Aaron stayed with us until Sunday, when he and his father got together to figure things out. From what Aaron told me later, there were tears and accusations and explanations and apologies and hugs and more tears and more hugs . . . and the end result was pretty much what Aaron had prophesied: blood proved thicker than the wedding band Crystal had worn for a year and a half, and Michael found forgiveness in his heart for his son but not his wife.
He and Aaron moved into a suite at a hotel and left Crystal, Megan, and the baby in the beautiful, big house.
They’re working out the details, Aaron texted me, when I hadn’t seen him for a few days and wanted to know how it was going. She’ll prob get the house. We’ll find somewhere else to live. The Peninsula’s nice for now tho.
You and your dad good?
Good an overstatement but we’re ok.
Ever see Crystal?
No. Wouldn’t do that to Dad
Too bad he hadn’t felt that way about it from the start.
I had kept my word about not telling anyone (other than Heather), but Grandma read a lot of celebrity gossip blogs, and she grabbed me when I walked in the door after school one day and stuck her phone screen in my face.
“Look at this!” she said. “Look at this!”
The headline on the article was:
Music and TV Producer Michael Marquand and Wife Separating
“Is this why Aaron was staying with us?” she said, then—to my relief—continued without waiting for a response. “I don’t blame him for wanting to escape. There’s nothing worse than being in a house with a fighting couple. Poor kid.”
I was happy to have that be the explanation.
Luke and Mom heard about the separation around the same time. Mom mentioned that Michael had called them in London to let them know that he and Crystal were splitting up and that he would tell them more in person. I didn’t offer to supply any additional details.
They came home the Saturday before Thanksgiving, and after we’d had dinner and they told me some stories about their trip, Luke left to go see Michael.
“What about Crystal?” I asked Mom after he’d gone. We were tucked up together under the covers in her bed. She was exhausted from the trip and time difference, but wanted to talk. Grandma was putting Jacob to bed. “You going to go see her?”
“Not right away,” she said, rubbing her cheek sleepily against her pillow. “I want to enjoy being home for a little while. And also . . .” She sighed. “We really weren’t that close. There’s always been this wall with her that I couldn’t get past. And I don’t like the way she stares at Jacob when he’s crying—she gives him this cold fish eye and then glares at me like I’m a bad mother.”
“You may be projecting,” I said.
“Maybe. God knows I can be hypersensitive.”
“Besides, you’re a much better mother. You know that, right? You actually take care of us. She always seems annoyed when someone hands Mia to her, like she shouldn’t be her responsibility.”
“At least they’ve got Megan. It’s okay to be a bad mother if you have a good nanny.”
“Can I quote you on that?” I asked. “The tabloids would have a field day with it.”
“Let that be the worst quote they ever get out of me.” She shifted her legs under the covers. “So what do you think happened with Michael and Crystal? Did Aaron tell you anything about why they’re splitting?”
I didn’t want to lie to my mother. And I really wanted to talk to her about it. But I had promised to keep Aaron’s secret. Of course, if she guessed, it wouldn’t be my fault.
“I think she maybe had an affair,” I said carefully.
Mom seemed suddenly more awake. She wiggled up to a sitting position. “Who with?”
“I think he was a younger guy.”
“Younger than her or younger than Michael?”
“Both?” I said it like I wasn’t sure; the word was honest, even if my tone wasn’t. “But I didn’t really want to ask Aaron a lot of questions about it.” True enough, right?
“Right. We probably shouldn’t pry.” A pause. “I met her trainer at the Halloween party—I got a weird vibe from him, like he was a little too comfortable there.”
“Interesting,” I said. “Now tell me more about London. Did you go to Harrods?”
Luke stayed out late with Michael, and when he got back, he knocked on my door and asked if we could talk.
Michael had told him everything. “I’m confused,” Luke said, pacing the floor of my bedroom, his hands thrust in his jeans pockets, deep shadows under his eyes that could have been cast by the dim light or printed there by his exhaustion and the time change. “We all thought the two of you were going out—I mean, at Halloween he couldn’t keep his hands off you. That kiss—”
“I know,” I said, cutting him off. “Halloween was weird—I guess he was trying to make everyone think he and I were going out, to cover up what was really going on—but there’s never been anything between us other than friendship. That kiss was basically a joke.”
