Ciao (6 page)

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, I can see I’m in the minority here.” Mom stands and puts her hands on her hips. “Maybe you girls would like someone else to produce and direct your show in New York.”

“No, Mom,” I insist. “That’s not it at all.”

Paige doesn’t say anything.

“It’s just that we need to understand each other,” I explain quickly. “We have to be on the same page before we go to New York.”

“I’ll be curious to hear Helen’s view on this,” Mom responds as she heads back into the house.

“I know Helen’s view,” Paige says after Mom’s gone. “And it has to do with the bottom line.”

Not surprisingly, our Moroccan lunch is a relatively quiet and polite meal. We all try to smooth things over, but it’s obvious Mom’s feelings are hurt. And as I’m driving home, I think it must be difficult being a mom. Maybe it’s especially hard for moms of daughters. It’s like they identify with us too closely—they think what we do is a personal reflection on them. And yet we’re just trying to be ourselves and live our own lives. I wonder if Mollie will go through this sort of thing with Fern some day — which is very weird to think about.

Monday morning’s meeting in Helen’s office
feels like we’re picking up right where we left off yesterday. “I’m not sure I understand you, Brynn,” Helen says to my mom. “Are you saying that you don’t want to direct the show?”

Mom is frustrated and I feel sorry for her. “I’m saying I can’t encourage my daughters to act like mean middle-school girls for the whole world to see —no matter how much the ratings would love it.”

“And you think that’s what I’m suggesting?” Helen looks offended.

“I think you’re both saying the same thing,” I interject. “But in different ways.” Now all eyes are on me and I know I need to explain. “It’s the same as always,” I say to Helen. “You want Paige and me to mind our manners —as well as to be ourselves and get a good show. Right?”

Helen nods. “Right.”

“That’s what I want too,” Mom says a bit meekly. “Except that you want to control us,” Paige points out. “No … not really.”

“Look, Brynn.” Helen adjusts her glasses. “This is not Channel Five News. Your job is not to control anything. Your job is to keep things rolling, keep people doing what they’re hired to do, and to just let things happen. The best reality TV directors know how to step back.” She peers at Mom. “Do you know how to step back?”

Mom frowns. “I’ll admit that’s not easy when we’re talking about my own daughters.”

“We’re your daughters,” Paige says, “but you don’t own us.”

“I never said I did.”

“But that’s what it feels like when you talk like that.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” Mom folds her arms.

“And, see …” Paige stands and holds out her hands. “This is exactly what I’ve always been afraid of. I mean, if Mom directs, it could turn into a mother-daughter power struggle.”

“That’s not what we want.” Helen rocks a pen between her fingers with a stumped expression.

The room has become so quiet, you can feel it.

“I guess I should step down then,” Mom says sadly.

“Maybe so …” Helen sets the pen on her desk. “I suppose I should’ve considered this possibility before. It just seemed so handy, and rather sweet—a mother and her daughters doing a show together. But maybe it’s unrealistic.” She laughs uneasily. “Or maybe it’s just an entirely different reality show.”

Mom looks at me. “So did it feel awkward like this to you in the Bahamas?” She turns to Paige. “Or to you?”

“No,” I tell her. “I thought you did a great job of jumping into Fran’s role.”

“I did too,” Paige admits. “But it’s like you’ve changed since then … like you’ve got some kind of ownership thing
going on. I’m not sure if it’s because we’re your daughters or you’re just taking the responsibility of producing and directing too seriously.”

Mom frowns. “Well, producing the news was always rather serious.”

“And perhaps you’re unable to take the news hat off,” Helen tells her. “Not everyone can do reality TV, Brynn. Take it from me, I know from experience. You’re either cut out for it or you’re not.”

Mom sighs. “Well, I’m not sure. I did enjoy working with the girls in the Bahamas. And I’d like another chance to prove myself.” She stands and faces Paige. “But I’ll understand if you’d rather have someone else.”

“Oh, Mom.” Paige looks like she’s about to cry. “I would like you to come. It’s just that I don’t want you to take over.”

“I know.” Mom nods. “And I think I can learn how to keep my mouth shut.”

“Unless you see us doing something really crazy,” I tell her.

“Fran always knew when to reel us back,” Paige says. “But she did it gently and professionally.”

“Right.” Mom nods.

“And not because we were embarrassing her either,” Paige adds.

“Well, you don’t want to embarrass yourselves, do you?”

Suddenly Paige and Mom are starting to go at it again, so I hold up my hands. “I know this meeting needs to end at ten,” I say more to Helen than anyone.

“That’s right.” Helen nods to the clock on the wall.

