“Serena’s my favorite player,” Birdie says, gently kicking Charlotte under the table. Charlotte reaches down and squeezes her daughter’s leg. Inside, she’s beaming. We’re still on the same team.
“Birdie’s had a poster of Serena on her bedroom wall since she was in third or fourth grade,” Charlotte says. “She actually has a similar style, that’s what her coaches always say. Powerful.”
“How fast did you say your serve was the other day?” Tucker says.
Birdie grins, seeming more like herself now, and reaches for a slice of Brie. “Ninety-two.”
“Ninety-two miles per hour!” Dayna exclaims, shaking her head. “Wow.” She looks at Charlotte. “I mean, wow! I don’t even know if my Lexus goes that fast!”
Birdie kicks Charlotte again under the table. “Trust me,” Charlotte says. “She doesn’t get it from me.”
Tucker stands. “We’re gonna go outside, okay?”
“Had enough of us, lovebirds?” Dayna says.
“Mo-om,” he singsongs, and they split for the backyard, practically sprinting.
“Gosh, she’s adorable!” Dayna says, watching them as they go. “She gets those highlights from you? Or do you take her somewhere?”
“What?” Charlotte says, her eyes still on the kids. Their heads are dipped together like they’re in on a secret, and she feels a nervous flutter, trying to imagine what it might be. “Oh,” she says. “No, that’s natural.”
“Well, to the happy couple.” Dayna raises her glass and then Charlotte does the same, taking a big swig, pushing the wine past the lump in her throat. Happy couple. This isn’t an engagement party, for God’s sake. She’s fourteen.
“I’ve never seen Tucker like this with a girl before,” Dayna says, reaching toward the overflowing veggie tray and picking up a tiny perfect carrot stick, the green fronds still attached like something out of Beatrix Potter. “He is head over heels! Normally, he doesn’t say a thing about the girls at school, but ever since school started last fall, it’s been Birdie-this and Birdie-that.”
Normally? Charlotte thinks, plastering a big smile on her face. “Has Tucker had a girlfriend before, or . . . ?”
“Oh, well . . .” Dayna shrugs. “Nothing serious. Last year, he took a girl to the homecoming dance, and then I took them to the movies a couple of times after that before it fizzled out. That alone surprised me. You know kids these days, it seems like they’re far more interested in just hanging out in one big group.”
“Exactly,” Charlotte says. “Jason and I talk about that all the time.”
“But then I found out a little bit more about the girl, and I started to understand why Tuck wanted to be alone with her in a dark movie theater.”
Charlotte feels her breath catch in her throat. “I’m sorry?” she says, fighting to keep the cheer in her voice.
Dayna gives her a conspiratorial look. “Elizabeth Stephenson,” she whispers, as if there’s anyone else in the room.
“I don’t—” Charlotte shakes her head, her mind still stuck on the dark movie theater.
“Oh, you know the Stephensons. You must!”
“I don’t.”
“Really? Eric and Susie?” she says, in a way that feels so juvenile and judgmental that Charlotte’s reminded of something Stephanie says, about how living in North Arlington can sometimes feel like being back in high school, where every parent is a former class president or prom king or star athlete, and intends for their children to be the same.
“Anyway, the Stephensons, they’re a big Washington Golf family.” Dayna takes a step toward Charlotte, looking back over her shoulder at the kids outside as she does. “And I know for a fact that Elizabeth’s mom has enjoyed a few extracurriculars besides tennis and golf in the ladies’ lounge . . .” She pauses, eyes widening. “You know there’s a group of parents who do coke in the bathrooms there.”
“Oh, I never believed that old rumor,” Charlotte says, enjoying it when Dayna’s expression predictably crumples. She surely expected Charlotte to be wowed by this bit of blue-chip gossip.
“Anyway,” Dayna says. “I was happy when that little relationship ended. When I used to pick them up from the movies, both kids’ faces looked like they’d been rubbed raw. As if I couldn’t tell what they’d been up to.” She laughs but immediately stops when she sees the way Charlotte’s flushing despite her best efforts. “I’m sorry!” she says, reaching out to grasp Charlotte’s arm. “I didn’t mean to . . . I’m sure it’s so different, having a girl.”
“Well, it is,” Charlotte says breezily, trying to play it off. “It seems like just yesterday that Birdie was playing Legos and poring through the American Girl catalog. This boyfriend stuff is all a little new for us.”
“Well, not to worry. Tucker is a total gentleman. A really, really great kid.” Dayna smiles then, her tongue visible between her teeth, and Charlotte can’t deny it, something about the pointedness in her voice feels aggressive, like she’s challenging her to think otherwise. “You have nothing to worry about, Charlotte,” she says. “Honestly . . .” She puts her hand to her chest in faux modesty. “Forgive me for saying it but you kind of hit the jackpot.”
Charlotte finishes her last sip of wine. She knows that the condescension in Dayna’s remark isn’t a mistake. This is an offensive move; she’s establishing a pecking order, just like Jason’s animals at the zoo. “The feeling’s mutual,” she says, putting down her glass. “Anyway, they’re so young . . . I’m just happy they’re having fun.”
“And so great about them both being only children, right?” Dayna says. “I bet that’s part of their connection. Were you like me? One kid’s enough? Or was it not by choice that you had just one?”
Charlotte’s so stunned by Dayna’s gall that it takes a few beats to find her words. “Um,” she says. “No, it wasn’t by choice, I guess, but we’re more than grateful for Bird—”
Dayna cuts her off. “I’d say we’re better off, don’t you think? Did you do fertility treatments? I didn’t even bother. The number it can do on your body!”
Heat prickles behind Charlotte’s ears. Who talks like this to someone they barely know? “Dayna, I don’t—”
“Never mind,” she says, lifting her glass. “None of my business. Though I will say, I think it’s better for the kids, not having to share us, you know? And it’s probably good for our marriages, too. Finch already says I devote too much time to Tuck. You want a tour of the house?”
“Sure,” Charlotte says, dizzied by the exchange. “Sure.”
Dayna leads her around for the next fifteen minutes, past paintings of Tucker she’s commissioned, through the his and hers offices crammed with leather-bound books that have probably never been cracked open, and Charlotte thinks to herself that she hopes Birdie will just get this first relationship out of her system. She wants her to keep her options open, to put boys last on her list of interests, not to get too attached.