Not My Daughter (29 page)

"You
were pregnant?" He glanced at Pam. "Did you know this?"

Stunned, she could only shake her head.

"No one knew, Dad. I didn't even tell Lily, Mary Kate, and Jess, that's how lousy a friend I was. I just said it would be totally awesome if we all had babies together, and they bought it. Only they got pregnant, and then I miscarried--"

"When? Did you know about this, Pam? What doctor didn't tell us?"

"No doctor,"
Abby cried. "I tested positive for six weeks, then had this really heavy disgusting period, and the tests after that showed negative."

Pam knew about disgusting periods. She remembered a pain that went beyond the physical, felt it even now.

But Abby was hurrying on. "I tried again and
kept
trying, but I'm not pregnant.
Something's wrong with me
."

Tanner looked bewildered. "You kept trying? This doesn't make sense."

"Not to you! You don't have to worry about friends. I do!"

"You do not. You're a Perry."

"Like that guarantees happiness?" the girl asked, pushing back from the table and rising to her full Perry height. "Like it guarantees I'll grow old with three friends I love? Like it guarantees I'll
ever
be able to have a baby? You don't understand. These things matter!" She ran from the room.

Tanner stared after her before turning to Pam. He looked dazed. "I don't understand. I asked you to talk with her."

Pam stood with her arms circling her middle. She was torn apart inside, hearing
something's wrong with me
and wanting to go to Abby, but needing to pacify Tanner first. "I asked. She denied. What more could I do?"

"You should have known."

Pam was slow in answering. She kept hearing Tanner tell Abby that she was a Perry, but now Pam wondered who
she
was. Arguably, she had more in common with Susan, Sunny, and Kate than with her husband's family. When she was at the barn, she wasn't just a Perry. She was someone who contributed.

These friends made her a better person. She wondered if that was the appeal.

If so, she had let them down. "They have every right to hate me."

"Who?"

"Susan, Sunny, and Kate. They knew Abby was involved. But they were too loyal to say anything."

"Loyal, or cowardly?"

"Loyal, Tanner," Pam said, offended. "Loyal to me, loyal to Abby--and now, I need to be there for Susan when she needs help."

He retreated. "Fine. But even if Abby suggested the pact to the others, she didn't hold a gun to their heads."

"But she was
part of it
. If things had gone as planned, the pact would have involved four girls, and the press would be at
our
door. Are we any less guilty than Susan?"

"Susan's the principal of the high school."

"And you're the CEO of Perry and Cass."

"It's different. I'm a man. You're the mother. You should have known."

He was wrong. She didn't often think it. But right now he was dead wrong, a Perry through and through.

She was not. Suddenly that didn't seem so bad.

"I should have known?" she asked softly. "Like Susan should have known what Lily was planning? It doesn't work that way."

"Abby's a good girl."

"So are Lily, Mary Kate, and Jess. And Susan is the best mother I know."

"She's still the principal."

"And you're still a Perry," Pam said, irritated. "That means more responsibility, and right now it means helping someone who's being made to pay for the ... the
priggishness
of this town."

Tanner was silent, then curious. "Do you really think that?"

"I do," she said, realizing it was true. "Susan's being scapegoated. And that's wrong. You have to put your support behind her."

"I can't."

"Why not? Because Perrys don't get dirty? Is it all about appearance? What about going out on a limb for a friend when you know it's the
right thing to do?"
His silence goaded her on. "Think about it, Tanner. There but for the grace of God go I. Don't you find that humbling?" She certainly did.

Tanner had risen. He rubbed the back of his neck, then said, "I can't announce to the world that my daughter caused this fiasco. It's bad enough that I know it."

Pam nodded angrily. "It's not the first time a Perry's been knocked up." He winced at the phrase, but she didn't care. "You ought to be grateful. In Abby's case, the problem solved itself, so we're in the clear. Your job's not on the line. But Susan's is. You need to help."

He shook his head. "Not my place."

Pam disagreed. "It is
totally
your place. If this isn't a case that cries out for responsibility, I don't know what is. If not for this, what
do
you stand for?" she cried in dismay and went upstairs to Abby.

Abby was tall, but her room was much taller, making her seem small and vulnerable as she sat cross-legged on the window seat. Her eyes were wet with tears.

Settling beside her, Pam took her hand. "Talk to me, Abby."

"I'm a terrible person."

"Me, too. So talk to me."

