Page 5 of The Night the Lights Went Out
“Yes. And if you could turn it back in tomorrow, that would be terrific. I’ll have Claire put it all in a spreadsheet and I’ll e-mail it to all the mothers. Please write neatly—Claire has a way of butchering your name if she can’t read it.”
“Claire?”
“My personal assistant. She’s only part-time, but I would simplydieof exhaustion without her.”
The ladies behind her all nodded in understanding.
“Yes, well, I’ll take a look at it and get it back to you tomorrow.” Merilee was already wondering how she was going to approach her boss to ask him for more time off. The divorce and move had already eaten up most of her vacation time, and although Max was kind and understanding, everyone had their limits.
“And don’t forget the ‘I survived my first week of fourth grade’ party at my lake house this Saturday. I’ll be handing out disposable cameras to all the moms and dads to take pictures throughout the year at our various events—I like to do little photo albums for all the kids and the teachers at the end of the year.” She beamed, like it was just a small thing. “Oh, and I took the liberty of signing you up for a dessert because we’re overrun with vegetables and dip and pimento cheese. I figured you’d know how to make something sweet.”
“Oh...” Merilee simply blinked her eyes for a moment, wondering whether Heather had meant to be insulting by implying Merilee’s lack of a perfect figure meant she ate a lot of sweets.
“Because you’re from south Georgia. You mentioned that when we met. You said I had the same accent as your mother.”
Feeing oddly relieved, Merilee said, “Yes, of course. Where did you say you were from?”
“Here and there—but mostly Georgia. I can always tell a native Georgian. Hard to hide it, isn’t it? It’s almost like no matter how far you go in life, all you have to do is open your mouth and somebody knows exactly where you’re from.”
There was something in the way Heather said it that made Merilee pause. “Yes, well, I’ll call my mother today and ask her what she might recommend.”
“Wonderful.” Heather beamed. She pointed a key fob toward a black Porsche SUV with vanity plates that readYERSERV, and the rear door slowly raised. As the other mothers oohed and aahed appropriately, Merilee stared into the trunk, where fourteen metallic gift bags with blue or pink tissue paper expertly pleated at the top were arranged in neat rows.
Heather moved toward the car. “A little lagniappe—that’s Cajun for ‘a little extra’ for all my Yankee friends—for the first day of school. My treat. I thought we could each give our children a bag at pickup today and then head over to Scoops for ice cream afterward. I’ve already reserved the party room at the back of the store. Claire is picking up the helium balloons this morning and will have it all decorated in Windwood colors.”
“You are just too much,” one of the mothers said as the other women eagerly stepped toward the car and took a bag.
There was something in the tone of voice that made Merilee glance over at the woman who’d spoken. She wore a floral dress, not particularly stylish or flattering, along with pantyhose and pumps, and was, Merilee noticed, the only other mother besides herself who wasn’t dressed in tennis garb. And, like Merilee, was the only other mother not smiling. The woman caught her gaze and raised her eyebrows before grabbing two pink bags and bringing one back to Merilee.
“I’m Lindi Matthews, Jenna’s mom.” Merilee took the outstretched hand and shook it, amazed at the strength of the grip considering how very thin Lindi was. She looked like a runner, very long and lean, with no fat in her cheeks or neck. When Merilee had suggested to Michael that she start running to lose the weight that had crept up on her since giving birth to their two children, he had said he didn’t like the idea, that he didn’t want her to look all chicken necked. Apparently, he didn’t like her looking slightly plump, either.
Lindi smiled, and Merilee thought she was pretty in a natural, no-makeup way, a distinct contrast to the other mothers, who appeared to be wearing full makeup to play tennis. Assuming they actually participated in the sport and didn’t just wear the cute skirts—like yoga pants, which weren’t actually an indicator of whether you practiced yoga. “I didn’t get to meet you at the open house because I had to leave early for a work thing. I take it you’re new,” Lindi said.
“New to Windwood Academy, but we’ve lived in Sweet Apple for six years. We’ve been at the public school since the beginning, but my in-laws thought the kids needed a change.”
Lindi regarded her with light brown eyes. “Your in-laws?”
“I’m recently divorced, and, well, it got uncomfortable at their school because of certain... people, and my in-laws thought it best we move the children. They’re paying for it, so I couldn’t argue. Besides, they’re in Dallas and this is the only way they could probably think of to help me out long-distance. They’re on my side, if there’s such a thing.”
“Wow. Well, that’s a story for after we know each other better. I have a feeling we have a lot in common.”
Her accent was definitely not Southern, so Merilee guessed at the next obvious thing. “Are you divorced?”
Lindi shook her head. “No. But I don’t play tennis. Or golf. And I work outside the home.” She indicated Merilee’s outfit. “We’re like unicorns here at Windwood.”
It was such a relief to hear somebody put it into words that Merilee laughed out loud, making the other mothers look over at them.
“It’s easy to be intimidated by this crowd, but they’re a good bunch. Just a little... intense. Especially Heather.” Lindi pressed a business card in her hand. “Call me. We should have coffee. I can fill you in on some of the stuff that doesn’t get covered in the new-parent orientation. I’m on the school board, so I’ve got insider information.” She winked. “Seriously, though, call me with any questions you might have. From one unicorn to another.”
Merilee smiled. “Thanks. I will. Actually, I do have a question. I’m looking for a carpool partner. Any idea where I can go to find someone who lives near me? My kids have always taken the school bus, so this is completely new to me.”
“I can probably help you. Where do you live?”
“Near the intersection of Prescott Bend and Prescott Road.”
Lindi tilted her head. “That’s the Prescott farm, isn’t it?”
“Almost. I’m renting the old cottage behind the house.”
