Totlandia: Spring (12 page)

The Twosies’ moms were to run the auction. Each time a bid was made on a box, one of the children would be allowed to hit the toddler-sized podium with a rubber mallet.

The Onesies were in charge of the “bank.” Each Onesie was given five tulle bags filled with loose chocolates, to hand out to the older children.

Everything was running smoothly until the auction began. Suddenly Mallory’s son, Angus, pointed under one of the tables and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Hey! One of the babies is eating all the chocolates!”

All heads dropped under the table.

The culprit was Zoe. The proof was smeared all over her lips.

She wasn’t alone. Amelia and Addison had followed her lead, tearing open the bags and popping the chocolates into their mouths.

Angus grabbed one of the bags out of Zoe’s hand. “I’m not letting you eat mine!”

In retaliation, Zoe bit him on the arm.

Yelping, Angus stood straight up and banged his head on the tabletop.

“My son! He’s been attacked by your brat,” Mallory screamed at Ally.

The children lunged at any Onesie in sight, even the obedient ones. Horrified, the Onesies cried at the top of their lungs as the bags were ripped from their pudgy little fingers.

The mothers coming to their children’s aid were just as bad. The Onesies’ mommies clasped their terrified babies to their breasts, while the moms of the older children insisted that their children were only taking what was rightfully theirs.

Tossing a twin under each arm, Jillian worked her way out of the free-for-all. Ally and Lorna with howling children in tow, were right on her heels. They made it to the front door—

Only to find it blocked by Bettina.

Was there a scowl on her face? It was hard to tell, considering the smoothness of her brow. But the tone of her voice left no doubt otherwise. “Jillian, dear, if this is what you call ‘fun and games,’ I can only imagine the kind of board member you’d make! In fact—”

A phone went off, but the ringtone, “
How Much Is That Doggie in the Window
,” was nothing any of the Onesies moms had on their cells.

Bettina’s eyes grew as wide as her eyelid blepharoplasty would allow. “Emergency! I must take this!” She turned her back on the others, all of whom realized there was an apt metaphor in that.

“You mean…my baby is here? Oh my God! I’ll be right over!”

All the others exchanged puzzled glances.
Was Bettina adopting a child?

God help the poor child…

When she turned to face them, Bettina’s smile was luminous. Girlish almost. “I must leave immediately! Lorna, be a doll and do me the favor of taking Lily with you, okay?”

“Sure,” Lorna murmured. “Bettina I…I don’t know what to say except—I’m so proud you’re so openhearted.” She gave her sister-in-law a hug.

Stunned, touched in fact, Bettina patted her shoulder. “Lorna…thank you for understanding. Lily is very excited about it too, of course. I just hope they get along. If not, the little beggar will be confined to the terrace, I guess.”

Ally, Lorna and Jillian exchanged shocked looks. Twenty stories up?

Bettina was already halfway down the sidewalk before she turned back around. “And, Jillian dear, great party! Just make sure to clean up the mess. Ask Mallory for her help.”

Ally and Lorna had to prop Jillian up before she dropped the twins.

Jillian smiled and nodded, but she waited until Bettina hopped in her car and drove off before muttering through her smile, “Like hell I will.” She turned to Ally. “Quid pro quo. If you’ll help with cleanup, I’ll help set up the adult party tomorrow night. ”

Ally shook her head adamantly “Um…no, no, nothing to worry about. Got it covered! Feel free to take the night off.”

“Really? Don’t you want me to—?”

Ally’s way of changing the subject was to wave in the direction of the ruckus. “Shouldn’t we clean up Armageddon?”

Suddenly Jillian’s face turned white. “Oh, heck! When the fight broke out, two of the Fivesies boys were eating glue! I’ve got to get back in there!”

“I’m on it. Go clear out the rest of the troops.” Lorna shook her head. “If their mothers ask, I’ll tell them the boys are high on sugar.
Just
…sugar.”

The puppy was a bitch.

No!
Bettina thought horrified.
This is wrong, all wrong!

And it was so puny, too. Plain black, like a gutter rat! Nothing at all like big, strong, and deep auburn Caligula.

Sybil was in the process of ingratiating herself to a man who was buying two of the puppies, not exactly the ideal time for Bettina to tap her on the shoulder, but she did so anyway.