Abby must have been brimming with a need for catharsis, because the words came in a rush. "I didn't plan to get pregnant, I swear I didn't. I knew it would be the worst thing for a Perry, because they
do
expect more from us, and you'd both have
hated
me for it. I thought about getting an abortion, but I didn't know where to start looking, and I realized that
if that
got out, it'd be even
worse
. So then I thought it wouldn't be so bad if there was a good reason I was pregnant. So I suggested the pact to the others, and they bought it, and for a little while, it was really neat. I mean, I could be a good mother. I would
love
to focus on a baby. But this has been so bad, Mom. Look at what's happening to Susan. And to Lily's baby? Who'd have imagined that? If I could do it over again, I wouldn't have suggested a pact--and I would never have outed my friends. But now the joke's on me. What if I never have a baby?"

Pam said the only things she could. "I had you, didn't I?" Then, "You'll have your baby." Then, "Maybe this just isn't the right time."

"But I wanted to do it with them."

"That is not a reason to have a child at this age. For now, you can give them support."

"Will you?"

"Yes." Pam hadn't thought it through, but it wasn't rocket science. Tanner could do what he wanted, but so could she. "I'll lobby for Susan. I'll get everyone who loves her to the meeting. You could do the same with the kids. Have them talk to their parents."

"Like my word matters? Everyone knows we're on the outs."

"Tell them Susan's the best principal they've ever had. Tell them they need to keep it that way." Pam paused, heart aching. Knowing of Abby's involvement, she felt more responsible. "You could also tell Lily you're rooting for her baby."

"She wouldn't listen," Abby murmured, pulling up her knees. She still looked miserable, but at least she wasn't crying. "They hate me now."

Pam thought of Susan, Sunny, and Kate. "They probably hate me, too."

"I loved being with them."

"Me, too." The need to belong--the basis of pact behavior--was wrong in this case, but Pam understood its power.

"Why don't we fit in?" Abby asked.

"Maybe because we haven't been ... relevant," said Pam. "We have to make ourselves relevant." She had an idea. "Like with knitting. I'll pull strings to get an awesome catalogue promotion, and if your uncle Cliff balks, I'll threaten to shut down PC Wool."

Abby looked up. "You wouldn't shut it down."

"Not, but I'd threaten to if he doesn't give me the space I want, and we both know how profitable PC Wool is. So," Pam said, "we have to make sure we have enough finished samples. Kate will tell me what's already done, but you and I can knit more. Susan suggested I make a shawl. I can do that. You can knit gloves. Gloves are very in."

"I can't knit gloves. I've never knitted gloves."

"You've done socks."

"No one sees mistakes in socks. They see every last one in gloves."

"Then you'll have to make sure there are none." Pam had another idea. "Cashmere," she breathed reverently. "The woman we visited was good, and she has stock. What if Kate could dye up a batch really fast? Would you do a pair of gloves then?"

Abby looked tempted. "Cashmere? I could try."

"Trying isn't good enough. We both have to
do
it. We could make a pact, the two of us. No more trying. Just doing. What do you think?"

Chapter 26

Pam had always considered Tanner a leader, but now wondered if his leadership skills were limited to Perry & Cass. She knew he liked Susan, but he was avoiding helping her. Disillusioned, Pam refused to discuss it further, which meant that they weren't talking, which meant she had more energy to talk with friends.

Defiant? Oh, yes. For the first time in her married life, she was bucking the tide. That made success very important to her.

She set herself to the task first thing Thursday morning, and it was an awakening. Everyone she called thought Susan was a good principal, but the editorial in the
Gazette
had many on the defensive.
I talk with my kids. I watch them. I know what they're doing
. The implication was that Susan did not, and that to side with her was to side with a bad mother.

So Pam fine-tuned her approach, and, in doing so, discovered her own strength. Lady of leisure that some accused her of being, she often had coffee or lunch with other parents and therefore knew them better than, say, Kate or Sunny might. This allowed her to make her calls more pointed.

Okay, Lisa, remember the rough patch you went through with Trevor? You thought he was on drugs. He kept denying it, but you weren't sure you believed
him. He got through it, but in hindsight, what do you think? Was he experimenting? You asked all the right questions. And so did Susan. Is she any different a mom from any of us?

Hey, Debbie, you have a daughter. She didn't want to look like a nerd, so she refused to study. Who talked her through it? Don't you owe Susan something for that?

Zaganackians were complacent. It was up to her to rile them up.

Kate didn't have a business degree, but she did have common sense. Since PC Wool was her livelihood, she kept a list of her customers. She had never used it for anything personal before, and did feel a moment's qualm. She was, after all, one of the town's bad moms.

But was she any worse than others whose kids hadn't always followed the rules? Was her daughter any less good a person because the rule she broke had created a life? Who would be affected by it, beyond Mary Kate and her family? No Mello was asking for handouts. They would take care of their own.

