Chapter Twenty-Two
It was Daisy’s firm opinion, seconded by Quinn, and confirmed by Shanna, that you really hadn’t lived until you witnessed a preschool graduation on a balmy May day.
It was too nice outside to be cooped up in the auditorium/multipurpose room. A day with the wild, blue, cloud-speckled skies that made you breathe deep and tip your face to the sun.
It was entirely possible that Daisy was adjusting to the vagaries, and the delights, of New England weather.
They were all seated together in the big yard. The same yard where, seven months ago, lives and spaceship costumes were forever altered. The irony of being here now did not escape anyone because it was all the same, and all so different.
Daisy, Rob, Quinn, Jamie, and Shanna had their own row—Shanna on the aisle because she was eight and a half months pregnant, and in her own words, “about to explode like a water balloon on hot pavement.” They watched as their almost four-year-olds and their classmates sang a song about their school (to the tune of “Bingo”).
We’re Little Wonders at our school,
And we are safe and happy
Learn our A-B-Cs
Colors, 1-2-3s
Manners, thank you, please
Becoming smart and strong.
It was not an exaggeration to say that there was not a dry eye in the yard.
“Thank you to our Tadpole Room!” Ms. Anna said, taking the stage once their class had finished their song, and all received their flowers (in lieu of diplomas) from Ms. Rosie. “They will be advancing to Ms. Mariet and the Iguana Room in the near future, and we are so happy to have been able to provide a loving and warm environment for them to learn and grow.”
The crowd burst into applause as the kids were ushered off the stage. It took a herculean effort by their teachers to keep the kids in line and not running to their parents they could see in the audience, but they managed to corral them, while the Iguana Room stood up, one by one walked across the stage and received their “diplomas” . . . which Quinn had told Daisy were gilt edged, because Needleton parents demanded a level of class to their preschool certificates.
As soon as the Iguana Room had been allowed to throw their painted-blue cardboard hats into the air, the graduation ceremony was officially over and the kids sprinted to their parents. Daisy was practically tackled by Carrie.
“Mommy, did you see me sing?”
“Yes, baby, you sang beautifully!” Daisy replied.
“Daddy, did you see me?” Carrie said, releasing Daisy and throwing herself at Rob.
“You’d think we hadn’t heard them singing that song every day for the last month,” Quinn said, as Hamilton let go of his mother’s neck and grabbed Carrie’s hand, and started singing again.
“You might have,” Daisy replied. “I’ve heard nothing but buzz saws.”
Daisy had spent the past month in a constant state of construction. Not only was the basement of the house in its final stages of refurbishment, because Grandpa Bob was due back from Arizona in just a few days, but Rob had begun making display shelves for Daisy’s storefront.
She had managed to get a pretty decent lease for the old Knick Knack Nook space on Main Street. Elaine at the Cranberry Boutique even vouched for her with the town council, saying that she would bring a new variety to their local independent shops. She hoped to open up sometime in June—dependent entirely on when they managed to get the space fully refurbished. There were plenty of issues that needed addressing, and Rob was as handy as they come, but as The Brand New Home was wrapping up its first season and actively beginning work on its second, Daisy knew that Rob’s time was precious. The fact that he had started the shelves made her feel terribly guilty for taking him away from his other work.
“I’m in this with you, kid.” Robbie had just shrugged, and kissed her forehead. “Besides, Quinn designed these shelves and she scares me, so I’m going to get them done.”
The one good thing was that they hadn’t—yet—had to tap into their down payment money. They likely would when Daisy started ordering inventory—and Rob’s uncle and Grandpa Bob had both approved a delayed time frame for payment—but for now, the money she made from the Dave Arenson Blackmoor and other items in that gold mine of a long box was enough for the first and last month’s rent and shelf-building supplies.
Daisy, meanwhile, was busy building the party-planning aspect of her business. She already had three preschool birthday parties on the books, and had done one just last weekend for Jordan’s fourth birthday, at a family rate. Jordan wanted her basement playroom transformed into a combo dungeon-princess birthday party, as in she wanted all the pink and fluffy décor and face painting of the Princess Room, and all the ordering about and war mongering of the games in the Dungeon Room.
Daisy looked forward to the day she got to sit her niece down and introduce her to the world of D&D. Jordan was made to rule a kingdom. Or at the very least, organize a small band of scrappy adventurers.
Shanna was more than happy to leave all the work up to Daisy. But for once Daisy didn’t mind—since she was getting paid. And every penny that she made was a penny she didn’t have to take out of the down payment fund.
Future parties would be far more geek-tastic as her business expanded. But this was a good start. Quinn had helped her with the party planning, showing her how to rig all the decorations, and of course was there with Hamilton at Jordan’s birthday, but she had been busy herself.
Yes, she was in the early stages of her divorce, with volleys being thrown, visitation being worked out, and lawyers exchanging paper. It was a massive task, pulling apart the life they had built, but with every step, so far, Quinn had felt better and better. Lighter. More free.