“So I don’t have to hate him?”
“Not for my sake. But maybe for Michael’s?”
He shook his head. “Michael blames Crystal, not Aaron. Which I get—she was the married adult in the situation.” An enormous yawn carved a hole in his face. “God, I’m tired. If you’re fine, then I’m going to bed. To my bed. I’m so happy to be home.”
“Hold on.” I smiled my most beguiling smile. “Now that you’re back, I have a favor to ask you.”
“And fear enters his heart. . . .”
“This one’s easy.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“I just need you to call Elton College on Monday and tell them they should accept both me and Heather. I mean, not in those words. You have to be diplomatic about it—just tell them that you’re . . . you know . . . who you are . . . and that your stepdaughter and her friend are both applying and then say something like you just wanted to make sure they got our applications and they’re complete—or whatever. It probably doesn’t really matter what you say—just so long as they know that Luke Weston is on the phone. And maybe mention that you’d be willing to perform if I got in there. . . .”
“Ellie . . .” he said, and I could tell from his tone he didn’t immediately love the idea. Which meant I’d have to talk him into it.
“It’ll take you five minutes,” I said. “Maybe less. They just need to hear your voice.”
“Would you even want to go to a college that only let you in because someone famous called?”
“It’s what happened with high school, right? Coral Tree let me in after they saw you—”
“You were a good candidate,” he said. “Straight As at your middle school and you rocked those ISEEs. That’s why they let you in. I didn’t ask them for any special consideration.”
“Yeah, but you went on the tour and they got excited.”
“I went on the tour because I wanted to see the school. Not to impress them.”
I clasped my hands together and shifted to my knees. I couldn’t believe he was saying no. “Please, Luke. You have to. It could make the difference between getting in and not.”
“Your scores are incredible and so’s your GPA,” he said. “You’ll get in on your own—if not there, then somewhere else—and that’s a lot better than getting in because you have a famous relative.”
I let my hands drop. “It’s not me I’m worried about,” I said. “It’s Heather.”
“Why?”
“She’s just . . .” I stopped. Then I said reluctantly, “Her scores and her grades aren’t great.”
“Then maybe she shouldn’t get in,” Luke said. “If there are stronger students, is it really fair for her to get in over them because she knows me? Wouldn’t that be a lousy way for college admissions to work?”
“Oh, don’t get all idealistic on me,” I said, irritable because I did kind of agree with him. But not enough to back down. “People pull strings all the time. So why not us?”
“Because it’s wrong,” he said. “And because I have faith my brilliant girl will get in without my help. And her friend will, too—if she deserves to. Good night, Ellie.” He left.
I dropped back onto my bed, now truly worried about Heather’s chances of getting in early. I had banked so much on this one phone call, sure that Luke would make it for me. He always did what I wanted. I was in shock that he’d refused. And kind of embarrassed that I’d asked.
I was beginning to regret pushing Heather so hard to apply there with me. Now that I didn’t have any way to actually help her, I was scared I might have steered her right into the path of a painful rejection.
The next morning Mom wouldn’t stop talking about Aaron and Crystal (Luke had filled her in on the situation) until I finally lost patience and said, “You seem a little too obsessed with this whole younger-man thing. Luke getting too long in the tooth for you?”
“Stop it,” she said. “I’m not obsessed with it. I’m horrified by it.”
Grandma was in the kitchen with us, mixing some hot grain cereal at the stove and looking not unlike a witch stirring a cauldron in her long purple bathrobe. She said, “Every married woman fantasizes about sleeping with a single young man.”
“No, they don’t!” Mom said.
“They’re just not honest about it.” Grandma rapped her spoon on the side of the pot to clear it. “People aren’t truthful about their emotions. That’s what gets everyone in trouble. If we can recognize that even our worst thoughts are natural, we don’t have to act on them. Repression causes bad behavior. Everyone knows that.”
“I’m repressing something right now,” Mom muttered.