Chapter 4
Meanwhile, Dan and Inge were struggling with a familiar and distressing problem. It was Back-to-School Night and they had no babysitter.
Between chorus and homework and debate club and SAT prep, every teenager they could think of calling was already booked with something. Unfortunately, this was all too typical. Dan and Inge had learned long ago that teenagers were far busier than they were, and hopelessly unavailable. Other parents could sometimes be asked to watch their children-and Dan was in favor of this tonight-but with school the next day, Inge hated to impose. That left only Andrea’s cleaning lady, but she was a grown woman with a family of her own and wouldn’t even get in her car for less than $50.
At their age and station in life, the Gordons thought they should have arrived at the point where a $50 necessity didn’t faze them. But, ridiculous as it seemed, they had not. There were plenty of months when they did care about $50, and this particular month just happened to be one of them. They resented being in this position, and the result was that they were now squabbling.
"It’s reasonable, you know," said Inge, defending the cleaning lady. "I wouldn’t work nights for less than $50. Why should she?"
"I never said it was unreasonable. I just wonder what everyone else does, that’s all."
"I can tell you that. They have nannies who work for them during the day, and the nannies stay late. But I’m our nanny."
"Did you call Meghan?"
This, Inge resented. Meghan was a junior who lived across the street, and the idea that Inge wouldn’t have tried this obvious solution was simply insulting.
"Of course I did," she snapped. "She works at a soup kitchen on Tuesdays."
"Tell her we’re needier," said Dan.
Dan was especially irritable because their failure to find a sitter meant that he would have to stay home. Though Dan understood and enjoyed his children, he lacked his wife’s knack for getting them through what had to be done on a typical weeknight. Already a discouraging disorder was rising around him like a sea, and Inge hadn’t even finished dressing.
Inge wasn’t happy either. She had tried on several sweaters so far and could not find anything that pleased her. Fishing in her drawer for something better, she reflected that she didn’t want to go to Back-to-School Night by herself. She used to love this event, in the days when school was new, but lately she had grown to hate it: the parental pep rally in the gym before they dispersed to their children’s classrooms; the self-congratulatory speeches about the educational program that they had, after all, already paid for; the pedagogical jargon that laced the teachers’ presentations about the ordinary material they’d be covering in the coming year. But, most of all, she hated the gossipy chatter among the parents before things got rolling. It was like a cocktail party, and one that served only to remind her how different she and Dan were from the other, far wealthier guests. There would certainly be no one else in that gymnasium who could fathom balking at $50 for a sitter.
Inge peeled off a black turtleneck that added at least 15 years to her ever-more-middle-aged neck. Doing so, she reflected on the structural source of their problem at Caro. Because the school selected students for their brains instead of their bank accounts, it united families of very disparate means. Then it expected everyone to behave as if they had arrived on a planet where nobody really cared about money, when everybody always had and clearly always would.
She tugged a soft, blue tunic from a hanger. It had a splash of tomato sauce on the front, and she tossed it into the hamper with disgust. As she ran her eyes over her emptying closet, her thoughts returned angrily to Dan. Dan! His preoccupations were different from hers, but they were no less troublesome. Wasn’t it his fault that they couldn’t afford a sitter? Every time she talked about money, he began ranting about "quality"-quality of life, or work, or something. She reflected resentfully on the quality of the evening they were now having. Dan was anti-money, but he was still defined by it. Money wasn’t a lifestyle choice that could be opted out of. It was a fact and you couldn’t get away from it by not having it.
Nothing she put on looked right. Sighing, Inge reached for what she wore all the time: a beige pullover that, however uninteresting, did flatter her. Here was another fact: It was better to wear the same thing every day and look good in it than to introduce variety and look just awful.
She began to calm down. It was time to go. Fortunately, homework was always light on Back-to-School Night. Hoping to ease Dan’s task, and in a bid to restore peace, on her way out the door she liberalized the usual television policy. On the resulting wave of good feeling, she kissed everyone goodbye and stepped out into the night.
The evening was dark and the air was crisp. It had been too warm in the house, that was all.
Inge’s car was parked at the curb. As she slammed the door and started the motor, she began to redirect her thoughts toward the people she would soon be seeing. Everyone would be there. Win would be there.
Inge was not in the mood for Win, not with what she now knew about Jason and Gwen. But at least Win didn’t know. That was one drama they would not have to face tonight.
Win, as it happened, was the first person Inge saw when she passed through Caro’s broad front doors with a crowd of Back-to-School parents. Her tall friend was positioned conspicuously just inside the entrance, dressed to kill. And she was deep in conversation with Stacy.
Inge laid a hand on Win’s arm as she passed, thinking to offer a friendly squeeze and move on. But Win turned at the touch and locked onto Inge’s eyes with an unblinking gaze. Inge stopped.
"Hold on," Win demanded, without preamble. "I need to tell you something you won’t believe. I’m just telling Stacy. You’ll never guess who Jason’s been seeing."
