“What are the kids up to these days?” Amber asks.
Ray and Meg look at each other and shrug. Like most parents their age—my age—they don’t quite understand what their kids do for a living. “Emily does something with software,” Meg tells me. “Designs it, I think.”
“No,” Ray corrects her. “I think she’s now into beta testing.”
“Oh, right,” Meg says. “Alice, our youngest, just graduatedand got a job doing analytics. And Connor was with a website, but now he’s working for a start-up.”
“What exactly is he starting up?” I ask.
“Haven’t the faintest,” she says.
If you’re starting up—or even just starting out—I bet it helps to have all that Taggart money behind you. And yes, Meg admits when I ask about it, it’s their family name on the local Taggart Park.
All four of them, the Taggarts and the Velasquezes, are rich, gorgeous, and classy. And so gracious to me, it’s hard to hate them.
“Forgive me for being rude,” Paulo says, looking at a gold watch the size of a pancake. “But we’re due at the tennis court in ten minutes.” As he and Ben leave, Amber turns to Felicia.
“Carol is feeling… a little under the weather,” she tells her. “Do you think Marianna would be able to take Lily into the pool?”
“Of course,” says Felicia. A few feet away, Marianna and little Bella Velasquez are playing hide-and-seek around the pool chairs. I catch Marianna’s eye and she waves to me. I carry Lily over and join them. Lily is wearing a cute two-piece bathing suit with giraffes on it. Still three minutes to go before she’s ready to get into the pool. I lift her onto a chaise and cover her little body with Thinkbaby SPF 50 sunblock. She giggles. It must tickle.
Marianna is tying orange water wings on Bella. “Coming in with us?” she asks.
“I can’t,” I say. “I didn’t bring a suit. Felicia said you might be able to help me out.”
“Happy to,” she says.
As she and Bella pop into the kiddie pool, I put Lily into a fresh swim diaper and hand her over to Marianna. She takes Lily with one arm, still holding Bella with the other. Together, the three of them swish side to side in the pool, all laughing. Suddenly, Marianna dunks Lily into the water so only the back of her head is visible. I hold my breath.
In the split second till I can get to the edge of the pool, a dozen worst-case scenarios run through my head.Lily will swallow water! Lily will have a lifetime of trust issues!
But no. Lily bobs right up, shaking the water off her face, giggling. Marianna dunks her again and again. She loves it. Marianna knew she would. She tells me that all babies have the instinct to hold their breath for a few seconds when their faces are submerged. As I sit in a lounge chair next to the empty stroller, I watch the three of them bob up and down. Marianna is amazing. She’s kind, energetic, and great with kids. Once again, I decide this is a job for a young person.
And not just because of my cellulite.
CHAPTER 26
A LITTLE BREEZE IS making its way across the club. It’s getting cooler. Time to leave the pool. Marianna hands Lily to me and I wrap her in a huge red-and-pink beach towel with only her head sticking out. She looks adorable, like a human enchilada.
Quickly, before she starts to cry for more swim time, I carry Lily into the ladies’ room to change her out of her wet suit. Like all of Somerset, the restroom is a study in elegance: white marble walls and sinks with cloth hand towels, several floor-to-ceiling private mahogany stalls, gold-encrusted mirrors, and fresh flowers everywhere. It would be the perfect place for a small wedding. Well, except for the toilets.
There’s even a separate baby-changing room with a shelf of all-natural, plant-based HealthyBaby diapers, wipes, creams, and lotions. As I slide Lily out of her wet swimwear and into a dry diaper and a fresh yellow onesie with tiny elephants, I hear voices coming from outside, a man arguing with a woman. Arguing, but not yelling. One-percenters don’t yell—they raise their eyebrows, not their voices—unless, like Ben, they’re in the privacy of their own home. The argument sounds very civilized, a flurry of sharp, staccato whispers. But it’s all in Spanish.
I listen harder. I’m pretty sure the woman is Felicia. And she’s arguing with… Ben? Could it be? Yes. The tone of voice tells me there’s a lot of anger behind the words.
Damn. Why didn’t I pay more attention in Señorita Fuente’s high-school Spanish class? I pick Lily up and move closer to the door. Now I can make out a few bits and pieces.
Ben says,“No puedo… contra.”(That’s “I can’t”… something.)
Felicia says,“Si, lo prometiste!”(“You promised!”)
“No es un buen momento,”says Ben. (“Not a good time.”)
Felicia again:“Dime cuando.”(“Tell me when.”)
Ben:“No sé.”(“I don’t know.”)
More words that I don’t understand. Then Felicia says,“No, él no sabe nada!”(“No, he knows nothing!”)