And . . . she had started therapy. Her friends were amazing, but it wasn’t their only job to help her through this. She didn’t have to feel guilty about monopolizing a therapist’s time. And it really helped her focus on herself, not all the stuff outside she couldn’t control.
Her mother was coming to visit in a few weeks. For once she wasn’t worried about it.
Her in-laws hadn’t said word one about the divorce from whatever island they were vacationing on. She didn’t mind that either.
Stuart had made one initial threat, in their divorce proceedings. His lawyers had intimated that there was proof of her unfitness as a parent from the Halloween video, and as such, attempted to use it as leverage in their negotiations.
But Stuart hadn’t expected her to embrace the video, and put it in her bio on her new business website.
Yes, Quinn was starting a business, opening up an interior design firm of her very own. Honestly, she didn’t have much choice, because after her episode of The Brand New Home aired, she’d gotten so many calls for work she needed a way to organize it all.
When the episode had aired, just a few weeks ago, Quinn had expected it to garner notice. To once again be brought up in conversation, or on the design blogs, as a subject of ridicule. Maybe even Jaxxon LaRue would be inclined to comment (although, given the recriminations he got from the New Year’s video, maybe not). And yes, there was some of that. But there was also a surprising amount of praise.
For the way she was honest about parenting with the Hendersons. For how she owned up to her internet infamy. But mostly, for how awesome the nursery turned out to be.
There was even an Instagram post that made Quinn nearly pass out.
It was a photo of the finished nursery, the corner where she had set up the low shelves and the soft toys. And it was posted by none other than the queen of casual elegance herself, Martha Stewart.
It’s hard to go from career woman to internet joke and back again, but Quinn Barrett (the mom in the Halloween costume stomping video—remember that? Me neither) proves she’s made of sterner stuff. Learning lessons about her own pursuit of perfection, she left her career at the rigidly traditional Boston interior design firm Crabbe & Co. to hang up her own shingle, Messy Life/Lovely Home Interiors. And her debut on the new design show The Brand New Home proved a triumph—turning in the best baby room we’ve seen in ages. We can’t wait to see what her Messy Life brings next.
It wasn’t the eight-page spread in the magazine she’d spent her career dreaming about. And it certainly wasn’t the great public resurrection she’d imagined for months. There would be no morning shows where she owned her Uptight Mom narrative, no apology from the world at large for what she had been through.
But in many ways, it was better, because instead of focusing on the past, it made room for what was to come.
And what was to come was the Iguana Room, and the last year of preschool.
“Are you guys ready to have four-year-olds?” Quinn asked.
“I already have one, thanks,” Shanna piped up. Newly four Jordan was off with Jamie, taking his phone and posing for selfies. “And she’s terrifying.”
“I wonder what’s going to happen with the Parent Association,” Daisy mused. “Are you going to run again, Shanna?”
“Are you insane?” Shanna guffawed. “Have you noticed the liquid-filled beach ball under my shirt? It’s going to become a human being in a few weeks. I’m not doing anything other than that for the foreseeable future. But after . . . I’ve been thinking about going back to work, and letting Jamie scale back on his hours. He might be willing to run again. He actually enjoyed it.” She slid a glance to Quinn. “But probably only because you were there to do the hard stuff.”
“Well, I have officially retired from preschool presidency. I’m not diving back into that. Besides—new business, remember? I’ve got plenty of upcoming projects and commissions to keep me busy. But you could do it, Daisy.”
Daisy blinked. “I have a new business, too! Let’s . . . let’s leave the Parent Association to new blood. There will be a bunch of parents bringing their kids to the Baby Bear Room, eager to overinvolve themselves with Little Wonders. If any of us were there it would no doubt just ruin their fun.”
“Wow, that is exceedingly generous of you,” Shanna said drily.
“Yeah, you’re such a giver, Daisy,” Quinn added with a laugh.
At that moment, Ham and Carrie came sprinting back to their moms, Rob, Jamie, and Jordan close behind.
“Mommy, come on, it’s time for your surprise!” Carrie said, tugging at Daisy’s hand.
“Shhh . . . Carrie, you’re not supposed to tell her yet,” Rob said, unable to hide his grin.
“There’s a surprise?” Daisy asked, looking from her friends to her husband and daughter.
“She’s just talking about the pizza party,” Rob said quickly.
“Yep, the pizza party!” Quinn added quickly. “At the restaurant on Main Street. Should we get going?”
“Pizza party?” Carrie asked her dad. “But you said—”
“Pizza party! Everyone, let’s go to the pizza party!” Jordan and Hamilton started cheering along with Jamie.
“All right,” Daisy said, laughing. “Let’s go.”
* * *
They parked on Main Street, near the front of Daisy’s new store. Brown paper covered the inside of the windows, a sign on the door said New Business Coming Soon. She really had to think of a name for the place.
“Why are we here?” Daisy asked, as Rob opened up the trunk.
“I just wanted to drop off these before we hit the restaurant,” he said, pulling a set of newly finished shelves out of the trunk. “Come on, Carrie!”
Daisy unbuckled Carrie from her car seat, and together they followed Rob into the store.
