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  Victoria answered with a jab. “Chloe acts like Kate’s job is such a big deal. Even if she had potential, a long time ago, she threw it all away. You do know that she’s just an administrator, right? She’s a glorified secretary. Whatever.”

  He shrugged and said, “Certainly they figured out how intelligent she eeez and how very personable.”

  “What good does it do anyone to be intelligent or personable when it doesn’t materialize into real success?”

  “Eeen any case, I’d like to see her sometime,” he said casually, exhaling a plume of smoke all over Vicki’s white walls, carpet, and couch, “just to catch up, you know? As I said before, we should all be friends again.”

  “Why?” she asked, teeth clenched to the point of breaking. “What do you want to know? I mean, yes, she’s doing swell without you. She has a job, she’s probably seeing someone, whatever, why do you even care?”

  Robert stood there, glass of wine in his hand, skinny jeans on his ass, and said, “Victoria, what eeez ze problem?”

  “Nothing. There’s no fucking ze problem.”

  He flicked his ashes into a saucer, saying, “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, darleeeng. Eeet makes you look ugly.”

  “I have a boyfriend,” Kate announced.

  Maureen was in the middle of printing out the final RSVP list of families who had signed up for spring tours. “So?” she asked.

  “Well, you said once that if I met a new guy, you’d be happy to hear about him.”

  “You misunderstood.”

  “He lives in the apartment below me.”

  “Does your girlfriend know about this?” Maureen asked.

  “All this time,” Kate said, “we’ve just bickered in the stairwell. I thought he was uptight and stodgy; we couldn’t possibly have gotten off to a less passionate, less amorous start. And the thing is I always thought it was important to get crazy and carried away over someone right from the beginning. But Robert swept me off my feet and look how badly that turned out. With Jonathan, I find the more I get to know him, the more I like him, and do you know what happened last night? He said the exact same thing about me.”

  “Your phone’s ringing.”

  “Jonathan is thoughtful and a little nerdy in the best way, and he loves to talk to me.”

  “He sounds weird.”

  “I can be myself around him, which is such a relief. He’s smart and funny, and it turns out, he’s the most romantic guy imaginable.”

  “And the sex?”

  Kate smiled. “You are too nosy, do you know that?” she said, turning to go back to her office. “Just prying in my personal life all the time. Stop getting all up in my business.”

  “Your business does not interest me,” Maureen called after her. “You don’t even have any business. Like I don’t have better things to be doing?”

  Kate went back to her desk and saw she had, in fact, missed a call. She listened to the voice mail and then played it over again at least ten times. It was the saddest, most desperate drunk-dial message she’d ever heard. She played it for Maureen, who didn’t find it sad at all.

  “Scary maybe,” she said, “but not sad. Silvia Blake has gone off the deep end. I told you New York City parents are batshit crazy.”

  Henry listened twice and contacted the school’s lawyers, who archived the clip and issued Silvia and Kenneth Blake a cease and desist order.

  “You think you’re really something, don’t you? You think you’re so powerful? You’re just some stupid bitch girl who goes around ruining people’s lives. You think you’re God, don’t you? You think you’re God with your little computer, sending your stupid letters like you’re in charge of everybody and [indecipherable] key to the gate, like you’re some goddamn bouncer bitch who gets to decide, and you’re standing at the door choosing [indecipherable]? Well, you lose, lady, because Dillon would have been the best thing that ever happened to you and you’re too dumb to get it. I hope you get hit by a cab. Good. Bye.”

  Huge mistake. Angela got a stupid, springtime idea in her head that she would look like a younger and cuter new mom with a short, pixie haircut. It turned out she didn’t. She was on maternity leave with too much unstructured time on her hands, most of which she spent looking in the mirror, tugging on the ends (as if that would help), and begging it to grow in faster. Turned out it didn’t.

  When she first walked in the apartment with the new hairdo, Grace started crying. Angela locked herself in the bathroom and started crying, too, which made Emily cry. Doug stood in the midst of all the tears, telling Angela how much he liked it, how pretty she looked, which was a big lie, one she could see right through because Doug never knew when to stop talking. He stood at the bathroom door making choice comments like “Of course I love it, sweetheart; it’s the same haircut I always get.” She wrapped her head up in a scarf and emerged from the bathroom, only to hear, “Wow, honey—you look exactly like your mother.”

  It was a hideous haircut, boyish and severe in the worst way. One needed serious cheekbones to pull off hair this short, and Angela didn’t have them. It will grow back became her mantra. In the meantime, she just didn’t want to get stuck thinking about it every time she was sitting on the couch breastfeeding. She needed to keep her mind occupied on something else. As much as she appreciated the time at home with Emily and Grace, she missed her bustling, productive days in the office. She missed having a project to keep her busy, so she decided to come up with one.

  Project #1: Kate. Angela suspected that she had something going on with her boss, and it had to stop. Kate always denied it, but she talked about him all the time. Henry this and Henry that. She had spent the month of February “working late” with him every night. She’d accepted not one, not two, but three dinner invitations, and those were just the ones she’d told Angela about. She was rushed every time they spoke, like she was avoiding talking to her, and even when she came by to meet Grace, she had some excuse to leave after only a few minutes. Angela knew what Angela knew. This man who was so “supportive” and full of compliments was obviously trying to get in her sister’s pants. How could Kate not understand the implications of something like that? Why didn’t she have better judgment?

