Authors: Melody Carlson
“He’ll probably use a few of them. But he’ll hire some new faces too.”
Suddenly I feel very tired. “You know, it’s been a long day,” I tell him. “I should probably get going. And I need to check on Paige. She’s still pretty fragile.”
“When is she going public with the breakup?” Blake asks as he walks me to my Jeep.
“I’m not sure.” I glance at him. “You didn’t tell Ben, did you?”
“No. I promised you I wouldn’t. You can trust me.”
“Good.” I sigh as I unlock my vehicle. “To be honest, I’m not totally sure they
are
breaking up.”
“Are you kidding? After what Dylan pulled?”
I shake my finger under his nose. “Remember … innocent until proven guilty.”
“Right.” He leans down and kisses me on the cheek. “Be safe.”
As I drive home, I’m mulling over two things. First and foremost is Blake’s big news. And while I know this is a good career break for him and I should be happy, an unsettling cloak of worry wraps itself around me. What if this “opportunity” derails Blake? What if it unravels him the way I’ve seen it unravel so many others? The other thought nagging me right
now is that brotherly peck Blake gave me as a good-night kiss. What did that mean anyway? That his interest toward me has suddenly cooled now that he’s got a hot new project to leap into? And, if that’s the case, how does that make me feel?
On my way up the stairs to the condo, I remember my hopeful expectation as I drove to Starbucks. I was actually getting ready to tell Blake, “Yes! I want to be in an exclusive relationship with you!” Now, instead of taking that next step, I’m trying to accept that my would-be boyfriend might be participating in a reality show about dating—
dating other girls!
As usual, I’m surprised at my sister’s resilience.
Either that or she’s becoming very adept at concealing her real feelings about Dylan. But other than being a little quieter and more of a homebody, Paige seems to be bouncing back. However, like many things in life, appearances can be deceiving.
After previewing some of the Bahamas footage, as well as the Eco Show episode, which I snagged on my own, Helen invites Paige and me into her office. “I just love that little redheaded designer,” Helen tells us with enthusiasm. “The one whose mom died of a drug overdose.”
“Rhiannon Farley,” I say. “Yes. Remember, we met her in New York over the winter?”
“Yes, I thought she seemed familiar.” Helen adjusts her glasses as she writes something down. “Well, she’s great on camera. She has a compelling story. And I would love for you girls to do a whole show about her.” Helen pauses as if thinking. “Perhaps the show could feature a couple other new designers too — you know, fresh young faces, passion, enthusiasm, new blood.” She smiles at us. “What do you think?”
“I love it,” I tell her. I notice that Paige seems checked out just now and I wonder why. But I suspect that seeing the Bahamas on the big screen (including shots of the actual heartbreak hotel) is taking a toll on her. “I know we did a bit of this last winter, but we never devoted a whole show to new designers. I think our viewers would respond really well to it. It’s like that old story—only in America.”
“Exactly.” Helen points her pen in the air. “Only in America. That’s good, Erin. Maybe that’s what we’ll call that episode.” She leans over to write it down then looks up. “By the way, have you seen Fran lately?”
I explain that I was with her last night and give a quick update about the upcoming transplant procedure.
“I’m hoping to get this new designer show in the can before hiatus,” she says. “Maybe I should give your mother a call.”
I nod. “Yes. It’s her last week at work at Channel Five.”
“Perfect. If all goes well, I think you girls can plan to pop on over to the Big Apple by late next week. Sound good?”
“Sounds great. Fran’s transplant will be over by then too.”
Helen frowns at Paige. “What about you? You sure are being quiet. Everything okay?”
Now I notice that Paige looks like she’s seriously unraveling, and I can tell she’s about to cry. “I — uh — I …” she stammers. Helen doesn’t know about what happened in the Bahamas with Dylan yet, and I realize this situation is way more complicated than I’d assumed. Suddenly Paige stands up. “I — uh — I need a moment.”
“Okay …?” Helen’s brows arch as Paige makes a quick exit. Once the door is closed, Helen turns to me. “All right, Jiminy, tell me what’s going on here and make it quick.”
