Totlandia: The Onesies, Book 1 (Fall) (6 page)

“Brilliant!” Bettina exclaimed. “Just like that
 
Survivor
 
show, but the prize is so much greater.”

Taken aback at the compliment, Mallory blushed. It was the first time any of the others had seen her face flushed with anything other than anger.

“We’ll call it a probationary period,” Bettina continued, warming up. “The applicants will be judged on their social connections, their personal grace under pressure while hosting an event, and of course, their toddlers’ sociability. Then, at the end of the first ninety days, we’ll vote someone off. At the end of the next ninety days, another applicant bites the dust. The last four standing are the victors. And once again, we’ve got a perfect Onesies Group.” She clapped her hands with delight. “I’ll get out the invitations first thing tomorrow.”

CONGRATU
L
ATIONS!

You are now a member of the
Pacific Heights
Moms & Tots Club!*

Your Inaugural Play Date takes place on Monday, September
10
, 10am at

The James Leary Flood Mansion, 2222 Broadway, in Pacific Heights (of course!)

RSVP Bettina Connaught Cross at
[email protected]

*Pending the successful completion of your probationary period. Details to follow.

“—got it! It arrived yesterday in the mail.” The stiff wind took Clarisse Tanner’s nonchalant words and carelessly tossed them over her shoulder at her jogging partner, Jillian Frederick.

Every day, come rain or shine, Jillian laced up her sneakers and jogged out of her house on Pacific Street and around the corner to Baker Street, then down to Lombard and beyond Chestnut Street in the Marina district and on to Crissy Field with her one-year-old twin daughters, Amelia and Addison, in tow. On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, Clarisse joined her, strolling her two-year-old son, Travis.

Invariably, by the time they reached the midpoint of their jog—Fort Point, under the Golden Gate Bridge—Clarisse was huffing and puffing. “I don’t know how you do this seven days a week,” she groaned. “Three days a week is more than enough torture!”

Jillian’s grimace gave Clarisse the false impression that she agreed with her. In fact, Jillian loved running.

It was the best way to run away from her fears.

By now her life should have been perfect. She had quit college in order to work as a waitress in order to support Scott, her husband, as he finished his undergraduate and master’s degrees in finance. After he’d finally gotten a job as an associate in one of the largest financial management firms in San Francisco, her role in their marriage took on one she enjoyed: moving them from their tiny studio in the basement of an ancient Victorian walk-up in San Francisco’s North Beach, to a roomy (albeit even shabbier) townhouse she’d found for them on one of the most desirable streets in Pacific Heights. With its view of San Francisco Bay, and the fact that it backed up to the wooded and wondrous Presidio National Park, the house was a dream come true. Granted, its rock bottom price reflected its condition. The townhouse needed a new everything: foundation, wiring, and plumbing.

“I can’t take on a project like this,” Scott had warned her. “I’m working twelve hour days, and I’d rather be golfing on the weekends.”

“I hear you loud and clear. I promise, come weekends, we’ll both be on the links. And just think, from here, we’re mere minutes from the Presidio golf course.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him. “The asking price is much less than we bargained for. I’ll use the balance for the renovations and supervise the work myself. I can do that, now that I’m not working. And on the weekends, we’ll both work on our handicaps.”

Reluctantly, he agreed.

Long, exhausting days were the norm for both of them. The house’s transformation became a five-year labor of love for her. She turned it into a showcase with elegant mouldings, arched doorways, and large picture windows that allowed its breathtaking views to be admired from every room.

As for golfing, on most weekends, while she managed whatever workmen and handymen were lurking about, Scott made it out to the course without her.

In time, Jillian gave up golf altogether and took up jogging. It was less time-consuming, and the positive effects on her body were much more gratifying.

When Scott finally made partner in the firm, he was just as reluctant when she told him about her next project—having a baby.

“A kid? Aw, hon, I don’t know.” His smile was wary, tired. “When will I ever see the little bugger?”

She was so surprised at that question she laughed out loud. “When you get home, silly! And you’ll have weekends, too, to play with our child. You’ll just have to give up golf.” It was a joke, of course.

Apparently he didn’t think so. “But I like golf.”

“Good. You can teach it to your son.” Her determined smile never wavered.

In anticipation, he bought a full set of toddler-sized U.S. Golf Kids golf clubs, which he placed in the nursery beside the window.

That she was carrying twins wasn’t as disappointing to him as the fact that both the babies were girls. “I guess this means our shot at a boy goes out the window.” He sighed.

“Next go-round, right?” She meant that in all sincerity.

“What, are you crazy? Two is more than enough. Besides, there are no guarantees it’ll be a boy.”

She never had the nerve to ask him why he’d taken the toddler clubs out of the nursery and what he had done with them.

If she thought he’d give up his weekend rounds of golf after the girls were born, she was sorely mistaken. While he golfed, she jogged with the girls in tow. Rolling their Bugaboo Donkey Duo stroller up Divisadero gave her biceps other women admired, not to mention an ass that turned men’s heads.

But the only man whose head she ever wanted to turn was Scott’s.

Unfortunately, these days he was too busy to notice.

Jillian had no doubt that Clarisse had timed her dire announcement about the Pacific Heights Moms & Tots Club to take place here at the base of Fort Point so they’d at least be near a bench, should Jillian want to sit and talk about it.

Appropriately enough, it was also a convenient place for jumpers who wanted to end it all.