  Angela felt a need to develop a Plan B, in case the entire situation exploded and Kate either quit or got fired. She wanted to plant a seed of ambition, get Kate thinking about an eventual return to academia. She got on her computer to search the NYU anthropology website to see what would be involved in the process of reapplying, when she noticed that her father was online. He was a newcomer to Facebook, and he had gotten thoroughly carried away posting selfies, poems, and random observations from wherever he happened to be on his sabbatical. Angela thought it was embarrassing, because who cares about his thoughts on the founding of the National University of Córdoba? And who wants to see pictures of a bookstore in Buenos Aires? A bookstore that looked to Angela like every other bookstore she’d ever been in. She was planning to instruct him on better Facebook practices, until she saw that he had 1,184 friends.

  In taking charge of Kate’s future, Angela figured it made good sense to get her parents on board, to enlist their help. After all, they had every reason to want to see Kate launch a successful return to their professional world.

  She clicked on his name.

  hey dad

  Ahoy there, Angela. Greetings.

  all ok?

  Magnificent. How are your little ones?

  great. and mom?

  A dynamo.

  i was thinking . . .

  A worthy activity.

  maybe time for kate to start thinking about grad school

  as in again

  back on the horse

  hello?

  dad???

  Yes?

  could you make some calls, see if you can connect her w someone you know in her area?

  get her motivated, excited to go back?

  Mmm, don’t think so.

  i know she’s been ou
t of academia awhile, but I’m sure there’s something you can do

  Eu não entendo.

  what?

  She likes her job, yes?

  it’s not something she’ll want to do forever.

  isn’t a return to anthropology the long term goal?

  For whom?

  ? for kate who else?

  No, I don’t think so.

  why not?

  She’s happy.

  maybe now, but down the road . . .

  If it ain’t broke . . .

  don’t you think she should go back?

  To bio-anth?

  yes

  No.

  wait why not?

  She hated it.

  what? no she didn’t

  She did.

  And to be honest it wasn’t her strength.

  meaning . . .?

  She lacked the requisite skills.

  ???????????

  not what her college profs thought

  That was college, not life.

  what’s the difference?

  The quality of the food.

  dad. be serious.

  In that case: she’d be better in something related to social psych. More human, with a focus on the present. She needs to share ideas and be engaged with people, living ones, not dead ones. Analyzing dry bones makes for a very solitary life.

  Why not stay where she is now?

  i just assumed

  Is a return to anthropology her idea or yours?

  mine

  Ah. I see.

  ?

  Let’s let Kate take charge of her own journey. She is navigating through obstacles, and she may get tripped up on them, but I assure you she will make it through in the end.

  not sure what you mean by any of that but i disagree. strongly

  At every meal in Deutschland they ask if you want your water flat or “mit Gas.” You my dear are flat. Kate has gas. We need both kinds. We need loan analysts as well as carbonated people who jazz around. The bubbles may look out of control, but ultimately they know in which direction they’re going.

  i’m flat?

  As am I. Your mother on the other hand . . . She is highly effervescent.

  Must locate her as it is time for tea. Eu te amo, dear.

  Excuse me??

  Até a próxima vez.

  huh?

  Over and out.

  Incomprehensible. Misguided. And possibly insulting. But in any case, none of that talk solved the problem that Angela saw looming.

  She didn’t want to, but she called Victoria to ask what she had heard about Henry, which turned out to be absolutely nothing. She and Kate hadn’t spoken in months. Victoria sounded oddly pleased about the news of a possible affair, even after Angela explained that he was married.

  “But at least she’s moved on,” Victoria said. “That’s a very promising step.”

  “But this guy is old and has a wife, and he’s her boss. It’s a disaster.”

  “Aren’t you the one who introduced her to him?”

  “What? No, I only connected them. Professionally.”

  “Well, it shows she’s over Robert. Isn’t that what we wanted?”

  “I guess I wanted more than that,” Angela said. “Didn’t you?”

  Over her better judgment, Angela decided to call Chloe as well, but Chloe refused to believe that Kate was involved with her boss in any way that wasn’t professional. “Certainly not,” she said plainly. “It’s not true.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because she isn’t dating an older, married man she considers to be her mentor. No, it would be completely out of character for her. She has better sense than that and a conscience, too. And besides—she’s dating someone else. A guy I know.”

  Angela allowed a pregnant pause. “Chloe. The last time you set her up, it didn’t end well, to say the least.”

  “I never set her up!” Chloe said. “I introduced her, but thanks for bringing that up again, with all your facts messed up. This new guy, Jonathan, happens to be very nice, and he really likes her, and from what I understand, it’s mutual.”

  “It can’t be serious or I’d know about it, wouldn’t I?” Angela snapped back. “Kate would have told me. And I think—given what happened before with your despicable relative—it would be best if you didn’t meddle in her life.”