I press my lips together, wondering how much to say. Then I realize there’s really no way to keep this a secret from Helen. So, without going into much detail, I hurry to spill the story.
“That rotten little brat.” Helen makes a growling sound. “If I had any mafia connections, I’d send someone out to break that boy’s legs.”
“We don’t know for certain that Dylan cheated,” I say meekly. “After all, there was a hurricane—it was kind of crazy. And he claims he only slept on the couch in the girl’s suite.”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” She lets out a foul word. “Poor Paige.”
“Yeah, it’s been hard on her.” I realize I didn’t mention the name of the girl involved. “And there’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“Rhiannon Farley’s business partner is Eliza Wilton—”
“Yes, I caught that part in the film. Eliza used to model. And wasn’t she friends with Taylor Mitchell?”
“Uh … yeah.” I had forgotten about Helen’s familiarity with Eliza. “So, anyway, Eliza was the … the
other
woman.”
Helen frowns. “Oh, dear.”
“Allegedly, I mean. The other woman, allegedly.”
“Yes, well, that does put a damper on the ‘Only in America’ episode.”
Now I feel torn. For Rhiannon’s sake, I really want to do her story. But what about Paige?
“Well, maybe we need to rethink that idea.” Helen points her pen at me. “Or … maybe you should take your mother and the crew and get that show yourself, Erin.” She smiles. “That’s it. We’ll send you on a solo mission. You did a great job with the Eco Show and—”
“Sorry about that,” Paige reenters the room.
Helen waves her hand. “It’s completely understandable. Erin just filled me in on the details.” She makes a
tsk-tsk
sound. “And you have my complete sympathy. Furthermore, you’re off the hook for the New York trip.”
“Really?”
“Erin will cover that show on her own.”
“What?” Paige looks at me with troubled eyes. “I’m not going?”
“I figured you wouldn’t want to go, Paige. Considering that Rhiannon’s partner is, well … you know.”
Paige stands up straighter. “What if I
want
to go, Helen?”
Helen smiles. “Then you’ll go.”
“Fine.” Paige nods firmly. “Then I’ll go.”
“Great. You girls bring your mother in here on Monday — check with Sabrina for the time — and we’ll go over the details.”
With the meeting over, I stop by Sabrina’s desk. Today she’s dressed like she wants to audition for the next vampire movie, but I know that’s just her style. I ask her for an appointment on Monday. “But not after one,” I tell her. “Fran is having her bone marrow transplant that afternoon.”
Sabrina makes a sympathetic smile. “Tell her hey for me, okay?”
“I will.”
Monday’s meeting is set for nine, and before long Paige and I are on our way home in her car. She’s quiet as she navigates her way through rush hour traffic.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “I mean with the New York trip.”
She scowls my way. “I can’t believe Helen was going to send you alone, Erin—and that you were willing to go.”
“Is that why you’re being so quiet? You’re upset about
that?
If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t too comfortable with the idea either. I just didn’t want to lose the chance to do a show on Rhiannon. She’s a great designer. I think she deserves a break like that. Don’t you?”
“I guess.”
“But you’re mad at me anyway?”
“A little.” She sighs. “Okay, that’s just the tip of iceberg.”
“I know. And it’s understandable if you don’t want to be around Eliza. In fact, maybe we could plan it so that your paths never cross.”
“Or, maybe …” Paige gets this slightly diabolical look, kind of like the time she sneaked a lab rat into Britney Rolland’s locker in middle school. “We could plan it so they do.”
“You
want
to see Eliza?”
“Maybe …”
“What exactly do you have in mind?”
“Nothing exactly … but maybe by next week I will.”
“It won’t be anything illegal, will it?”
She laughs. “No, of course not.”
“Or dangerous or stupid?”
“I’m not a fool, Erin.”
“Right …” I remember Paige’s irresponsible behavior when she got drunk in the Bahamas and couldn’t film our show the following day because of her hangover. Not a fool? Wasn’t that, like, just a couple of weeks ago?
As she drives us home, I think I can see the wheels spinning beneath her perfectly coiffed blonde head, and I’m feeling a little worried. Then I decide it might be best if I’m in the dark about the whole thing. Ignorance might very well be bliss.
