her. Christy sat down with Renata and tried unsuccessfully to help her solve the cube. Wolf snapped pictures of the moment.
“Can we have some family shots?” Wolf asked.
“Oh, sure,” Michael said.
Michael, Christy, and Renata posed in front of the fireplace like a Norman Rockwell family.
Soon, Dina and Wolf were saying good-bye. “Go easy on me,” Christy shouted in jest (but not really) as they walked out.
The Best News Possible
DEAR DIARY,
I VISITED MRS. DE MILLE YESTERDAY. SHE’S BEEN SICK. ME AND MR. KOODLES SNUGGLED UP IN BED WITH HER. SHE TOLD ME THE STORY OF MRS. KOODLES (MR. KOODLES’ WIFE CAT) WHO DIED A FEW YEARS AGO. SHE COULD TURN BACKWARD FLIPS LIKE A CIRCUS CAT. WHAT A FINE ANIMAL SHE MUST HAVE BEEN. MRS. DE MILLE ASKED ME IF I’D BE MR. KOODLES’ GUARDIAN IF ANYTHING HAPPENED TO HER (LIKE IF SHE DIED). I TOLD HER IT WOULD BE MY HONOR.
BREAKING NEWS ON THE HOME FRONT! NECTAR DECIDED TO STAY! IT’S A MIRACLE. SHE SAYS CHRISTY’S NOT READY TO PRACTICE MOTHERHOOD WITHOUT SUPRAVISION. HELLO! THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING ALL ALONG. CHRISTY HAD A GOOD IDEA TO MAKE THE GIRLS AT SCHOOL BE NICER TO ME. FOR MY BIRTHDAY, WE’RE INVITING MY CLASS TO THE GWEN STEFANI CONCERT AT MADISON SQUARE GARDEN. I’M GOING TO SURPRISE EVERYONE WITH CUPCAKES AND STICK THE PARTY INVITATIONS ON TOP. IF THAT DOESN’T MAKE THEM LIKE ME, NOTHING WILL. YAY ME!!!
XXXOOO,
RENATA RUIZ HAYES
Cupcake Catastrophe
As Renata poured cake mix into the cupcake papers, Christy licked the beaters clean. No point letting all that mix go to waste.
“Aren’t we supposed to use a special cupcake pan?” Renata asked.
“I don’t think so,” Christy said. “As long as you pour the batter in those paper things, it’ll be fine.”
“Grandma always used a muffin tin.”
“Ah, well, to each her own. I prefer to set my cupcake papers on a flat cookie sheet.”
Renata stuck the cupcakes in the oven while Christy put the ingredients together for vanilla frosting. Then she let Renata mix it all up.
“Stop for just a second,” Christy said. She poured in a few drops of yellow and blue food coloring. Then Renata stirred until the colors blended. “The perfect shade of green for frosting.”
Renata flipped the oven light on to check the cupcakes. “Oh no,” she said. “Look.”
Christy glanced in the oven and saw the cupcakes had flattened into pancakes. Just as Renata had feared, the papers weren’t strong enough to maintain their proper shape without a muffin pan. Everything had run together to make one big cake with a lot of papers stuck underneath. Christy started to laugh. “Have you ever met a worse cook than me? Next time, remind me to listen to you.”
The phone rang, and Christy picked up. It was Brownie calling about the seating chart for tomorrow’s luncheon. “Well, there’s a problem, Brownie. Your assistant told me that only half the women RSVP’d.” Christy prayed they weren’t boycotting her lunch for some unintentional social crime she had committed.
“And you didn’t think to call the ones who didn’t respond to see if they were coming?” Brownie said.
“Well, I called to ask you if I could call them, since I’m not allowed to contact people without your permission, and you didn’t call me back.”
“I did call you back. That incompetent maid of yours didn’t give you the message.”
“Right. Well, even if I knew who was coming, don’t you