“And this afternoon is Fran’s transplant, so I thought maybe we could give her a minute or so of our thoughts and prayers. Is that okay, Helen?”

“It’s perfect. Let’s do it.”

And so the room gets quiet again, but this time it’s not a harsh sort of silence. I can tell that everyone’s changed focus now. I pray silently and after a couple of minutes, Helen actually says, “amen.”

Helen stands, gathers some things from her desk, and slips them into her briefcase. “I’m going to let you ladies sort this out. Just let me know if we need to track down another director. And, if so, I want to know by four o’clock sharp. Good day!” With that, she is gone.

“So …” Paige purses her lips like she’s thinking.

“So … I think you girls should make the decision without me.” Mom picks up her purse. “All I have to say is that
if
you decide you want me to come, I will try to direct the show the way I think Fran would. I can’t promise that it’ll go perfectly smoothly, but I promise I’ll try to be less of a mother and more of a coworker.” She slips out of the room.

Then it’s just Paige and me, still sitting in Helen’s executive office. “So,” I begin, “what do
you
want to do?”

“You’re going to make me decide?” Paige scowls. “So I can be the bad guy?”

“No, I’m not trying to put it all on you. I just think we need to discuss this.”

“It’s such a mess,” she grumbles.

“I know … and I feel sad for Mom.”

“Me too.” Paige sighs as she sits back down.

“What do we do?”

Her mouth twists to one side, like she’s thinking hard.

Suddenly I’m curious. “Also, I want to know if you have a specific plan for Eliza. I mean, you wouldn’t do anything seriously messed up, would you?”

“Of course not.” And yet her smile is mischievous. “I mean you wouldn’t embarrass yourself or the show, would you?”

“You know I wouldn’t.”

I nod. “Okay, I realize you wouldn’t risk your own image. But you do understand that if you push something too far with Eliza, it will make you look bad?”

“I’m not an idiot, Erin.” Her voice is growing colder.

“And you heard Helen’s warning about lawsuits. The Wilton family could afford to drag us and the entire network through the court system until you and I are old enough to retire.”

Her brow creases. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I’m hopeful I can trust Paige. If nothing else, she loves her public image enough to watch her step. “So — back to Mom.”

“Okay. Let’s give her a chance.”

I stare at my sister.
“Really?
You’re good with that?”

“Sure. If she messes up, we can always let her go before the Milan trip.”

“Yeah … right.” I’m imagining the tabloid headlines— “Forrester Sisters Fire Mom.”

“She’ll probably be just fine.” Paige stands like we’re done. “Mom heard Helen spell it out, and she’s not dumb. She has to understand that this is different than news TV. And, really, she wasn’t too bad in the Bahamas.”

“I’ll try to help her as much as I can,” I offer.

Paige sticks out her hand. “So we agree this is the right thing to do.”

“We agree.” We shake hands and, as we leave Helen’s office, I’m hoping we won’t be sorry.

“I’ll call Mom,” Paige offers as we go outside. She barely has her phone out when she lets out a squawk.

“What’s wrong?”

She holds her phone in my face. “Look at this!”

I cup my hand over the small screen to see what looks like a photo of Paige and Ben. “Is that from Saturday night?”

“Yes.” She lets out a growl. “Mollie forwarded it to me. She says it’s all over the place. Listen to this headline. ‘Paige Forrester Breaks Engagement for Benjamin Kross?’ Can you believe that? It’s like they can say anything they want as long as they put a question mark at the end of the lie.”

“Hopefully people see the question mark as a reason to question the accuracy of the headline,” I tell her as we stop by her car.

“I know it’s not worth getting upset over.” Paige takes a deep breath. “And, in a way, I don’t even care. In fact, I’m curious to hear Dylan’s reaction.”

“Does he follow the tabloid garbage?”

“No, but I’m sure some of his employees do. He’ll hear about it soon enough.”

“And you don’t plan to do damage control first?”

She shrugs. “Nope.”

I’m tempted to point out that this seems a bit immature on her part. But, come to think of it, her whole relationship with Dylan seems a bit juvenile, especially thanks to the Eliza episode. It’s childish behavior for a couple who are supposedly engaged. I hope if I ever get engaged — and I’m not planning anything soon — I’ll handle myself with a bit more class.

Paige and I part ways and I drive over to Cedars-Sinai, where I find Fran’s mother in the waiting area of the oncology unit. “Fran just went in,” Mrs. Bishop informs me as she sets aside a rumpled magazine. “I think she’s calmer about this whole thing than I am.”

“You know, the procedure is actually fairly simple,” I remind her. “At least for the recipient. It’s more of an ordeal for the donor.”