“I can’t believe I’m going to be sitting home alone on a Friday night,” Paige says once we’re home.
“But you didn’t mind before,” I say as we go inside.
“Before — when I thought I was still engaged.”
“So does this mean you’re really not getting back together?” I point to yesterday’s bouquet of flowers. “If that’s the case, maybe you should let Dylan in on it too.”
“Oh, he knows how I feel.” She drops her purse on the table with a clunk.
“How
do
you feel?” I ask. “I mean, sometimes it seems like you two are finished for good. And sometimes I’m not too sure.”
“I told Dylan that if he can prove his love to me, if he can convince me that he was never with Eliza, then there’s still a chance for us.”
“How can he do that?”
She frowns with one hand on the fridge. “I’m not sure. In fact, he keeps asking me the same thing.” “And what do you tell him?”
“That he’ll have to figure it out.” She pulls out a pitcher of iced tea.
“Maybe it’ll help to go to New York,” I say as she pours a glass. “Maybe you guys can sit down and talk it out.”
She looks skeptical as she takes a long sip. “Maybe.”
To change the subject, which is beyond me anyway, I tell her about the reality show that Ben’s invited Blake to participate in.
“How do you feel about that?” she asks. I shrug. “Okay … I guess.”
“Seriously?” She frowns. “I thought you couldn’t stand Ben.”
“I don’t hate him. I just hate some of the stunts he’s pulled.” “And it doesn’t bother you that Blake’s still hanging with him?”
I press my lips together.
“It
does
bug you, doesn’t it?” she challenges.
“Yeah. It does.”
“I knew it.”
“Not that there’s much I can do about it.”
“Did you tell Blake how you feel about the show?” She sets her glass on the counter and looks at me like she’s suddenly turned into a relationship expert.
“I think I did.”
“Then it seems like he’d want to rethink it.” “But it’s a big opportunity for him.” I pour myself a glass of tea as well. “And besides, the show might not even happen.” “Why not?”
“Celebrity Blind Date?”
I frown. “It seems a little hokey, don’t you think?”
“I actually think it sounds like a solid idea.” Her brow creases. “In fact, I’m a little surprised Ben came up with it.”
“Why?”
“Oh, you know, he always seemed more like a face — not exactly the brains behind things.” She peers curiously at me and changes the subject. “You didn’t tell Blake about Dylan and me, did you?”
“No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
“It’s just that I’m a little surprised Ben’s including Blake.”
“Why wouldn’t he? I mean, they
are
friends. And Blake’s been there for Ben a lot this past year.”
“Yes, and that’s nice on Blake’s part, but it doesn’t exactly qualify him to be on a TV show.”
I frown. “It’s a
reality
show, Paige. What qualifies anyone for that?”
“It’s just that sometimes I wonder if Ben might be using Blake.”
“Using
Blake? For what possible purpose?” “To get to me.”
Normally, I’d point out how narcissistic that kind of thinking is, but because Paige is still pretty beat up over this Dylan dilemma, I decide not to mention it. “So what if Ben is using Blake?” I say. “Does it matter?”
“I guess not. As long as Blake is aware of Ben’s motives.”
“How could you possibly know what Ben’s motives are?”
She gives me her “duh” look. “Because I
know
Ben. I know how that boy’s mind works. Everything with Ben
is all about Ben.”
I just nod. Although I hate to admit it, and I’d like to think she’s evolved a bit more than this, I think that in some ways Ben and Paige are not all that different.
On Saturday morning I call Mollie and
offer to babysit Fern so Mollie can have some time off. But after I get there, Mollie has decided she doesn’t want to go out. “I don’t really have anywhere to go,” she says.
“You can use my Jeep,” I urge her. “The top’s down. Just go out and drive around if you want.”
“No, that’s okay.”
I study her. She’s wearing rumpled sweats and her hair is pulled back in a scruffy ponytail. “Are you all right?” “I’m fine. I just don’t feel like going out.” “Have you even had a shower today?” She frowns. “What? Do I smell?”