Bettina shook her head at Sybil. “This will not do! You knew I wanted a male.”

“Sorry, but I can’t predict the sex of the pups. As it turns out, this litter’s pick was a big strapping male, and a female is the runt. Life goes on. Take her or leave her.”

“In that case, I’ll leave her,” Bettina sneered.

Sybil shrugged. “Bu-bye! Don’t let the dog door hit you on the way out.” She turned back to the man.

Bettina was mortified at the thought, but more so by Sybil’s assumption that she would be leaving empty-handed. She tapped Sybil on the shoulder again. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Sybil turned back to her, confused. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’d like my check back.”

“Sorry, no refunds.” She pointed to the sign over the door.

“But…it was ten thousand dollars!”

“And you’ve refused to take the puppy you bought. That’s not my fault. It wasn’t a deposit, it was a purchase.”

“But you said you had a waiting list for the pup, so there is no loss to you! And besides, it’s a thoroughbred and will find a home with someone who will love her.”

Sybil walked Bettina toward the door. “Speaking of dog lovers, the new owners for the pick have arrived. Time for you to skedaddle.”

This time she shoved Bettina out the door, and locked it behind her.

How dare she!

I’ll sue,
Bettina fumed.
I’ll fight her in every court in California! I’ll—

A woman tapped her on the shoulder. “Excuse me. You’re Bettina Connaught-Cross, aren’t you?” She stuttered the question in a hushed, reverent tone, then backed away slightly, wrapping her arm around her husband.

Both were young, happy, and…

Pregnant.

Perfect,
thought Bettina.

She lifted her head and deigned them with a regal smile. “Yes, I am. So nice to meet you, Mrs. and Mr…” She paused, and tilted her head in what she hoped gave off the impression of true interest.

“I’m Candy McIntosh, and this is my husband, Richard.” She pushed him forward a bit. “We—I mean, I’ll soon be applying for PHM&T, as you can see.” She patted her belly gently.

Bettina clapped her hands in mock glee. “How joyous! A boy, or a girl?”

“Girl,” the proud father-to-be piped in. “We’re due in April.”

“How wonderful! And all the more so, because you are also Tibetan mastiff lovers!” Then her smile faded. “What a shame! From the applicants we’ve already received for your birth year of Onesies, the girls are outnumbering the boys two to one.”

The woman blanched. The glimmer of hope died in her eyes.

“I am
so
sorry! But the good news is you’ll have your wonderful little puppy to console your baby. And it will grow into a superior watch dog. A godsend, considering the company your baby will be keeping in some of those other playgroups. Sadly, my own little girl—Lily, only four—won’t be getting the sweet boy puppy she’d hoped for.”

Bettina felt a tear in her eye.
I’m
crying
? What an odd sensation…

The woman patted Bettina’s arm sympathetically.

To Bettina’s delight, she was able to squeeze out yet another tear. Seeing it peek out from under Bettina’s long lashes, the woman motioned her husband to one side.

Their whispered discussion was heated, but short. Bettina caught the words, “…feel so sorry for her…” from the wife, and “…make a deal…” from the husband.

“How mortifying!” the wife hissed back. “Why, she’d be insulted—”

“Excuse me,” Bettina interjected. “I couldn’t help overhearing. And yes, I’d be honored to accept your male pup...” She paused. “And I’m just as honored to champion your application to our application committee.”

The wife’s fist pump was a bit déclassé, but Bettina forgave it in light of what she was to receive in return: total domination.

To her mind, admission to PHM&T was a fair trade.

“Lily, dear, come down here, quickly! He’s come! You’re little prince has arrived!”

The leitmotif of Tchaikovsky’s
Swan Lake Ballet
, wafting from Lily’s second-floor room, suddenly went silent. A moment later Lily was running down the grand staircase. “A prince—
here?
Where, Mummy? Where?”

Bettina held up the furry auburn puppy with both hands, as if he were the successor to the lion king. “Here my darling! Let me introduce you to Prince Vsevolod Ivanovich!”

Lily stopped mid-way on the stairs to stare at the little bundle of fur squirming in her mother’s arm.

From the disappointed look on her face, her mother realized this was not the prince her daughter was expecting.

Also not anticipated was the warm stream of urine trickling out of the puppy and down Bettina’s arm, baptizing her brand new Joseph Altuzarra striped linen blazer.

