“It’s Nina. And Cherry,” Nina said, gesturing at her companion. “Remember us? Our kids go to the St. Mary-Alice School with your children.”
“Helloooo,” Wendy said, as if she suddenly recognized them.
“It’s so good to see you,” Nina said, leaning out and giving Wendy a spontaneous hug as if she were a long-lost friend. “What are you doing down here?”
“My daughter is buying a pony . . .”
“Who’s her trainer?” Cherry asked. She was wearing diamond stud earrings the size of almonds. “Is it Marc Whittles? He’s the best. You have to have Marc when you’re buying a pony . . .”
“I’m not really sure . . . I just got back from location. In Romania,” Wendy added, hoping that this might explain everything.
“My God. Your life is just so glamorous,” Nina exclaimed. “Cherry and I are always saying we should have had careers instead of husbands.”
“Less work,” Cherry agreed, and Nina, who had a slight southern accent, laughed raucously. Nina was one of those women, Wendy decided, who was impossible not to like, even if you didn’t particularly agree with her lifestyle. “Honey,” she said, looking at Wendy in surprise, “where’s your golf cart?”
“Golf cart?” Wendy asked. “I didn’t know I needed one.”
“Everything’s miles away . . . You weren’t planning on walking, were you?” Cherry asked, in shock.
“I’m not exactly sure where they are,” Wendy confessed. “I’ve been away, and then my phone . . .”
“Oh, honey, don’t worry about it. We lose our husbands and children all the time,” Nina exclaimed, waving away Wendy’s excuse.
“It’s better that way,” Cherry added.
This caused more peals of laughter.
“Why don’t we try Marc’s stable first, don’t you think?” Nina said, consulting Cherry. “Hop in,” she said to Wendy. “We’ll give you a ride.”
Wendy heaved her suitcases into a metal basket in the back. “Goodness,” Cherry said. “You haven’t been carrying those all the way from Romania, have you?”
“Actually, I have,” Wendy said, getting into the backseat.
“You are a devoted mother,” Cherry said. “When I get back from Europe, my husband and kids know that I don’t get out of bed for three days. Jet lag.”
“Honey, you get jet lag from going to the top of Aspen Mountain.”
Cherry shrugged girlishly. “I’m delicate.”
Wendy smiled, wishing she could join in on the fun. Nina and Cherry were perfectly nice, but they were so different. Their flaring nostrils (probably the result of early eighties nose jobs, Wendy thought; it was disturbing how you could now trace certain kinds of work to specific eras in plastic surgery) and tall, slim figures reminded her of pedigreed racehorses. They seemed to have no cares, and why should they? Their husbands were rich, and even if they got divorced, they’d end up with enough money to never have to work . . . What would that be like? she wondered. She tilted her head back. Probably enormously pleasant. No wonder they were so nice. Nothing really bad had probably ever happened to either one of them in their lives . . . And thinking of the now-inevitable scene with Shane, she gripped the side of the golf cart more tightly.
“By the way,” Nina said, “your little boy—Tyler?—is absolutely adorable.”
“He is, isn’t he,” Wendy said, nodding. Now that she finally knew she was going to see her kids, she felt a sickly sweet sense of anticipation.
“And your husband, Shane, is so good with him,” Cherry added. “We’re always talking about how lucky you are to have a husband who really does the mommy thing. He’s there to pick them up every afternoon after school. Most men say they want to do it, but when you let them, they’re completely helpless.”
“Mine never even figured out how to unfold a stroller,” Nina said.
“We think you’ve got him really well trained,” Cherry nodded. “We’re always wondering what your secret is.”
If they only knew the truth, Wendy thought bitterly. “Well, I . . . I guess I’m just lucky,” she said sadly.
“Here we are!” Nina exclaimed gaily, indicating a white-painted barn with a green copper roof. There was a fenced ring in front, with colorfully painted jumps scattered about. In the middle of the ring was a grayish-white pony being ridden by a young woman wearing a black riding helmet. Clustered to one side were Shane and Magda, who were talking to a tallish young man with the chiseled face of a movie star; to the other side were Tyler and Chloe, who were holding hands with the nanny, Gwyneth. “There’s Shane,” Cherry remarked. “And that’s Marc, isn’t it? Oh, good, you’ve got Marc after all. No need to worry, you’re in good hands,” she said, turning around to smile at Wendy.
Wendy smiled back, feeling queasy.
“Shane, darling,” Nina called, “we brought you a present! Your wife!” Wendy got out. And with small waves of their bejeweled fingers, the two women sped off.