Inge’s heart sank.
"I can’t believe it," offered Stacy.
"Gwen. Kindergarten Gwen. Can you believe that?"
"No. Are you sure?" asked Inge, hating herself for asking. Pretending she hadn’t known was no better than lying.
"Totally sure. Philip told me. And it’s apparently serious. He’s invited her to trick-or-treat with them." Win delivered a forced laugh. "It doesn’t get more serious than that. My boys are 12 and 9. There is no more-federal holiday than Halloween." Inge opened her mouth, feeling that some reply was called for. But before she could speak, Stacy jumped in.
"I don’t care if they’re serious!" said Stacy. "Halloween-that’s family time. Do you want me to tell her? ‘Cause I will. I’ll do stuff like that. When kids are involved I’m like-"
"No, Stacy, I think she’s great!" said Win, breaking in.
"You do?" Stacy looked bewildered.
"Yes, she’s perfect for Jas. I’m sure he’s crazy about her." Win laughed again, braying. "She’s the anti-me."
Inge would have to say something. "That’s good, Win, that you’re so-"
But Win interrupted Inge, too. "She can serenade him on her violin," she said a little unpleasantly, and again she laughed her braying laugh.
"But Halloween!" said Stacy. "That’s for parents! With my kids that’s like-"
"I’m dying to know when it began," persisted Win, not listening. "It has to be just since school started. Because when she was our teacher, believe me, he never looked twice. And wasn’t she still with that other guy just last month? With Soul Patch? You were telling me, Inge!"
"I-"
"So you know it has to have moved really fast!"
All around them chattering clusters of parents were greeting and kissing and exclaiming. Many had not seen each other since the previous spring, and the great foyer at Caro rang with their happy conversation. But now, over their heads, the public address system crackled to life and a firm voice cut in, informing them that it was time to proceed to the gym.
Inge grasped at these words as if at a lifeline. Win had asked her when the relationship had started! What a narrow escape! Dan had been right-even righter than he knew. This affair was going to be worse than awkward. It was going to be a minefield.
"They want us to go in," she said, pointing to the air above their heads with a rueful glance. "I’m going to find a seat. It’s packed in there. Win-amazing news!" And with a quickly blown kiss and another squeeze of the arm, she was off.
Inge had every intention of beating a hasty retreat when Back-to-School Night was over. She had a horror of being cornered once again by Win. Although further conversation about Jason and Gwen could not be avoided forever, it would be best if it did not happen tonight, when the origins of the affair were so much on Winifred’s mind. While listening with one ear to the teachers’ presentations, she planned to slip out five minutes before the evening ended, to be sure of making it to the exit ahead of the crowd.
But it was not to be. An unfortunate choice of a seat in the back of a crowded classroom held Inge prisoner until Michael’s teacher had finished talking. The result was that she found herself stuck in the river of parents making their way to the exit.
When she did reach the lobby-just inches from escape-she was held up by Celia, the mother of one of Sarah’s classmates. Celia was very upset about a new standardized test that Caro had just adopted, and she wanted to talk. Inge found herself pinned to the wall beside the great front doors through which she longed to pass. She nodded politely as Celia talked, completely unable to extricate herself.
Behind Celia’s back, Inge watched the river of parents continue to flow, murmuring, across the open space of the foyer. As she did, a terrifying sight unfolded before her eyes. Over Celia’s shoulder, Inge saw Gwen standing by the door, smiling and saying goodnight to the departing parents. Slicing toward Gwen across the crowded lobby was Win. Win’s tall, thin body cut through the flowing crowd like a shark through the water.
Good God.
Inge averted her eyes and desperately searched Celia’s face for an opportunity to excuse herself. Unfortunately, though, Celia was just reaching the red-hot center of her tale. It seemed that her child had a creative learning style, and the new test did not measure this.
"Have you spoken to the counselor?" Inge asked, shrinking into the door frame. She did her best to listen to Celia’s reply, but it was impossible not to watch as Win laid an arm on Gwen’s shoulder. It was impossible not to watch as Gwen turned and discovered that the person who had just accosted her was Win. It was impossible not to notice Gwen’s quick, instinctive alarm, or to see that alarm shift to confusion as Win folded her into a quick hug.
Resolutely, Inge looked away. The matter was out of her hands.
Celia had indeed spoken to the counselor, who had not understood. Inge murmured sympathetically, and many moments passed. At long last she hazarded another glance over Celia’s shoulder. To her relief, she could see that the crowd had thinned and Win had left.
Celia, too, now prepared to depart. "Speaking of Drew," she was saying, "I really should get home to her. I left Steve in charge, and of course that means nothing will get done."
"Got it. Good night!"
But Gwen had spotted her and was waiting.
"Inge, the best thing just happened! Win knows, and she’s great about it! She doesn’t mind at all! She said she thinks it’s fantastic!"
"She did?"