“Yes.” Mrs. Bishop nods. “We met the donor last week. He seems like a fine, healthy man. And we heard he went through the surgery this morning with no problems.”

“Good.”

“I’m trying to focus on the positives,” she says. “It’s not easy, especially when I remember all the things that can still go wrong. There’s a long list of possible complications, Erin. Fran could get hit with anything from a severe infection to kidney failure—and even if she escapes those troubles, there’s no guarantee that she’ll be cancer-free.” She lets out a jagged sigh.

“I know, but I’m trying
not
to think about those things.” Then to distract her, I tell her about our moment of prayerful silence at work. I also rattle on about the meeting this morning and how my mom is having a hard time fitting into Fran’s shoes. “I’m not sure if it’s because of her experience producing the news or because of Paige and me.”

Her voice sounds shrill. “I cannot, for the life of me, imagine working with my daughter. I’m sure we would fight constantly. It’s hard enough trying to live with her.”

I have to bite my tongue, because I’m pretty sure it’s Fran’s mom who’s hard to live with. But I could be wrong.

The procedure is supposed to take about three hours and it’s nearly two o’clock when I hear my stomach growling. I offer to get some lunch for us. Mrs. Bishop says she’s not hungry, but I tell her I’ll try to find something to tempt her. Then, on my way to the cafeteria, I check my phone. There’s a message from my mom, asking me to call her.

“Hey, Mom,” I say cheerfully. “What’s up?”

“Paige says you girls decided to give me another chance.”

“Oh, it’s not really like that,” I say. “We both know you’d be really good at directing, Mom. And as long as we can avoid the mother-daughter conflicts, we should be okay. Don’t you think?”

“I hope so, Erin.” Then she asks if I saw the photo of Ben and Paige.

“Yeah.” I get into line at the cafeteria. “Paige didn’t seem too concerned though.”

“She
should
be concerned.”

“I kind of felt like that at first too, but then I wondered what good it does to react at all. You know how it goes—the tabloids are going to print whatever they think will grab some attention. And that little blurb about Paige and Ben will blow over as soon as a bigger celeb does something sensational.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“So are you glad you’re coming to New York with us?” I ask hopefully.

“I guess so … but I’m a little uneasy too.”

“You’ll be fine, Mom. You know, I was starting to help Fran some, and doing some interning to learn the inside part of the business. Maybe I can help you too.”

“That would be nice. Paige wants to have a planning meeting tomorrow morning at the studio. She said Leah will be on hand to help too. Hopefully I can muddle through somehow.” Then she changes topics by asking about Fran.

“The procedure must be about midway through,” I tell her. “Fran’s mom is pretty nervous. In fact, I was just getting us some lunch.”

“I won’t keep you then. Tell Fran I’m sending positive thoughts her way.”

“I’ll let her know.”

I return to the waiting area with two different soups and salads. To my relief, Mrs. Bishop discovers she has an appetite after all. Eating helps to pass the time, but then we’re back at the waiting game again. I start feeling anxious, so I excuse myself to dispose of our lunch remainders and then, on my way back, stop in a quiet corner to pray for Fran. I also pray for the donor.

At half past three, the doctor comes to the waiting room to tell us that the procedure is finished and that Fran is doing well and resting.

“So it went well?” Mrs. Bishop asks nervously.

“As well as it could possibly go,” the doctor tells her.

“And do you really think she should go home?” she asks. “Today?”

The doctor nods. “Yes. Fran has made it clear she prefers to recover at home. And because her apartment is so close to the hospital, I don’t think there’s any need for concern.” She hands Mrs. Bishop a packet of papers. “Fran understands the need to be very germ-conscious during this time, as I’m sure you do as well, but here’s some information to help you care for her. Do you have any questions?”

“I guess not.” She looks down at the papers in her hand.

“Feel free to call the number there if you do.”

“When can we see her?” Mrs. Bishop asks.

“I’d like her to rest quietly for about an hour. Then we’ll check her vitals.” The doctor smiles. “If everything is okay, she can be released around six.”

To celebrate, Mrs. Bishop and I go get a cup of coffee. “Thank you so much for waiting with me today,” she says as we head back up to see Fran. “You have no idea how much it means to me.”

“Well, Fran is a special person,” I tell her. “I feel like I’ve been through so much with her already. How could I not come?”

When we find Fran later, she looks tired but relieved. I tell her how everyone is sending warm wishes her way and we visit a bit. There’s a new light in her eyes, but it’s plain she still needs some rest.

And although I know it will be some time before the transplant really begins to reverse her leukemia, I still feel very hopeful as I drive home. I believe Fran is going to make it!