Resentful of those who would judge, Kate worked up a head of steam, then e-mailed every Zaganackian who had ever placed an order for PC Wool. She worded it like a party invitation.
Knitters love knitters. Come support our own Susan Tate by rallying around her at the high school auditorium on Wednesday evening. It starts at 7. See you then
.

There was nothing subtle about the message. She guessed that if her bosses at Perry & Cass knew she was using the list, they would not be happy. But she wasn't happy with Tanner Perry.

Besides, would he ever know? She seriously doubted it. His nose was stuck up too high for him to see what the town wanted. Even Pam was defying him now. That alone was reason for Kate to join in.

------

Left to her own devices, Sunny might have stayed under the radar. Her own daughter was pregnant, and while she and Jessica were on the same page now, the girl's condition wasn't something Sunny wanted to flaunt.

Then she got Kate's e-mail and, soon after, a customer mentioned talking with Pam. If Kate could speak up, so could she. And Pam? Pam embodied Respectability with a capital
R
.

Increasingly the idea of standing up for Susan held merit. Wasn't it one step removed from standing up for herself? She had stood up to her mother with amazing success. No one had ever said respectability required invisibility.

So she began talking with customers who either knew Susan or had kids in the schools.
You're a mother, just like Susan. Have your children never disobeyed you? Does that make you less good a mother?
And then, even more shamelessly,
You'll want to be supportive. This is a rough time for Susan. You know about the baby, don't you?

The more she talked, the bolder she grew--because people were actually listening. Rather than being a liability, her own daughter's pregnancy seemed to give her legitimacy.
I know what I'm talking about
was the message.

It was definitely Empowering.

Susan wasn't as plucky. She was worried about Lily, worried about the baby, worried about her job. As grateful, even touched, as she was when she learned what Pam, Kate, and Sunny were doing, she was still frustrated. She had always been her own best champion. Now she was in an awkward position.

She decided that an e-mail to the parents was the way to go. But begging them to sing her praises wasn't her usual style.

"Maybe it should be," Rick said that evening. "If you don't toot your own horn, who will?"

"My friends. Lily's friends. They're all into it. An e-mail from me is something else, not to mention that I can just hear the guys on the school board. 'She's using her position to coerce parents to support her. They'll show up out of fear that if they don't, she'll take it out on their kids.' I'd be using my position to help myself."

"It's done all the time."

"Not by me."

"Then let's pick words you can live with," he suggested, and together they drafted a message alerting parents to the upcoming meeting:
My earlier e-mail has kept you abreast of what we're doing in school to help our students deal with the current crisis. In light of the recent media coverage, the school board has decided to hold an open meeting to give you a chance to weigh in on the debate. If you'd like to give us an update on how your child is doing and tell us if you're satisfied with the steps we've taken, please plan to attend
.

She gave date, time, and place, and sent it out Thursday night, knowing that she was taking a risk. If her guess was wrong and the letters in the
Gazette
were representative of town sentiment, she was toast.

Susan hadn't run the e-mail past Phil. When he showed up at her office Friday morning looking like he'd lost his best friend, she wondered if that had been a tactical error. He sank into a chair, his legs sprawled. For a split second, she feared he had lost
his
job.

She wasn't far off. "You have to help me here, Susan," he began, sounding as weary as he looked. "I'm under pressure. The school board wants you out."

"The
whole
board?" Susan asked in alarm. Surely not Pam. Or Hillary, or Henry.

"No. But a majority. You know the ones."

"Before
next week's meeting?"

"They don't want that meeting. They don't believe the parents should decide. They think what happens in our schools should be determined by the people in charge."

Susan was incensed. "Like George Abbott and the
Gazette
? Like those anonymous citizens whose letters he printed?"

"I understand why you're bitter. You haven't gotten a fair shake. I do believe you've done a great job."

"Tell them that, Phil. Fight for me."

He sighed defeatedly. "Neal Lombard called. Your e-mail didn't go over well. One of the parents told Evan, who told Neal, who told Tom, Duncan, and Carl. That's four of them who want you fired, and they want me to do it. If I say no, that's four of them who'll vote to fire
me
. I'm fifty-eight, Susan. I can't start looking for a new job now. So I can fire you, and you can sue me for wrongful dismissal, in which case my career's hurt anyway. Or you can resign."

"Because my daughter is pregnant," Susan said in disbelief. "If those men found my e-mail threatening, they must be afraid of the crowds it'll draw."

He sighed again. "It doesn't matter. I just need you to resign."

