“Welcome, Elyse,” the group of women chimes as Aubrey and I take seats at the outdoor dining table. I force a smile and wave, anxiety and discomfort settling in again.
Kat takes the next minute to introduce Aubrey and me to each of the women in the group—there are nine in all. Most seem to be within a few years of Kat’s age, with only one being younger—somewhere in her forties if I had to guess. They’re all poised and polite, just like Kat.
“We’re so thrilled to have you in The Society,” one of the women, Jacquelyn, says.
“Oh—I haven’t agreed to join or anything, I just thought the invitation was interesting so—”
“Oh, honey, you’re here—you accepted the invitation—that means you’re in.” Kat pats my knee under the table. The unexpected touch gives me a chill that I can’t explain.
“Oh... I didn’t realize... I thought I was just coming to check things out this weekend.” I stumble through my words.
“Trust me, these are some of the most well-connected women in the city. Kathryn is the head of pediatrics at Mount Sinai. Jacquelyn and Susan have been at Goldman Sachs for thirty years—Susan is one of the first women traders in a man’s world. And Martha has been the head of fashion merchandising at Bergdorf’s for just as long—it’s so inspiring. The connections and networking we can provide alone make it worth it,” Kat says. “Events, fundraisers, galas—and every one an opportunity to climb the ladder.”
“I’m not really into networking—I don’t care about that at all, actually. I was just looking to make some new friends and maybe do some charity events...”
“Oh, you’ll make the best friends of your life in The Society,” Kat assures me. “And many of us have found a sense of purpose that was lacking before.”
“If you don’t join us we’ll have an empty spot for the next year. We’re all so stretched thin already—we really need someone to be boots on the ground for some charity work that we’ve had to turn down,” Jacquelyn explains.
I pause before replying because it all sounds good—too good to be true. “May I ask—how did you find me?”
Kat’s eyebrows rise for a moment before her smile grows. “Well, we have a selective nomination process and our membership is capped at a dozen members at any given time. We’vespent the last year searching for just the right candidate after our last member moved to West Palm. Each of us nominate a few people we’ve come into contact with who we think would be a good fit with the group. Sometimes it’s through social settings or work or even media coverage—Susan was nominated by Jacquelyn when they met at a work party years ago. Things just fall into place sometimes—you know how it goes. I believe in serendipity, don’t you?” Kat says.
“So who nominated me?” I ask, feeling more confused than ever.
“Well, that was me. I came across your name in relation to your time at Columbia so I did some digging and thought your set of skills and talents would be a great fit for us.” Kat smiles politely.
“My skills?” I push for more.
“Well, with finance and things.” Kat’s grin looks forced. I get the sense that I’m asking too many questions. “So much business talk—we usually like to spend the first evening catching up. It’s been a few months since we’ve had a ladies’ weekend.” She turns to a sixty-something dark-haired woman across the table. “Tell us, Joan, how have you been since the last time we saw you?”
The woman—Joan—glances at her hands in her lap. “Not great.”
Tears instantly well in her dark eyes before she takes a tissue from her bag and wipes at her face. “John has been distant since Savannah... left us.” Joan sniffs, more tears welling. “I think we’re both still in shock. I’ve been seeing my therapist twice a week and going to the grief group that she recommended, but it still feels so unreal. I still wake up every morning and have the urge to send Savannah a morning text message, and then Iremember she’ll never get it. That she’s gone, my child is dead, and I’m supposed to just move on.”
I sit in stunned silence, taking in the pain this woman has endured.
“It’s still fresh, honey. No one here is asking you to move on.” Kat pats her hand across the table.
“It’s been six weeks since the funeral and it hasn’t gotten any easier,” Joan gasps. “It’s like my mind refuses to believe the reality of losing her.”
“That makes sense; there’s no greater loss than the death of a child.” Kat’s face is the picture of sympathy.
“Especially when it’s sudden,” Jacquelyn joins in.
“But maybe I should have seen it coming. I mean—how didn’t I? I know my daughter the best.”
“That changes when they go to college, though—it’s out of our hands then. They’re surrounded by new people and living on their own for the first time...”
“Yes, but she was at Columbia. She was just across the city—we saw her most weekends. I should have known after the troubles she had.” Joan cries softly. “She went through so much the last year.”
“She went to Columbia?” I chime in.
Kat nods. “She was pre-law.”
I nod, feeling Joan’s anguish at the loss of her daughter coming in waves from across the table.
“I hate the man that did that to her—I think about revenge. I fantasize about hurting him—about taking everything from him like he did to me.” Joan wipes at more tears.
