“I’ll bet you Missy is over there convincing Antoinette to join the ASC so she’ll vote for Missy.”
“No one’s voting for Missy.” Caroline says this as if it is beyond contestation.
Gina appreciates the sentiment, but Caroline could be wrong. She isn’t an ASC member—by choice. It’s one of the reasons why their friendship had been deemed an unlikely one from the start: Gina and Caroline are complete opposites. Gina is a homemaker: a devoted wife and helicopter parent. Caroline is a Harvard-educated lawyer who works for a big Manhattan firm. She loves her two girls, but she doesn’t think of herself as a mother first—she’s said as much to Gina. The only reason she lives in Alma is because she married Doug, a native Almanac, and he convinced her it would be best to raise their kids in a place where they could safely ride their bikes and have a backyard.
Caroline doesn’t complain about living in Alma, but she is out of her milieu. It’s no secret Caroline feels like the town suffers from an Alma Boots monomania that is perpetuated by the ASC. Still, she’s an asset to the town. Caroline has helped Gina with quite a few legal battles involving zoning laws and developmental companies that had wanted to open a mall in town. It was during one of these litigious meetings that they had become unlikely—yet inseparable—friends.
“I just feel like everything I am is tied to Bobby and now that we’re…” Gina lets her voice trail off. She can’t say separated. She can’t even say apart. There’s no word for what they are, and even if there was, Gina wouldn’t want to use it. She prefers her situation to remain nameless. Nameless things aren’t real. “I’m scared. What if I’m nothing without him?”
“What’s this nonsense?” Caroline leans in and places an arm around Gina. “You’re so much more than Bobby’s wife. You’re Calan’s mother. You’re my best friend. You’re the best chef I know—I keep telling you to open up a restaurant. Not to mention that you run this town. You’ll obviously be the ASC’s next president.”
“Even if I’m not a Dewar?” Gina asks. She glances in Antoinette’s direction. Missy is still beside her, talking up a storm.
“Is that something you’re considering?” Caroline asks. Again: her tone is gentle. It’s more than a little disturbing.
“It’s not something I want,” Gina says. “But neither is this.” She makes circles with her hands in the air. “Everything’s different. I almost feel… uncomfortable here. Like, I should be checking on things, but instead I asked Holly because I know that whomever I approach will want to talk to me about the stupid scandal.” Gina pauses. “I really hate that word. Scandal. I want my old life back.”
A stretch of silence.
“Is it all in my head?” Gina asks. She’s both terrified and hopeful that it is. “Or do you feel it, too? The town is different, isn’t it?”
“I think it’s more that you’re different,” Caroline says. “I don’t often come to these things, but when I do, you’re always, you know, running around dealing with everything. Telling people what to do and how to do it.”
“You’re making me sound so bossy.”
“No, I’m making you sound like a leader. You’ve been gender-trained to think that means bossy.”
Gender training. Caroline has been fond of the term for some time now. Alice drops it on occasion, too. Gina doesn’t get it. Men and women are inherently different—not better or worse, just different. Wouldn’t life be simpler if people accepted this? But Gina doesn’t point this out now, just as she hadn’t when Alice last used the term. Come to think of it, the two have a lot in common, Alice and Caroline. The only difference really is that Caroline is happy to live in Alma. Maybe Gina should have them over for lunch. Maybe Caroline’s overall positive outlook on the town will rub off on Alice.
“But that’s understandable,” Caroline continues. “You’ve been through a lot. You’ve been dragged into a—” Caroline pauses. “Sorry, scandal really is the best word for it.”
A sad smile from Gina.
“So you’re keeping a low profile. That’s OK. You don’t have to be a social butterfly. And you’re a little wary of journalists. No one can blame you for that. Not after that god-awful tabloid.”
“Don’t remind me.” If Gina had to pick the worst moment of the past weeks, it would be seeing her picture on that odious TMZ website—a very unflattering picture at that. The short piece had been ridiculously titled—Alma Boots CEO Gets the Boot… From his Wife—but it had been enough to turn Gina into a hashtag. #DearMrsDewar had trended on Twitter for almost a full week.
Gina does not enjoy being a hashtag.
“I just wish this would go away,” Gina says. And then she eyes Missy, who is gesticulating wildly, her mouth moving faster than an electric mixer. “At least then I wouldn’t be so terrified of talking to Antoinette. And she wouldn’t be standing there falling for Missy’s charms.”
“I mean, I could offer my services as a hitwoman.” Caroline elbows Gina playfully.
Gina takes a breath. “Actually, I was thinking more of your services as a lawyer.”
“Oh?” Caroline eyes Gina curiously. “Are we taking legal action against someone?”
Gina feels her heart warm at that word—we. People associate it with royalty, but, really, it’s the pronoun of best friends.
“That depends,” Gina says. “Would we be able to sue Eva Stone?”
Thirty-Five
Calan
Thursday, October 17th
Calan’s eyes skitter nervously across the gazebo. There are thirty-four chairs neatly lined up inside the domed space, all of them occupied by giggling, blushing high school girls—and Malaika. Calan is on stage, standing in line. Bids are being offered on Trevor Dawson. Calan’s name will get called next, at which point he will stand in the middle of the stage while Mrs. McCarthy recites the items inside his picnic basket.
After that, Malaika will bid on him. That’s their plan.
It had been Malaika’s idea, right after he told her about the auction.