Jillian wasn’t that upset, but yes, talking it out might keep the tears at bay until she got the twins home in time for lunch and their baths. “How do you know the invitations went out already?”

“A big-mouthed birdie told me. I ran into Sally Dunder, the Twosies’ group mom, inside Whole Foods. She says it was such a close call that they’re trying something different this year, whatever that means. It will be announced at next Monday’s meet-up, when the Onesies group is introduced to the rest of us.” She tightened little Travis’s hat. Already, she’d lost his pacifier to the brisk winds. “Bottom line: those who got in should have received their invitations by yesterday. Of course, the brunt of the applicants were long shots anyway.”

“What does that mean?”

“Between you and me, they look down their noses at working moms as well as single moms. And while no one will just come out and say it, I’m guessing they’re not too fond of anyone who isn’t at least a size four, either.”

“I’m married, and I’m a stay at home mom. And I’m in shape—”

“‘In shape?’ Sweetie, with all the jogging you do, I’d say you’re more like a
 
minus
 
two! My guess is you have a hard time keeping the weight
 
on
.”

Jillian shrugged. Yes, she was overdoing it. But she liked being lean.

And Scott liked her slim.

These days, though, she couldn’t tell if he liked her at all.

She couldn’t think about that now. The last person she’d ever tell there was trouble in paradise was Clarisse, who knew everyone’s business.

That’s why she’s the perfect person to ask why I wasn’t chosen for PHM&T’s Onsies group
, Jillian thought. “What do you think they had against me?”

“Got me.” Clarisse sighed. “Scott is well-placed. But they try for an even number of boys and girls. Maybe the fact that you have twins blew your chances.”

Jillian shook her head angrily. “Well, I’m not going to leave one on someone else’s doorstep just to get into the darn club! I guess I could have faked having just one daughter and brought a different one to every other play date—you know, like
 
The Parent Trap
.”

Clarisse snorted at the thought, but the pitying look in her eyes was all Jillian needed to know that her friend felt sorry for her.

“Got to go! Someone’s coming by this afternoon to give a bid on refinishing the deck.” It was a lie, but Jillian couldn’t stand sitting there any longer. She jumped up from the bench and stretched, then trotted off, stroller in hand.

She could hear Clarisse panting to catch up, but she refused to slow down for her.

Clarisse certainly wasn’t waiting for her either, so why bother?

11:33 a.m.

Jillian couldn’t remember a time Scott had been home mid-morning on a Friday since he’d started at Colby & Trask, not even when he was sick with a cold.

In truth, he was barely home at all anymore.

He must have heard the front door open, not to mention the click of the stroller’s wheels as she rolled it over the granite floor of the entry foyer, and yet he didn’t bother turning around.

Instead, he stared out the big picture window, at the bay out beyond the Palace of Fine Arts.

The run up the hill was like a sleeping tonic for Addison and Amelia, so she left them in the stroller but whispered, “Honey, what’s wrong? You don’t have a fever, do you? The girls couldn’t have given you something, because neither is sniffling—”

When he turned around, she realized it had been too long since she’d truly looked at his face. The grooves in his forehead were deeper than she’d ever remembered. The hair beside his temples was completely gray.

And his eyes were red and damp. He sighed heavily. “I want a divorce.”

If she hadn’t still been holding onto the stroller, she would have collapsed to the floor.

“What? Why?” She looked down at the girls in a useless attempt to collect her thoughts. All she could think about was how she should take them out of their tiny jackets before they got too overheated, and then go through the motion of preparing their lunch—

Anything but listen to Scott explain why he wanted to destroy the life they’d built together.

“I’m sorry, Jillian. But the truth is that I’m in love with someone else.” He refused to look her in the eye, but he guessed her next question. “It’s Victoria.”

His assistant.

Ah, now it all made sense.

It was always Victoria who stayed late with him at the office. And it was Victoria whose calls he took at all hours of the evening, with the excuse that “the China deal has a few details that we’ve yet to pin down…” or “It’s a conference call with Singapore. The investor has questions on the prospectus.”

Lies, lies, lies.

“She’s pregnant, Jillian.”

“Pregnant?” Jillian couldn’t believe her ears. She had to ask, “Boy, or girl?”

“It’s—a boy. Not that it matters.”

“You’re lying.”

He flinched but didn’t deny it. Instead, he rubbed salt in her wound, the worst way possible. “I love her, Jillian. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you if I stayed with you–”

“
Fair?
 
Don’t talk to me about fair! I gave up college and waited tables for you!”

So he couldn’t see her cry, Jillian looked down into the stroller. Amelia was fussing in her sleep. Jillian knew she should pick her up, peel her out of her coat, and stroke her back to calm her down—

But no. She’d wait until after he left. Then she’d grab both girls and run with them up the staircase.

He didn’t deserve to see them ever again.

He didn’t deserve them at all.

Not that he’d care. Now that he was getting the boy he’d always wanted, he wouldn’t ever make time to see them anyway.

But he’d make time for his son.

Just like he had made time for Victoria.

“Enjoy the view. It’s the last time you’ll see it. I’m keeping the house.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. And with what you’ll be getting as alimony once the lawyers get involved, I guess I’ll be paying for it, too.”

“You better believe it. Not to mention the property taxes. That’s what I call ‘fair.’” She was proud that she was able to keep her voice steady.

As he walked passed her, he murmured in her ear, “Then I guess we both got what we wanted.”

No! she wanted to scream. I wanted you. I wanted us. I wanted this.

And all these years, I thought you wanted it, too.