  The speech Chloe delivered next felt to Angela as though it had been rehearsed a few times over: “Listen to me—I fucked up. I wish I’d told her what Robert said to me before she got on the plane, but it’s not my fault he broke up with her. And it’s not my fault that he did it in such a terrible way. It was a long time ago, and I’m sick and tired of you blaming me for the whole thing. I happen to be a very good friend to her, and I always have been. She’s not dating her boss—I don’t know where you came up with that stupid idea. She’s working her ass off, she’s doing a great job, and she’s met a terrific guy who happens to live in her building. I know you don’t want her to be friends with me but she is, and we are, so get over it.” Just before the phone went dead, Angela heard a man’s voice saying, “Finally, babe! Good for you!”

  Dear Ms. Pearson,

  I apologize for the voice mail my wife, Silvia, left you. She was understandably very upset. She is taking some time to recuperate from the stress of the admissions season and is feeling much better now. I hope we can start again fresh.

  We need to talk to you, to hear from you what happened with Dillon’s application. All we need is a few minutes of your time. We have decided not to sue you or the school for your actions, although we probably could.

  Given what happened and the situation we’re now in as a result, we’re certainly entitled to an explanation. I’m sure you would agree that this is a fair request. Our family got completely screwed over, so I think you owe us at least that much.

  I would prefer you not mention this to Henry Bigley, as we have been asked to stop contacting anyone in the school.

  Kenneth Blake

  CEO Universacom

  To: Sherman

  From: Kate

  Subject: bon voyage

  * * *

  May I congratulate you, good sir? I’m sorry that the position at KU isn’t what you were hoping for (tenure-track wise), and I’m shocked, to be honest. But still, I’m happy that the Jayhawks recognized the value of you two lovebirds ;-) and that they snatched you both up in whatever way they could. Please tell Lakshmi congratulations on her Asst Prof post. As for you, I know that adjuncts are not treated as well as they should be, and I’m sorry they’re not offering benefits (yay, Obamacare), but you are a determined, passionate, invested, promising researcher, and I’m sure over time they’ll find you indispensible and, at some point, they (or another institution) will offer you the job you deserve. Yes, I promise to visit if I ever get to Kansas, and please, please look me up the next time you’re back in New York.

  Meanwhile—I hope the next 5 months of fieldwork at Laetoli yield fabulous data and some good memories as well. Godspeed!

  Be safe out there! And please keep in touch.

  Xxxooo

  K

  To: Kate Pearson

  From: Office of Kenneth Blake

  Subject: Meeting request

  * * *

  Dear Ms. Pearson,

  I am the administrative assistant for Mr. Blake. Please call or email me as soon as possible regarding the appointment Mr. Blake and his wife Silvia requested over a week ago. Mr. Blake is very busy, but he has asked me to find a time that is amenable to you.

  Sincerely,

  Sandra

  Picking Dillon up from school was the last thing Silvia planned on doing that day or was fit to manage. She was sprawled out in bed, watching episode after episode of The Real Housewives of Who-gives-a-fuck, having taken an indeterminate amount of time off from work to rest her tormented mind. That’s what the psychiatrist prescribed, rest and calm. And a cocktail of calming meds to take the edge off. No thinking about h
er clients, no thinking about anything at all. Silvia was in a nice, blank, bleary state, where she could exile the crisis and all of its hideous details to some unknown place in her mind, a place she could stay the hell away from.

  In the lovely haze of the afternoon, the babysitter called, saying she had the flu and couldn’t pick Dillon up from school.

  “You’re fine,” Silvia told her. “Just go get him and take him to the park. You can lie down on a bench.”

  “No way,” the babysitter said, hacking into the phone, “I can’t work today.”

  Silvia thought of calling Kenneth to explain the situation but decided against it. He didn’t need to be bothered with this nonsense. She was his young, energetic third wife; she was someone who could do it all. Being worried over, like she was some kind of invalid or something, felt all wrong. Kenneth used to brag about her being efficient and accomplished, but lately he’d been describing her with words like “fragile” and “unstable,” and she didn’t want to be those things. So to prove she wasn’t, she somehow got herself up, ordered an Uber, and arrived at the school gate, just as Tess jogged up wearing teensy shorts and a spray tan, dragging her stupid little dog behind her.

  “Hey, Silvia! Bonjour! Wow, you’re certainly dressed for winter.” Silvia had pulled her long fur coat on over her pajamas, assuming no one would notice that she hadn’t exactly groomed that day.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been in meetings, so how am I supposed to know spring came when no one bothered telling me?”

  “You okay?”

  “Of course,” Silvia said, pulling her coat around her. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

  “No, I just mean that I’m certainly stressed out—poor Annie has been to one school revisit after another, just wearing her out. I know it sounds spoiled, but it’s a burden to have so many choices.” Arms over her head, she stretched to the left side and then to the right. “And the pressure of deciding, of choosing the one, it’s just so hard, you know? She’s leaning toward Chapin right now, but other days she thinks she wants coed, and I’m hoping for Spence, but then again we both loved Riverdale. Oh! What to do?!”