The move to Peachtree was better for Sloane than my other girls because it allayed her fears somewhat. For her, New York was the center of the evil; Manhattan was the place where she was in jeopardy. So far away, on the water, in this tiny town that most people had never heard of, much less targeted, she was safe. She could breathe again—after a while, anyway.
But my fear went deeper than my girls’ fear. I was a single parent now. I was all they had. If something happened to me, they were on their own, and I knew that couldn’t happen. Not yet. By the time Emerson was eighteen, she was already in LA, out on her own, going to audition after audition. Plus, Caroline was settled enough that I knew she would take care of Emerson. In some ways, I felt like Caroline had had as big an impact on her life as I had. Caroline was certainly the one always pushing Emmy to follow her dreams.
That was the dichotomy of my eldest daughter, the thing you wouldn’t expect. She’s so brash and headstrong that you would assume she was selfish. But she wants everyone to do well and be happy. It took me a while to realize it, but when she does those things—like sending me the cellulite cream—that seem like the bitchiest things in the world, she does them because she knows you will be happier if your arms are more toned. I admire her for that. She is truly pleased to see the people in her life find success.
Maybe not Edie Fitzgerald. But I think anyone could agree that was warranted.
All the blood rushed to my head when I saw Emerson standing at the door to the guesthouse. Oh, Emmy, no, please don’t start out on this foot. I wasn’t insane. I knew my three daughters weren’t all going to come home at the same time without some issues. But this wasn’t a great time to ruffle Caroline’s feathers. I was trying to keep her calm, not rile her up. Anyone could see that leaving your home and your husband behind, while pregnant, was a giant transition. I was never one to bow down to Caroline, thinking it only increased her power, but at this particular moment, some concessions should be made.
“I called it, Mom,” Caroline said. “I have the text to prove it. I called the guesthouse before she even told you she was coming home.”
“Honey,” I said, “I’m sure she isn’t trying to take the guesthouse.”
“Then what does it look like she’s trying to do?”
It looked like she was trying to take the guesthouse.
I stepped out of the car and said, “Hi, Em! I didn’t know you were coming today!”
She skipped over and hugged me heartily. Well, as heartily as those bony arms could possibly hug. “Hi, Mom! I just couldn’t wait to see you.”
She was so thin. I loved thin. Thin was good in my book. But she was too thin. That was the part that scared me the most about her job. The pressure to be perfect was too much. I was always afraid it would get to her. Looking at her now, I couldn’t help but think that it had. But this was a very sensitive topic with Emerson. You couldn’t just bring it up.
“Emerson, no,” Caroline said, a smug look on her face. “Go into the house and have a milk shake. I know you’re trying to compete in Hollywood, but you have taken this weight thing too far.”
I guess someone could just bring it up.
“Caroline!” I scolded.
“Nice to see you, too,” Emerson said.
Vivi got out of the car. “Aunt Emmy!”
“Hi, my gorgeous girl!” Emerson said. “Come give me some love.”
At that moment, Kyle walked out of the guesthouse.
Unbelievable. She had been here no more than two hours, and she was already sleeping with my barista. Good Lord. Children. I was wondering why I had agreed to this, but then I remembered that I hadn’t agreed to it. Not at all. But I’m their mother. And this was my job.
Caroline crossed her arms. “If you think you can keep me out of my guesthouse by having sex in it, you’ve got another think coming.”
“Caroline!” I scolded.
“It’s OK, Gransley,” Vivi said. “I know what sex is.”
“Well, it’s not nice to talk about it,” I whispered to her.
“Are you serious?” Emerson asked, anger rising in her voice. “Is this what you think of me? I’m some whore who runs into town and sleeps with the first thing she sees?”
We all knew Emerson wasn’t exactly demure. I was actually relieved when she moved to LA, so I wouldn’t have to hear about her conquests around town anymore.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Caroline said, planting her feet in the driveway.
“Vivi, darling,” I said, “why don’t you and I go inside and get all your groceries organized in the fridge?”
“Oh, and I can show you how to use the Vitamix, too!” she said brightly, as if World War Three weren’t happening on our manicured lawn. “Gransley,” she said seriously, “it will change your life.”
You couldn’t help but smile. Eleven going on twenty-five.
As Vivi and I were unloading the car, that damn Mr. Solomon appeared. “What’s all the commotion out here? Can you keep it down? The dog is trying to sleep.”
“The dog?” Vivi whispered. “Seriously?”
I shook my head.
“You might want to invest in some earplugs, Mr. Solomon,” I said. “The third one isn’t even home yet.” I paused, then, unable to help myself, added, “You’ll be wishing that fence was longer, taller, and denser before long.”
“I’ll have you know,” he said, “that I’ll be running my tomato plants up that eyesore you call a fence. Since it’s on my property.”
“Great,” I said, glaring at him. “I can’t wait. I’ll have fresh tomatoes all year long. Since they’ll be growing on my property.”
Caroline and Emerson were glaring at each other now, too. It hadn’t been one minute. We hadn’t made it one minute without a fight. But I couldn’t help but think it was a little hypocritical to be mad, considering that I was doing exactly the same thing with Frank Solomon.
“Who is that?” Vivi asked.
“My horrible, rude neighbor.” I practically yelled so that he would be sure to hear me. “Girls,” I said, “why don’t we talk the whole guesthouse thing out? This isn’t worth fighting over. We’re all going to be here together like old times, and it’s going to be great.” I paused. “I know,” I said brightly. “Maybe Emerson could stay in the third bedroom of the guesthouse until the baby comes.”
Win-win. They wouldn’t fight, and that would be one fewer person in my house.
“I don’t even want the guesthouse!” Emerson yelled. “I was doing something nice for my wicked witch of a sister. Now I see I shouldn’t have bothered.”
Poor Kyle was standing there totally flustered, as if these two bantering hyenas on the lawn were from a species he’d never encountered. He saluted me. “Ansley, I don’t know much about this stuff. I sort of move the boxes and leave. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“The boxes!” Vivi exclaimed.
“Oh, my gosh!” Caroline yelled. “Emerson!” she called, running after her sister, which stressed me out because of her pregnant state. “I’m sorry, Emmy,” she was calling. “I love you. You know you’re my favorite.”
But it was too late to apologize. Emerson was already in the house, halfway up to her room, I assumed. And all I could do was look apologetically at Kyle and hope that it was smooth sailing from here.