Ice queen, p.7
Ice Queen, page 7
straightened her back and nodded. “Okay.” She sounded so
defeated, Aislin wondered if she was even going to bother
asking her mother.
Jordy had rounded the car and was now holding open the
door for Aislin to exit. Sure. She could take a hint. Reluctant
to leave Cynt, as the girl was still gripping her hand so hard,
Aislin gently patted their joined hands with her other one
before freeing herself. As she stepped out of the car, she
murmured to Jordy, “Take care of her.”
“We always do,” Jordy mouthed. Raising his voice, he
said, “I’ll make sure Ms. Durr gets your card, Ms. Kennedy.”
“Aislin, please.” She took one step forward and had
turned to wave to Cynt, when she stopped in mid-motion.
Wait—what? “Ms. Durr?”
“Cynt’s mother is Ms. Susanna Durr,” Jordy said, raising
his eyebrows. “I thought you knew.”
“I had no clue,” Aislin managed to say as a small
eruption of panic in her stomach began to grow. She
thought of the card she’d just given Cynt.
Automatically she bent and gazed into the car. “Take
care, Cynt.” She thought her voice sounded hollow, but Cynt
merely waved as Jordy closed the door and then got behind
the wheel again. As the car took off, Aislin found herself
simply standing there, certain she had somehow, by some
unbelievable happenstance, gotten herself into a mess.
Groaning, she began to walk toward her building,
exhausted and with every single nerve on high alert.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I want to transfer to another school.”
Susanna had barely taken off her coat when Cynthia
spoke from the dark staircase leading up to the second floor.
“Oh, dear God. You startled me. What were you saying?”
Susanna had heard every word, but she needed to stall, to
catch her breath.
“You heard me.” Cynthia sauntered down the last few
steps. “I want to transfer. As quickly as possible.”
Placing her purse on the small table next to the full-
length mirror, Susanna turned to face her daughter with
measured movements. Yes, she confessed to herself, she
was bracing for impact. “Is this because of whatever
happened at Alyssa’s party?”
Cynthia tilted her head, and Susanna could tell she was
weighing her response. “In part.”
“You can’t switch schools because of a single incident.”
Resting her hip against the table, Susanna tried to read the
rigid young face before her. Today, Cynthia wore more
makeup than usual, which meant there had to be a note for
her waiting to be signed. Drew’s prep school had strict dress
codes, which extended to makeup, and, God forbid, tattoos.
“You’re not listening.” Cynthia sounded tired, but she
kept her gaze firmly locked with Susanna’s. “I said, ‘in part.’
I’m not ready to talk about what happened. Let’s just say a
lot has gone on since I started at Drew, and last Friday was
the final straw.” Cynthia pushed her chin out and clenched
her fists. On every finger, multicolor rings sparkled.
Her fourteen-year-old suddenly sounded so mature. She
wasn’t ready to talk. Yet. Might her daughter confide in her
later? Susanna couldn’t even ask that question, or Cynthia
would withdraw.
“I’m not prepared to send you to a boarding school.”
Susanna gestured for Cynthia to follow her into the family
room. “Please. I need to get off my feet.” She took off her
pumps as she sat down on the love seat. To her surprise,
Cynthia took the seat next to her, her focus unchanged.
“I want to go to East Quay High.”
Susanna blinked. “What? The local public school?”
“Yes.” As Cynthia pushed her shoulders up, the bravado
seemed to seep out a little at a time as she flexed her
hands.
“But…you don’t know anyone there, do you?” Shaking
her head, more from confusion than anything else, Susanna
dared reach out and take one of Cynthia’s restless hands in
hers.
“I do, actually.” Cynthia stared at their joined hands for a
moment but didn’t pull back. “And it’s a good school.”
“I’m sure it is, but it’s not Drew. It’s not a prep school. Ivy
League schools are murder to get into these days, and if
you’re not on the track—”
“Mom. Stop.” Cynthia tugged at Susanna’s hand and
squeezed it hard. “I know you want that for me, but you
have to listen to me. I’m—not—happy—there. At Drew. I
hate it.”
Those words were more than Cynthia had shared with her
on a personal level in ages. Yet Susanna felt she had to
encourage Cynthia to stick it out at Drew. The prestige that
came with a high school diploma from this school was worth
so much more than her daughter realized right now. Ever
since kindergarten, Susanna had made sure Cynthia was
enrolled in the right schools, among the right people.
Networking couldn’t start early enough, but how did you
explain that to a teenager?
“I have the school counselor’s business card. You can call
her.” Cynthia slid her hand free and pulled out a card from
one of the back pockets of her striped sweatpants. “She’s
really cool, and she knows all the kids at that school…and I
need to do this.”
Stunned, Susanna accepted the card but didn’t look at it.