“No. You just don’t look like yourself. Really, are you okay?”
She starts to cry.
“Mollie?” I question her. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” She reaches for a tissue, sniffling.
“Did Tony do something?”
“No. Tony’s been great.” Now she’s sobbing.
“Mollie?”
“I’m sorry — I can’t help it.” She blows her nose. “I just feel so sad.”
“Did something happen today?”
“It’s not just today, Erin.” She wipes her eyes. “It’s every day.”
“Every
day?”
She nods, blowing her nose again. “It’s not that I don’t love Fern.” She strokes her baby’s head. “I do. It’s just that I’m so sad. Maybe I’m grieving.”
“Grieving?”
“You know … for doing this all wrong.”
“Doing what wrong? You’re a great mom, Mollie. You’re doing it really right.”
“No … I mean having a baby without being married. Fern — she doesn’t even have a daddy.”
“She has a daddy, Mollie. Tony’s her—”
“No, I mean she’s —oh, you know what I mean.” Now she’s crying really hard, and Fern is starting to fuss too. I wonder if Fern’s just reflecting her mom’s sadness. I want to break this cycle.
“Mollie,” I say in a firm tone. “You go take a shower and get dressed, okay?”
“But I —”
“Just do it!”
She blinks. “All right.”
While she’s showering, I go to her laptop and quickly google postpartum depression—or what they call the baby blues. I remember reading a brochure about this while Mollie was in the hospital with Fern. At the time I thought nothing
of it, but after reading online a bit, I wonder if this is what’s troubling Mollie.
I carry Fern upstairs, hoping Mollie’s mom is still here. She looked like she was getting ready to go out when I arrived. Fortunately, she’s still in the kitchen and it sounds like she’s trying to get off the phone. I wait for her to hang up then ask if she has a minute.
“Sure.” She makes a cooing sound at Fern. “How’s my little princess?”
“I’m worried about Mollie,” I tell her.
“Mollie?” She looks oblivious.
“I wonder if she might have postpartum depression.”
Mrs. Tyson frowns. “Do you think so?”
“I know she’s been a little moody since Fern was born, and I figured it was normal. But Mollie just admitted that she cries every day.”
“Every day?”
“Do you think she should talk to someone about it? I mean, a professional?”
“She really cries every day?”
“Please, don’t tell her that I told you,” I say quickly. “I don’t think she even wanted me to know. She wants to be strong for Fern’s sake. But she is really sad underneath.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to her about it. And we’ll make an appointment with her doctor.”
“I’ll try to get her to go out today,” I say.
“Good luck with that.” She shakes her head. “That girl’s been a real stick-in-the-mud lately. I wanted her to come shopping with me today and she refused.”
“Do you think that’s part of her depression?”
“Maybe so.” She glances at her watch. “I’m late, Erin. I’m supposed to meet a friend for lunch.”
“But you’ll make an appointment for her?”
“Sure.” She kisses Fern then rushes out the door. I hurry back down to the basement and reach the final stair as Mollie is emerging from the bathroom. “Feel better?” I ask hopefully.
She just shrugs.
“Put on something fun,” I tell her. “Like a sundress or something.”
“Yeah, right.” She gives me a dark scowl. “Why not?”
She points to her bathrobe as if that’s a clue.
“Huh?”
“I can’t
fit
into any of my old clothes, Erin.” “But you look great, Mollie.” She rolls her eyes.
“Fine,” I tell her. “Just put on a clean set of warm-ups and do something with your hair, okay?”
While Mollie’s doing this, I change Fern’s diaper then dress her in an adorable pink-and-white striped romper with a matching hat. “Hey, maybe we should do a
Runway
show about children’s clothes,” I call out to Mollie. She grumbles a response and I realize my work is going to be cut out for me today. That’s when I decide to think like my sister. Better yet, I decide to call her.
“I need your help,” I say quietly, even though Mollie’s in the bathroom.
“What’s up?”
I quickly explain about Mollie’s blues. “I know it won’t fix everything, but I was thinking if she had a little makeover, she might—”
“Great idea,” Paige says cheerfully. And just like that she’s concocting a plan, telling me to bring Mollie to the condo and explaining what we’ll do after that. “You know —this would make a good show.”
