Penny lowered her voice even further. "Ian had a gently worded talk with me about how he's not twenty-five, and I'm going to kill him."
"You're not subconsciously trying to have another baby, are you?" I asked cautiously.
She shook her head. "No. Oh my god, twins? And college? While pregnant? I don't think so."
"Don't you have Ian taking care of the babies now?" Deja asked.
Holli chimed in, "Yeah, I thought he retired."
"He did. And he does take care of them when I'm in class. But he's also working on our house." Penny's husband, Ian, was substantially older than her and a successful architect. So successful that he'd been able to retire at fifty-four to be a stay-at-home dad.
That hadn't been Neil's plan, but he'd ended up doing the same thing.
"You're quiet, Sophie," Deja said, tilting her head.
"I'm just listening." I didn't have any mommy problems to share. "It's nice to be with people who have normal parenting problems."
"Yeah, how did that all...go?" Deja asked, glancing at Holli.
"I would rather not talk about it." Not because they weren't good listeners, or I thought I didn’t need their counsel. I didn’t want them to think less of me when they found out what I’d said. And I confessed it to them; my guilt was too great. "I just don't want to relive the magical moment when I used Valerie's dead daughter as a weapon because I'm a trash monster."
"Oh no…" Penny said softly.
"Yeah. So. Let's talk about something—" My phone buzzed. "It's Mariposa. Hang on."
I stood and headed toward the front of the restaurant. I hated taking calls inside, even in the winter. I hit the button as I walked and said, “Just a second." Once on the street, I answered properly. "Mariposa? Are you still there?"
"I'm at the urgent care. Not with Olivia!" she added quickly. "I cut my hand, and I need four stitches. I can't leave to pick up Olivia from school."
"Shit. I’m in the city. Did you try Neil?" I winced at my question. Of course, she had; she would have known he’d be closer to the school.
"El-Mudad said he was in Connecticut?"
At the racing club. Great timing, Neil. "But El-Mudad is home?"
"He’s not listed on her contact card." Mariposa sounded increasingly worried.
What the fuck is a contact card? Am I even on it? I checked the time on my phone. "Okay. I can do this, right? They'll let her leave with me?"
"You're her legal guardian, so yes," Mariposa said patiently. "I'm so sorry. I really am. I can call the service, but I'm not sure—"
"The service doesn't have a helicopter, and you're bleeding. Don't worry. Let us know if you need anything."
After we hung up, I realized I hadn't asked her how it had happened. I would get the story later, but I prayed it didn't have to do with anything naughty Olivia had done. Either way, I would apologize my ass off for being so self-focused while she was having an emergency.
I rushed back into the restaurant. "Hey, I have to go. I have to get down to the helipad because the nanny’s getting stitches, and there's no one to pick up Olivia."
"Are you going to be able to make it?" Holli asked. "Not that I could do anything about it if you couldn't."
"Can't Neil get her?" Penny suggested. "He's in Sagaponack, right?"
"No. He's at the track. The only person at home is El-Mudad, and he can't get her because he's not a legal guardian, and we didn't list him on something called a contact card." Ugh, that was so inconvenient. "What if something happened to one of El-Mudad's kids, and we couldn't help?"
"Maybe he put you down as their contacts," Holli suggested.
I knew she didn’t mean to shame me for neglecting to do so with him, but that’s how my guardian-fail brain took the comment.
"Okay, I'm heading out. Sorry to cut it short. And sorry to cut out on the bill." Usually, I picked up the tab because while the four of us were all financially secure as hell, I had more dough. "I'll Venmo you, Holli?"
"Yup, I've got it."
"I cannot wait for the freaking party." Penny groaned. "I crave grown-up interaction. Brunches are not enough. You’re coming, right, Sophie?"
"As far as I know, I will be." The party to celebrate Lana Del Rey's July Mode cover was in March, but March was July in the magazine world. The Elwood Rape Crisis Center had paired with the magazine to organize a joint fundraiser capitalizing on the star power that would be present at the party.
The further I got from my fashion journalism career, the more grateful I was to have left it behind. But I was super glad I still had an in at all the fancy parties.
I texted our pilot and my driver, and after a quick round of hugs and goodbyes, I dashed for the door.