“How on earth did you find the school counselor? Did you
actually visit the school on your own?” How dare the
principal of the local school let someone else’s child in and
try to persuade them to transfer?
“Of course not. I’ve only passed it on my way home. I
met Ai—Ms. Kennedy at the coffee shop. You know? Where I
do most of my homework?” Her eyes mere slits now,
Cynthia clearly challenged her.
“Ah. A stranger in a coffeehouse persuades you to jump
ship and downgrade to their local high school. Brilliant.”
Pressing her lips together, Susanna shook her head.
“I’m practically a stranger in that coffeehouse on most
weekdays, so perhaps you need to give Ms. Kennedy the
benefit of the doubt, unless you want to paint me with the
same brush.” Cynthia straightened but didn’t leave the
room in full-on drama mode as she had so many times
before. “Just call her. Please. She’s really cool and…she gets
me. I mean, she gets kids. It’s obvious.”
Susanna watched her daughter intently, and the
desperation in Cynthia’s eyes was far too obvious for her to
dismiss it. A small, insistent voice acerbically added, “as she
normally would.” Shaking it off, she examined the business
card. Aislin Kennedy, CSC, East Quay High School. The
woman’s first name sent a shiver through Susanna’s belly.
Closing her eyes briefly, she saw a pretty face, curly red
hair, and bright-blue eyes, and she felt lanky, yet strong,
arms around her, both when they danced and when
Susanna nearly fell later on. Unusual name, but surely
not…?
“All right. No, no.” Susanna held up her hand, forestalling
the joy on Cynthia’s face, but she knew the millisecond of
uninhibited hope would linger with her. “All right, as in I’m
going to call Ms. Kennedy.”
“Don’t go all Susanna Durr on her.” Cynthia scowled.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“You could probably ask any one of your employees, and
it shouldn’t be news to you, but you have a way.”
Shrugging, Cynthia stood. “I’m not going to sit here and
cringe. I’ll be in my room.”
Susanna gazed down at the card. A cell-phone number
was scribbled below the school’s switchboard number. So,
Cynthia expected her to call this woman now? Checking the
time, Susanna deemed it early enough to not be too
intrusive. She might as well get this out of the way and
make sure this wasn’t her Aislin. Wait. Her? The foolish voice
in her head had the audacity to phrase it like that. Getting
her cell out of her jacket pocket and then tossing the
garment over the backrest, Susanna dialed the number
written with a ballpoint pen on the card. Surely it wasn’t the
girl from the club. She looked young enough to be in
college.
“This is Aislin.” The clear voice on the other end was
unmistakable.
“Good evening, Ms. Kennedy,” Susanna said politely after
nearly dropping the cell. “My name is Susanna Durr. Am I
calling at a bad time?”
At least three seconds went by in complete silence.
“No, it’s fine, Ms. Durr. I take it Cynt has given you my
card. Hm. Already.” Coughing lightly, Aislin seemed taken
aback, but Susanna wasn’t sure if it was because of her
calling at all, or if she recalled Susanna from the club. “Er…
Ms. Durr. I don’t know if you remember, but we’ve met.
Recently.”
Now this was unexpected. For some reason, Susanna had
thought she’d have to be the one who admitted to their
previous encounter, even if she wasn’t sure why. Clearly
Aislin was the up-front type.
“I know. You have an unusual first name…and I recognize
your voice.”
“This is a small town,” Aislin said, sounding relieved. “So,
what can I do for you?”
Susanna leaned back and gripped the cell phone harder.
“You can start by telling me how you’ve convinced my
daughter she should transfer from Drew to your little high
school in a matter of days.”
Now the silence stretched five seconds. When Aislin
spoke again, her voice was low but urgent. “I haven’t talked
to Cynt about her school, or mine, in that way at all. If she’s
thinking of transferring, it has to have been on her mind for
a lot longer than she’s known me.” She sounded honest and
very assertive. “I would never dream of suggesting I know
your daughter as well as you do, not even close, but I know
about middle school and high school kids. All she asked of
me earlier today, when she offered me a lift—which you
allowed, by the way—was if she could call me to talk every
now and then. That’s why I gave her my card, for her to ask
your permission.”
Susanna’s thoughts whirled, and she couldn’t pin a single
one down that made sense. “Talk.” She rubbed her neck
with her free hand.
“Yes. It can be good for a person her age to have
grownup friends to confide in. That bears no reflection on
your parenting skills.”
Like hell it didn’t. “I’m not comfortable with this situation.
Not comfortable at all.”
“I can understand that, since you don’t know me. Would
it ease your mind if we met? I can also give you the phone
number for the principal of East Quay High for references.”
Aislin’s voice was still calm and professional.