“Well, please, don’t invite the camera crew,” I tell her. “I don’t think Mollie could handle that today.”
“Mollie can’t handle what?” Mollie asks as she emerges from the bathroom looking only slightly better than when she went in.
“A surprise,” I say as I hand Fern to her. “I’ll get the car seat and stroller.”
“Where are we going?” she asks while she tucks some things into the diaper bag.
“You’ll see.”
We’re almost out of the house when she glances in the mirror by the front door. “Oh, Erin, I can’t go out looking like this.”
“Don’t worry,” I assure her. “No one’s going to see you like that.” “Huh?”
“Come on,” I urge, “we have a schedule to keep.”
Mollie relaxes a little when she sees we’re only going to the condo. As we go up the stairs, I explain my little makeover plan. “Paige is going to help.”
Mollie chuckles. “Well, that’s a relief. I know you’ve come a long way in fashion, Erin, but I’m not sure I’d trust you with a makeover just yet.”
“Yeah, fine.” I make a face at her. “I’ll just be the babysitter.”
“Right this way,” Paige says as soon as we’re in the condo, waving Mollie over to where she’s set up what looks like a hair and makeup station in the dining room.
“This is so sweet of — “ Mollie’s voice cracks in a sob.
“Now don’t start crying,” Paige warns her. “Your eyes are already puffy enough. Erin, go get a cucumber, okay?”
Before long, with cucumber slices secured by a sleeping mask over Mollie’s eyes, Paige goes to work. “I tried to get you in to a couple of salons,” Paige says as she spreads green gunk over Mollie’s face. “But Saturday is a busy day. So I figured, why not just do it myself?”
“Don’t worry,” I assure Mollie. “You know you’re in good hands. Paige is probably better than most of the pros anyway.”
I take Fern into the living room, leaving Paige to work her magic. I know I’m not always appreciative of my sister’s skills in the world of fashion and beauty, but I am today. And I know it can’t substitute for an appointment with a medical professional, but I don’t think it can hurt either.
After a little more than an hour, Mollie struts into the living room like a model. Okay, a short model. “What d’ya think?”
“Wow,” I say quietly as I continue attempting to rock Fern to sleep. “You look like a new woman.” Her usual unruly red curls are now silky and smooth and it looks like the ends have been trimmed, as well as some feathery bangs cut around her face that really bring out her eyes. Her skin is glowing, and her makeup is impeccable.
“I feel like a new woman.”
“And now it’s time to go shopping,” Paige announces as she gets her purse.
“Maybe Fern and I should stay here,” I suggest. “No way,” Paige says. “You’re coming with us.” “But she’s being a little fussy.” “That’s because it’s feeding time,” Mollie explains.
So while Mollie feeds Fern, Paige and I gather up the baby things and switch them to Paige’s car, which is a bit of an ordeal that I’m still getting used to, but I make sure Fern’s seat is secure and safe. And before long we head off to one of Paige’s favorite shops, where, as usual, Paige gets the full attention of the sales people.
“I really do think this could be a show,” Paige says as she helps Mollie pick out some things to try on. Paige keeps in mind that Mollie is short and not necessarily “petite,” picking out some items that make her look taller and thinner. She keeps the look more classic than trendy and, although it’s still summer and warm, she looks for lightweight layers appropriate for the fall.
“Maybe we could call it ‘Beating the Baby Blues,’ “ I say as I navigate Fern’s stroller through a tight aisle.
“Maybe we could have you in it too,” Paige suggests to Mollie. “Would you be willing to wear a pillow or something and pretend you’re still pregnant?”
Mollie chuckles. “Well, I’m not eager to be pregnant again, but if I’m only acting, why not?”
“I’ll tell Helen about this idea next week,” Paige says as she hands Mollie a pale-yellow sundress. “Although I doubt we can do much with it before our New York trip.”
“New York?” Mollie frowns. “I thought your next trip was Milan.”