“Just let me get the lights . . .”
And the store—her store—appeared before her eyes.
“What . . . how did you? . . . when?”
The narrow space was transformed. The entire thing looked like a fancy gentleman’s library. Woodwork reached to the ceiling—no musty, ratty old IKEA shelves in this place. But the wood itself was a light ash, a beautiful pale shade, giving the space a lift of femininity.
There was a long, low glass counter, edged in wood. There was the modular lighting that Quinn had insisted on, installed. Two refurbished, electric blue leather chairs sat in the front window, a little reading nook.
“I had a couple of guys from the show help out,” Robbie said. “And you know . . . these guys gave me a hand, too.”
Just then, bursting from the back storage room was Quinn, Hamilton, Shanna, Jamie, and Jordan.
“Surprise!” They cried in unison.
“Surprise!!!!” Carrie echoed. “Did I do it right?”
“Yes, sweetie, you did great.” Robbie kissed his daughter. “Now, it’s not complete. You still don’t have a POS system, and you need internet, but . . .
“And some stock,” Shanna piped up. “But hey, it’s your store.”
It was her store. She could see it. She could see the shelves full of trade paperbacks, the front-facing display shelves full of the newest comics every week. She could see exactly where she was going to put her Captain Phasma costume. The game wall, the figurines. It was all going to be here.
“I can’t believe you did this,” she said, turning to Rob, almost crying.
“Hey, I can’t believe you moved across the country with me, so this is the least I could do. Besides, I had to get all of your stuff out of the basement and garage before Grandpa Bob came home. But there’s more.”
“There’s more??”
Daisy was waved to the back of the store, to what she had thought would be the stockroom.
There, Robbie had set up an old round table, worn and secondhand. On it were a few bottles of wine, a recently placed pizza, and Daisy’s D&D 5th Edition Dungeon Master’s Guide.
“What . . . is this the pizza party?”
“No,” Jamie replied. “We—Robbie and I—are going to take the kids down the street to the pizza place. You ladies are going to have your own party here.”
“Here?”
“Yup,” Shanna said. “That was Robbie’s plan.”
“Wait, what are we going to do—drink wine and unpack boxes?”
“I’ve heard a lot about this Dungeons and Dragons thing,” Quinn said. “Let’s give that a shot.”
Daisy looked at her friend like she was crazy. “You. Want to play Dungeons and Dragons.”
“Robbie said it was the one thing you would want for Mother’s Day.”
“He’s not wrong,” Daisy said. “But it’s not what you want for Mother’s Day.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Shanna added. “I have a full spa day planned on Sunday. But you seem to think this is fun . . . so maybe it is.”
“But . . . Robbie, I don’t have anything planned.”
Robbie dug into a box and handed her one of her binders. “Use something from your old campaign.”
Her fingers tingled as she took the folder from him.
“So, it’s settled. All right, kids, who wants to go get our own pizza?”
“WE DO!!!” Jordan cried, and started dragging her daddy to the door.
“Come on, Hamilton!” Carrie said, taking her friend by one hand and her dad with the other.
“Bye, Mommy!” Hamilton waved over his shoulder to Quinn, who blew him a kiss.
“Bye, Hammy—be good for Carrie and Jordan’s daddies.”
Daisy, Quinn, and Shanna waved them goodbye, watching their own Little Wonders skip and chatter, excited about the prospect of pizza, and whatever else the future held. (Maybe ice cream!)
“Okay, seriously?” Shanna said. “They’re getting pizza, not going to war. You don’t get to cry—I’m the one with the hormones.”
“I’m not crying,” Daisy said, rubbing her eyes. “I just can’t believe you guys agreed to this. I’m so glad you did, you’re going to love it.”
“Playing D&D or having a child-free afternoon?” Quinn said, as she opened a bottle of wine and poured out two glasses—and found a sparkling water for Shanna.
“Both,” Daisy said, as she sat down at the table, began flipping through her notebook, rummaging and finding her DM screen.
“Don’t get me wrong, I crave free time,” Quinn was saying, her eyes going soft, “but those kids are kind of great, aren’t they?”
“They are,” Shanna agreed, her eyes going soft, too.
“Yeah,” Daisy agreed. “But don’t worry, I won’t keep you too long. We’ll play a short adventure, only about four hours, give or take.”
“Four HOURS?” Quinn said, blinking in shock. “Do you know how many Parcels that is?”
“Seriously, think of what you could do with four hours.” Shanna agreed, wild eyed. “You could write up an entire legal brief—you could do your taxes in four hours.”
“I could cook an entire Thanksgiving dinner *while* designing a room and binge a sitcom on Netflix,” Quinn countered.
“Or, you could play a short game of D&D,” Daisy replied, laying all of her pages out in front of her. She pulled out a few sets of dice, and handed them to her friends. They looked at the sparkly purple (in Quinn’s case) and fluorescent green (for Shanna) geometric objects with a mixture of amusement and awe. Daisy smiled as she rolled up her sleeves.
“Settle in, ladies. This is gonna be fun.”