“Why are you so adamant about talking to Cynthia? What
can possibly be in it for you?” Cringing at how harsh her
voice, not to mention her words, sounded, Susanna
slammed a fist into the cushion next to her.
“This is my job, what I live for, to help young people find
their way. Apart from that, you have a terrific kid who is
mature beyond her years in many ways.” Aislin went quiet
for a few moments. “And to be honest, she seems unhappy.
You must be worried about her.”
It was as if Aislin’s last sentence opened a floodgate
inside Susanna. Concern for Cynthia washed through her,
overwhelming enough for her usual defense mechanisms to
kick in. “All right,” she said briskly, outwardly all business.
“As my daughter is clearly not backing down regarding this
issue, I would like for you to come to the house when it’s
convenient for you. Perhaps together we can convince
Cynthia not to throw away her future after all.” She lowered
her voice to the register that had been known to make
seasoned board members tremble.
“I think you misunderstand. I’ll be happy to join you, but
only for you to decide if you are comfortable with your
daughter confiding in me. I’m not going to be part of any
persuasion campaign. I realize that Drew is prestigious, but
it’s also a highly competitive school academically, which
isn’t for everyone.”
Standing up now, furious at how damn pedagogical Aislin
sounded and, damn it, well-informed, Susanna clenched her
teeth around words like “how dare you” that wanted to
escape.
“Fine. I’m working from home tomorrow. I would like us to
meet without Cynthia, if that is all right.” Susanna began
pacing, which was never a good sign. Nobody entered her
office if they saw her walking back and forth by her desk.
“Okay. I get off work at two p.m. tomorrow.”
“I’ll expect you at two-thirty.” Susanna gave Aislin her
address.
“Can we make it three? I’ll have to wait for the bus. My
car is being repaired.” For the first time, Aislin sounded
uncomfortable. Susanna was about to offer to send her
driver but instinctively knew that such a suggestion
wouldn’t go down well.
“Two-thirty. See you then.” Susanna disconnected the call
and pressed a hand to her neck again. Damn. At this rate,
she was going to have to make an appointment with her
chiropractor ahead of time.
“Well?” Cynthia’s voice made Susanna jump for the
second time during the evening.
“Ms. Kennedy will come see me tomorrow.”
“Really?” Cynthia smiled cautiously. “Really, Mom?”
“Really. I’m not promising anything, but if she checks out,
there’s a chance I’ll agree for you to talk with her.” Rolling
her shoulders, Susanna sighed. “I shouldn’t have coffee at
this hour, but—”
“I’ll make us some chai. Decaf.” Cynthia rocked back and
forth on her soles, and for a moment she looked like her
much-younger self. Envisioning the eagerness Cynthia had
shown when she was off to her first day of school, how
proud she’d been of her pink schoolbag and the colorful
barrettes in her hair, Susanna extended a hand and cupped
Cynthia’s chin.
“Thank you, sweetheart. That’d be lovely.”
As Cynthia walked toward the kitchen, Susanna had
another memory—of a deflated Cynthia returning home with
her hair loose, the barrettes in her bag, and a note stating
that both bags and hair clips were not in compliance with
the dress code at the posh elementary school in Manhattan.
Was that when the attempts at conforming had begun?
Returning to the love seat, Susanna pulled off her suit
jacket and unbuttoned the top two pearl buttons of her
blouse. She pulled her feet up under her just as Cynthia
returned with two steaming mugs.
“I made them lattes.” Cynthia placed Susanna’s mug on
a coaster before her on the coffee table. “One Splenda for
you.”
“Perfect.” Susanna took the mug and blew gently on the
steaming beverage. “Smells good.”
“Perfect comfort drink.” After sitting down in the armchair
perpendicular to the love seat, Cynthia sipped her tea.
Comfort? Susanna chastised herself for not even knowing
this. “It is.” Sighing, she leaned back and regarded her
daughter with more perception than she’d done in a long
time. This was obviously not the little girl she’d just
remembered, and she hadn’t been for a long time. It pained
Susanna to realize she didn’t know this girl. The part of her
in charge of her self-preservation argued that no parent
knew their teenagers very well, but she was sure that, in her
case, such reasoning was a cop-out.
“Mom?” Cynthia studied her over the rim of her mug, a
purple monstrosity with a psychedelic image of a lime-green
lizard wrapping around it. “Thanks…for not shooting me
down right away.” Sucking her lower lip in between her
teeth, Cynthia appeared to be holding her breath.
“I’ll have my decision ready for you regarding Ms.
Kennedy when you get home from school tomorrow.” As
soon as her words were out, Susanna knew this was not
what Cynthia had wanted to hear. Before her daughter had
time to say something more, she continued. “You’re not
missing out on school, no matter what your new friend and I
decide.”