I quickly explain about Rhiannon and New York to Mollie, and before she can start getting bummed about our “fun and glamorous lives,” Paige escorts her to the dressing room, telling her which things to try on with what.
After awhile, Mollie emerges in an outfit that really works—a shell-pink sleeveless top, a flouncy skirt in a fun,
tropical print, and a light, lacy cardigan. “Very pretty,” I tell her. “That color is great on you.”
But Mollie looks glum.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “You look great.”
“It’s these clothes,” she says. “They’re too expensive.”
I was expecting this, and I already have a plan. “We told you this is going to be part of a show,” I tell her. “So the show is covering the cost of this outfit.”
“Really?” Her eyes grow wide.
“That’s right,” Paige says as she holds out a pair of great-looking sandals. “Try these on, Mollie.”
I realize what I said isn’t completely true, but it’s partly true. Because my money comes from the show, in essence, the show really is covering the cost. And, who knows? If we do a show about this maybe the costs
will
be covered.
Anyway, I’m glad to do this for Mollie. By the time the items are rung up, Mollie is beaming. She really does seem like a new woman as the saleswoman clips the tags and bags up her old clothes.
“Let’s get some lunch,” Paige suggests as we’re putting Mollie’s bags into the trunk. “I’ll call and see if I can get us in somewhere special.”
Before long, with Baby Fern sleeping contentedly in her stroller, we are dining al fresco at a new bistro. And after a couple of girls come up for autographs and photos of Paige, we manage to have a nice, quiet lunch.
“You guys are the best,” Mollie tells us as Paige is driving back to her house. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”
“Well, first of all,” Paige says firmly, “promise that you won’t go around looking like you did when you showed up at the condo this morning.”
Mollie laughs. “Sorry about that.”
“Seriously,” Paige tells her. “You need to realize that how you look will affect how you feel. Not only that, but it hurts my image too.”
“Your
image?” I stare at my sister. “Huh?”
“Well, Mollie’s my friend too. I can’t have my friends looking like something the cat dragged in. It’s bad for my reputation.”
Okay, I can’t help but laugh. Leave it to my sister to make Mollie’s postpartum depression all about her.
“I’ll try harder,” Mollie says. “And I’m honored that you consider me a friend, Paige.”
“Well, of course you’re a friend,” Paige assures her. “Any friend of Erin’s is a friend of mine. Right, Erin?”
“Right.”
As I help Mollie lug the baby things into her house, I realize that Paige really doesn’t have many friends. Not real ones anyway. Most of Paige’s friendships have been ruined by jealousy or competition … or just plain neglect on Paige’s part. In fact, besides Mom and me, I can’t even think of one really good female friend she has. While I was assuming that today was a generous sacrifice on Paige’s part, I’m now wondering if she might’ve actually enjoyed the whole thing more than I realized.
As Paige drives us back to the condo, Blake calls my cell phone.
“Good news,” he says happily.
“What’s that?”
“The show—it’s a go!”
“Congratulations,” I tell him.
“We’ll go into production in early August.”
“That’s great.”
“So I thought maybe you’d want to go out with me to celebrate tonight.”
“Sure, sounds good.”
“Because I was thinking you’re part of the reason this is even happening.”
“Really? How’s that?”
“Well, it’s because of your show that I met Ben.”
“Oh, yeah. I hope that’s really a good thing.”
He laughs easily. “Sure, it’s a good thing.”
Then he asks what I’m doing and I tell him about how Paige and I gave Mollie a makeover. “She was totally bummed this morning,” I say as Paige pulls into the condo lot. “But she was on top of the world when we dropped her at home.” I’m thinking that shopping might be preferable to drugs when it comes to beating the baby blues — except it can be expensive.
“Hey, maybe she’d like to come to dinner too,” he says, “and I could invite Tony.”
“Really? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Sure. Maybe Paige would want to come too. The more the merrier.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I want to celebrate. You check with them and get back to me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
After I hang up I tell Paige about Blake’s good news as well as his invitation. “He wants to celebrate.”
“Really?” She looks touched. “And he wants me to come too?”
“Of course. Remember what you said—any friend of mine is a friend of yours.”