DATE:February 18, 2019
SUBJECT:RE: My aunt, Vivian Bordelon
TO:Josephine Bordelon
Dear Josie,
I feel so privileged that you thought to ask me to join you in supporting the Vivian Bordelon Scholarship. When I was a child my mother was traveling all the time and your aunt Viv acted as the mother I never really had. She made sure I had treats to bring to my class when it was my birthday and she came to all my school band concerts (which, trust me, was an act of love because I was a terrible flute player). She was even the one to take me to the dentist when I knocked my two front teeth out climbing the jungle gym. My own mother was in Morocco, but Viv was right there holding my hand.
Is $30,000 a year enough or would you rather do $35,000? I’m not sure what tuition is these days. Whatever is necessary to make this happen, let’s do it and do it right.
With much appreciation for being included,
Beatrice
I run a victory lap around the kitchen table, raisin’ the roof. Aunt Viv is going to bust a gut when I present her with the Vivian Bordelon Scholarship at Viva la Viv. Who’s the master negotiator now, Aunt Viv? Me, that’s who! Well, I really didn’t have to negotiate much to make this happen. Okay, I didn’t have to negotiate at all. Beatrice Pembrook is, in fact, the gem that Meredith Lawton rambles on and on about, I have to give her that. I push to the back of my brain how I’m going to need to explain this to Nan when her permanent lockjaw drops to the floor at the party. Instead I call Lola. The Nan conundrum can wait for another day.
•••
Monday mornings are my drop-off duty at Fairchild. I enjoy standing in front of the school welcoming students to a new week as they tumble out of their Teslas. As I walk through the grand foyer to the front doors this Monday morning, I see Nan slipping into her office. I pop my head in uninvited and unannounced by Elsamyassistant. Early this morning after an extra-large cup of inspirational coffee I decided I’m going to bury Nan in kindness and compliments in the days leading up to the party. If I’m on my best behavior now, perhaps there’s a chance she won’t go ballistic on me later when she finds out about the scholarship in front of the Fairchild community. That’s all I got for a viable Nan-handling strategy, so now is as good a time as any to kick it off.
“Hey, Nan, I’m heading out front for drop-off duty, you want to tag along with me?”
“Wha—!” I startle Nan unintentionally. “Did Elsamyassistant tell you to come in unannounced?” Nan asks flustered as she sets her weekly peonies arrangement down on her desk. “I need to talk with her about protocol. She’s been particularly loose on her duties as of late.”
“Elsa isn’t out front, Nan, I just thought you might like to comesay hello to some students with me. Come on, hanging out with the kids is the best way to start a Monday morning.” Already the hard work of being fake nice is exhausting me.
“Well, I don’t know, there’s so much for me to do here...”
“If you come with me I’ll tell you what I found out about the valuation of the Stuarts’ company. Remember, they’re on your acceptance list.”
“I just knew I picked the right families for next year! I swear I have a sixth sense for who will truly be able to help Fairchild become the best day school in America.” Nan bangs her fist on her desk, the exclamation point to her perceived personal triumph.
“Let’s go, I’ll give you all the juice out front.” Not even the strongest of educators can resist a little gossip; Nan concedes.
“Alright, ten minutes, but then I must catch up with Elsamyassistant to review my hectic week.”
Nan and I push open the heavy eighteenth-century bronze double doors that serve as the main entry into Fairchild Country Day. Originally a mansion from the Gold Rush, as the school grew, Dr. Pearson did a beautiful job adding modern wings to the historic home. Nan likes to trash talk the multiple renovations Dr. Pearson did, butArchitectural Digesthas twice written articles that beg to differ.
“Good morning, Annie, have a great day at school! Myles, I can’t wait to see your presentation on Islamic art. Sean, how’d the lacrosse tournament go this weekend?” Nan watches as I greet each of the children who stumble over growing feet in a rush to embrace best friends, and hustle along the stragglers who are taking their own sweet time getting to their classrooms.
“You seem to know a lot about these children,” Nan states—an observation more than a compliment.
“For me, that’s the fun of working in a school, being around the kids and learning all about who they are. Kids are pretty hilariousand entertaining.” How you become a head of school if you don’t enjoy the company of children is beyond me. Nan shifts uncomfortably in her Ferragamos.
“I prefer to focus on the parents. Now, tell me, what is it that you know about the sale of the Stuart company that I don’t?”
“Give it a try, Nan, chat up one student for kicks and giggles and then I’ll give you all the intel, promise.” I can almost see dollar signs in her irises.
“Fine. I think I recognize these two girls coming up the stairs now. Good morning, ladies, I trust that you slept well, had a good breakfast, and are ready to work hard today?” Nan smiles tersely, keeping her distance, so it’s understood there will be no physical contact.
“Nan, this is my daughter, Etta, and her best friend, Poppy. They’ve been here since kindergarten.”
“Oh, yes, well, I knew I recognized her,” Nan strains out, nodding to the three of us. “Now, back inside, Josie, so we can talk. Can’t waste time chitchatting on the front steps of school all day, can we?”
“I’m right behind you, Nan.” I shake my head in defeat.
“Mama, when I leave next year I don’t wanna hear onTMZabout some crazy lady who offed her boss and tossed her in the Bay. If I do, I’ll know it’s you,” Etta warns me, even though she knows she isn’t exactly at the top of my favorite people list right now, either.
