“Someone will escort you to your room in just a minute! First, you must be hungry from your long journey,” Anna said, before disappearing down a long hallway. Ten minutes later she reappeared holding a clipboard and with a Bluetooth device in her ear, and led me down the same hallway and through three doors. I tried to remember which way we turned and what the rooms we passed through looked like, as if I were some kind of blindfolded hostage being taken away by car. I’d practically need GPS in this house!
Finally, she flung a set of double doors open to reveal a party in progress. I stared, gawking at round tables set with full flatware and centerpieces as if it were a wedding. Glittery lights twinkled in the multiple chandeliers. Women crowded the room—the women! I instantly recognized many of them from the bootcamp video conferences. Only one thing was wrong: they were all dressed to the nines. Every last woman had donned cute skirt and sweater combinations, pastel pumps, A-line dresses and dangly earrings. I stood, self-conscious, at the entrance next to Anna.
I leaned over, “Anna, is there any way I can change—” I gestured down at my black saggy leggings and university sweatshirt.
“Don’t worry, this is just the reception brunch. It was on your itinerary. It’s very casual.”
I remembered the reception brunch, but I was thinking it’d be more scrambled eggs, croissants and mimosas over giggles in sweatpants, not what looked like Easter Sunday at the Vatican.
I took off my backpack and placed it by the door. David had insisted I take his hiking backpack as my carry-on “because of all the pockets.”
Walking slowly toward the buffet, I redid my ponytail.
“Ashley? Ashley Keller, is that you?” A high-pitched voice cut through me right as I was reaching for what looked like a grapefruit champagne cocktail.
I turned around to see a six-foot leggy blonde in a pale pink, knee-length taffeta dress and matching heels running toward me. It was Heather Logan, mom of three-month-old twins from New Jersey. I recognized her from her posts featuring chalkboard paint tutorials, making door wreaths for every season and basically any craft you can think of. She was a star on the Motherhood Better Bootcamp portal.
She gathered me in a tight hug for several seconds before pushing me playfully away. I tried not to lose my balance.
“Hi, Heather! You look fantastic!” She really did. I wish I’d gotten the memo about dresses.
“Thank you, doll! And you look...no way, did you already find the gym? You are such an overachiever!” she practically yelled. She motioned toward several ladies who were gathered in a small circle near us.
“You guys, Ashley already worked out!” she boomed, pointing at me.
A woman in a black pencil skirt, red fitted blazer and red pumps turned toward us. “No way. I’ve been dying to get on the treadmill. Only two days until six million people are staring at us on TV.” She flipped her hair and looked me up and down. “Where is it?”
I laughed nervously. “Where’s what?”
A small crowd was forming now. They were eyeing me carefully, as if I were a threat, while simultaneously circling me like easy prey.
“There’s a gym?” I heard someone mutter.
“Yeah, she already went,” said someone else.
Heather waved her hands as if to clear the air. “Okay, calm down, ladies! You’ll all have a chance to kill yourselves on the elliptical later!” The crowd dissipated.
I exhaled, relieved.
“So,” Heather went on. “Have you met Emily yet?” She said Emily’s name as if she were a third grader teasing her schoolyard friend about her crush.
I grabbed the fruity cocktail and took a big sip. “I just got here, no. Have—” Before I had a chance to finish the sentence, Heather was dragging me across the floor by my hand.
We stopped in front of a woman who was in conversation with one of the waitstaff, but even with her back turned to us, I could tell it was Emily. I felt myself get hot and then cold all over. No, no, no! I couldn’t meet Emily Walker dressed like someone on laundry day!
But it was too late. Heather tapped Emily on the shoulder. As she turned toward me, I’m positive I saw a beam of light encircle her face. Her makeup was flawless, her hair perfectly done up in a stylish ponytail, not a raggedy slept-on one like mine. A short jade dress accentuated her lean, curvy figure.
I was speechless. For once I was grateful to have Heather’s mouth do the talking for me. “Emily, have you met Ashley?”
Emily’s eyes lit up. “Ashley Keller!” She took the sides of my arms gently and gave me a kiss on each cheek. I moved, stiffly, unsure of how this greeting was supposed to happen. I’d only ever seen it on a few travel shows.
“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you! I feel like I’ve known you forever. This is Sage.” She looked down and for the first time I noticed the toddler peeking through her legs. “He’s a little shy.” She bent down gracefully and scooped up the child whose curly brown hair framed his long black eyelashes. He looked like a child model in his white shorts and a white sweater with a little navy anchor on the chest.
“He’s getting tired,” Emily purred into Sage’s ear and he laid his head against her chest.
I gawked, awestruck. If Aubrey were here, she’d be pulling at my earrings, screaming for a scone and generally raising hell, but here was Emily, being an amazing mom, hosting a party and looking fabulous while doing it. She was absolutely perfect.
“Ashley, I can’t wait to talk to you more, but I’m going to give a little speech before everyone gets restless!”
“Okay,” I sputtered, realizing that I hadn’t said one word since meeting her.
I found my way back to the buffet, trying to choose between piles of freshly shaved, cured meats, mouthwatering platters of fresh fruit, pastries, cheese, and the crepe and omelet bar. I never wanted to go home.
I heard the telltale sound of a microphone being tapped and turned to face the front of the room.
Emily was holding a mic and grinning.
“Hello, everyone! I’m so glad that you’ve all arrived safe and sound! Welcome to the Motherhood Better Bootcamp Finale!”
Everyone cheered.
“I want you to take your time eating, drinking and mingling. Your only job here is to have a great time. You’ve earned it.”
Heather “whooped” from inside the crowd.
“My number-one goal since I started the Emily Walker empire has been to inspire and support moms. I hope that the Motherhood Better Bootcamp has done that for you. No matter who is crowned as the winner in two days, I want you to know that, in my book, you’re all queens.”
Applause broke out. I could feel myself getting misty. If I hadn’t had a plate full of ham and cheese omelets, mandarin-orange crepes topped with fresh cream and about six different kinds of meat, I would have clapped, too. I wished every mom could know what it felt like to be recognized like this.
I found an empty table in the back and proceeded to attack my plate.
Just when I’d stuffed a prosciutto-covered piece of cantaloupe into my face, a voice distracted me. “Ashley? Hi, I’m Kimmie Reardon.”
Kimmie Reardon. How could I forget? I’d seen her name all over the Motherhood Better boards. Mom of four. Lives in Los Angeles. Loves to bake. Completed all of the challenges with ease and always has ten or twelve photos to prove it.