She screamed as she dropped the puppy on the foyer’s plush Oriental rug. It whined mournfully as it scurried off for cover in the direction of Art’s study.

Good,
Bettina thought.
I hope it takes a crap in there.

From Art’s angry shout a few moments later, she guessed it had done just that.

Lily stared at her mother, mortified. “Mummy, whatever made you think I wanted a dog? I like cats. Oh, and ponies, too!” Shaking her head in dismay, she flew back up the staircase, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

Bettina collapsed on the rug, weeping. The
Pas de Deux
commenced again. It was fitting background music for her despair. More importantly, it drowned out her sobs.

She had wanted Prince Vsevolod to be the surprise love of Lily’s life.

No, in truth
she
wanted to be the love of Lily’s life. She wanted Lily to adore and revere
her.

She wanted Art’s love and admiration as well.

Once, a long time ago, she presumed he did love her. Had she only imagined that? Maybe he had never loved her. Maybe he had only married her for her money.

She buried her head in her hands.

“Bettina, what the hell were you thinking?”

She looked up to find Art standing over her. He was holding Prince Vsevolod Ivanovich by the scruff of the pup’s neck.

How dare he.

“Put him down.
Now.
” Her tone was low and menacing.

Art hesitated, but did as he was told. The puppy trembled, but stayed put.

“Now, down on all fours!” Bettina’s command left no doubt she meant business.

Both the dog and Art looked at her uncomprehendingly. “Bettina, I don’t think—”

“You’re right, Art.
You don’t think.
” She rose to her feet. “If you had half a brain, you would never have had an affair with Kelly. Or any number of other women, too, I presume.”

The accusation hit its mark. He dropped his head in shame.

Then he dropped to his knees as commanded.

She kicked off a kitten-heel pump.

Her whack was so hard that it dropped him on his elbows.

With the second hit, he fell over.

She bent down and murmured, “Resume the position…again.”

He nodded slowly. “I think…I think it would be wise if we had a safety word.”

“Okay, sure.” Bettina thought for a moment. “It will be Prince Vsevolod.”

He winced. “That’s a bit wordy. How do you spell it, anyway?”

His impertinence earned him another whack.

Then another, and another, until he was groaning in pain.

Or was it pleasure?

When he pulled her onto the rug beside him, she had her answer.

His kiss was so deep she was lightheaded.

She was aroused.

She pushed him off, but she didn’t hit him again.

In truth, she couldn’t. The kitten heel had flown off.

Should I suggest we go into the bedroom and make love?
She wondered.

No, she couldn’t. Not with Lily awake and on the same floor.

Not in the bed where Kelly’s ghost taunted her.

Fuck Kelly.

And fuck Art, too. But not tonight.

I’ll make him beg for it,
she vowed.

Right then and there she realized her shoe budget was going to go through the roof.

And for once, Art wouldn’t complain about it.

Thursday, 14 February

“Christian hates me, doesn’t he?” Ally murmured to Barry as she straightened his tuxedo bowtie.

“Yes, dear. So sorry, but it’s true. But if it’s any consolation, he hates me even more. After all, I should be spending Valentine’s Day with him, alone. Instead, I gave in to you.” Barry shrugged, but kept the smile on his face, so that anyone observing them would presume their hosts were congratulating each other for pulling off a fabulous gathering.

Christian is upstairs babysitting Zoe while the love of his life is playing my beard,
Ally thought. “I’m so sorry, Barry. Once again I’ve let the club get in the way of our real lives.”

Barry smiled. “I’m hoping your pie idea takes off like gangbusters, so that you’re too busy for all this silliness.” He wrapped his arm around her. “Don’t worry about Christian. He took a whole bottle of champagne upstairs with him. Now that Zoe is asleep, I’m sure he’s watching
Revenge
reruns and drowning his sorrows in a 1995 Clos Du Mesnil.” He looked out at the crowd. “By the way, dear, you were right! Remove the folding doors between our two living rooms, and we’ve got an instant ballroom.”

All evening long, the fifty PHM&T members and their husbands flowed easily through the large, open space. The caterers had set up one a bar in one of the kitchens and prepared tasty appetizers in the other, which were offered on trays by waiters dressed in tuxedos and red bowties.