She actually felt for him. A friend, he had given her career a major boost. But weren't they
both
being railroaded? "I can't, Phil."

"Sure you can," he coaxed. "You're young. There are lots of com munities looking for a good high school principal. You'll find another job."

"That's not the issue." She was thinking of Lily now.
It's my future, Mom. You're paving the way
. "I can't resign. Not before that meeting. If it turns out the parents disapprove of me and the job I've done, you'll have my resignation by the end of the evening. That's the best I can do."

It wasn't good enough for those school board members whose bluff she had called. They didn't fire Phil; not yet. They simply went to Plan B, which entailed moving the open board meeting from Wednesday to Thursday.

Pam was furious. Having declared her allegiance to Susan, she argued forcefully with the board in a conference call Friday afternoon.

"Thursday night is impossible," she said. "Susan will be in Boston for Lily's surgery."

"Ms. Tate doesn't have to be there," one of the men said.

"Of course she does. This is a referendum on her."

"Let her change her plans."

"Would you have her postpone critical surgery--you all, who are obsessed with her being a good mother? Why not hold the meeting the week after next?"

"It has to be next week. We've waited too long. Unless you want Correlli fired first."

Pam did not. Once they fired Phil, they would fire Susan, and if Neal Lombard had his way, they would elevate Evan Brewer. Even with Hillary and Harold on Pam's side, the opposition would win.

"Hillary, this is blackmail," she complained.

"Yes," Hillary said. "Threats are counterproductive, Mr. Morgan. What about holding the meeting Tuesday night?"

Pam could live with that. She could get a phone tree telling people of the change.

"Bad night," said Tom Zimmerman. "Rotary Club meeting."

"Thursday is worse," Pam argued. "Perry and Cass is holding its biannual staff meeting, which means half of our parents will be
there
. Besides, they're using the auditorium."

"Why can't we hold our meeting where we usually do?" Tom asked.

"In Town Hall? That's
way
too small."

"We've held open meetings there before."

"This one involves too many people. There has to be a better place." But the middle schools didn't have their own auditoriums, the elementary schools only had gymnasiums, and the churches were all small and tight.

"We could use the Perry and Cass warehouse," Duncan Haith said with a dry chuckle.

Pam ignored him. "Tell you what. I'll agree to Town Hall as long as we have mikes and speakers in every room there. That's the kind of crowd that'll come out for Susan Tate."

"Isn't
that
a threat?" asked Neal Lombard.

"No, sir," Pam replied. "It's a promise. You all are playing a game that isn't in the best interest of our kids. I have a child in the school. Same with most of the parents who'll be at this meeting. Either you give them a say now, or they'll have theirs when your terms expire next year."

Susan barely winced when Pam called to tell her the meeting would be held Thursday night. It was just one more blow. And there was nothing to consider.

"Lily has to be at the hospital at six Friday morning, and she needs to sleep Thursday night. That means checking into the hotel by nine, so I'll miss the meeting. You'll have to represent me, Pam."

As she hung up the phone, the last shred of her complacency dissolved. She had to notify parents of the change, and she was angry enough to be blunt.
Important correction
, she wrote in the subject line of her e-mail, and in the body,
Next week's open meeting of the school board will be held on Thursday at Town Hall. I will not be there, but will be in Boston for my daughter's surgery. For those of you who don't know, Lily's baby has a congenital problem that has to be repaired if the child is to live. Since I'm unable to attend this crucial meeting, I'm counting on you all to be there in my place
.

Given a unifying cause, Susan, Kate, Sunny, and Pam were all at the barn on Saturday morning. If dissension lingered, it was hard to spot. Not that there was loud laughter, as there used to be in Susan's garage. Their purpose wasn't funny at all.

They plotted ways to notify nonparents about the upcoming meeting. They created a theme for the PC Wool promotion. They talked about Lily's surgery, Mary Kate's heartburn, and the baby girl Jessica had just learned she was having. They talked about Abby. By then, they were knitting.

Lily was knitting as well. She had slept late and, with Susan at the barn, had gone out for breakfast with Rick. They ran errands on the way home--town dump, drugstore, supermarket--and made a brief stop at the pier, but the January wind off the water was cold. Leaving the seagulls to guard the boats, they returned home and settled down in front of a fire in the den.

When there was a knock at the door, Lily put down her knitting. Most people rang the bell. Only friends knocked.

Robbie stood there. Having run across the street without a coat, he slipped quickly inside. "Hey," he said with a smile. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm good."

"I like your shirt." It was a form-fitting knit from the Portland cache. "You don't look very pregnant."