Chapter 2 - The Party Amy Never Wanted
Thirty six hours earlier, Amy Bradley had asked for only one thing.
Cancel the party.
Frederick had awakened just after three in the morning crying weakly against her shoulder.
By sunrise, his temperature had reached one hundred and one.
Amy called the pediatrician.
The nurse told her to monitor him carefully, keep him hydrated, and bring him in immediately if his condition worsened.
Amy had already begun packing the diaper bag when Teresa arrived.
She did not knock.
She never knocked.
Teresa walked into the kitchen carrying two garment bags and talking into her phone.
"The florist should be here by eleven. Tell them white roses, not cream. Cream photographs yellow."
Amy stood near the refrigerator with Frederick against her shoulder.
"Teresa."
Teresa held up one finger.
"And tell Mason I need the folder before the guests arrive."
Amy waited.
Teresa ended the call.
"What?"
"Frederick has a fever."
Teresa touched the baby's forehead for less than a second.
"He's warm."
"He needs rest."
"He needs a birthday."
Amy stared at her.
"He's one. He doesn't know it's his birthday."
"The guests know."
"Then cancel."
Teresa's expression changed.
It was subtle.
The pleasant society smile disappeared.
"You are not canceling a Bradley family event."
"It isn't a Bradley family event. It's Frederick's birthday."
Teresa placed her purse on the counter.
"And Frederick is a Bradley."
Amy had heard that sentence hundreds of times.
When she chose the nursery color.
When she wanted Frederick's middle name to honor her father.
When she suggested spending Thanksgiving with her sister.
Bradley.
Bradley.
Bradley.
As if marrying Connor had erased everything Amy had been before him.
"Connor said we could keep the birthday small."
"Connor is in Memphis."
"He'll be home tomorrow evening."
"Exactly."
Amy frowned.
Teresa smiled.
"Which means you and I have plenty of time to prepare."
Amy reached for her phone.
"I'm calling Connor."
Teresa's eyes dropped to the screen.
"He's presenting to the Lexington group today."
"I know."
"Then don't distract him because your baby has a temperature."
"Our baby."
Teresa gave a humorless laugh.
"That boy is the future of everything Connor's father built."
Amy stared at her.
Something about the sentence disturbed her.
Teresa had always spoken possessively about Frederick.
But this felt different.
More urgent.
"Why does tomorrow matter so much to you?"
Teresa immediately turned toward the dining room.
"It doesn't."
"Then cancel the party."
"No."
Amy followed her.
Teresa began opening boxes of decorations.
"You've invited almost thirty people."
"Twenty four."
"Frederick is sick."
"Then give him medicine."
"The pediatrician told me not to give him anything until I confirm the dosage."
Teresa sighed.
"Do you hear yourself?"
Amy stiffened.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means motherhood has made you incapable of simple decisions."
Amy felt the familiar pressure behind her eyes.
Teresa had a special talent for making cruelty sound like concern.
She never called Amy stupid.
She asked whether Amy was overwhelmed.
She never called her irresponsible.
She suggested Amy might need help managing money.
She never said Amy was a bad mother.
She said motherhood might be more than Amy was prepared to handle.
Every insult came wrapped in sympathy.
For months, Amy had wondered whether she was imagining it.
Then Mason arrived.
He carried a thick black folder beneath one arm.
When he saw Amy, he stopped.
"Hey."
"Mason."
His eyes moved toward Frederick.
"Is he okay?"
"He has a fever."
Mason looked toward Teresa.
"Then why are we doing this?"
Teresa's voice sharpened.
"Mason."
He fell silent.
Amy noticed the folder.
"What's that?"
"Work stuff."
"You work in real estate."
"Exactly."
Amy almost smiled.
"That explained absolutely nothing."
Mason did not smile back.
Teresa crossed the room.
"Put it in Connor's office."
Mason hesitated.
"Shouldn't he see it first?"
"He will."
"When?"
"When it becomes necessary."
Amy felt another flicker of unease.
Teresa took the folder from Mason and disappeared down the hallway.
Mason remained behind.
Amy lowered her voice.
"What is she doing?"
"I don't know."
"You brought the folder."
"That doesn't mean I know everything inside it."
"Mason."
He looked genuinely uncomfortable.
Amy had always liked him.
He was quieter than most of Connor's relatives. Less interested in appearances.
But lately, whenever Teresa entered a room, Mason behaved like a man waiting for an alarm to go off.
Amy stepped closer.
"Is this about Connor?"
Mason looked toward the hallway.
Then he whispered, "Just don't sign anything tomorrow."
Amy stared at him.
"What?"
"If someone puts something in front of you, don't sign it."
"What are you talking about?"
Teresa returned.
Mason immediately stepped away.
Amy studied him.
Teresa's eyes narrowed.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing."
Teresa looked between them.
Then she smiled.
"Good."
She turned toward the kitchen.
"Because we have a lot of work to do."
By noon, caterers had begun arriving.
By two, Teresa had dismissed two of them.
By four, she had told Amy that hiring additional kitchen staff would look extravagant.
By six, she had convinced Amy to prepare three dishes herself.
Amy barely slept that night.
Frederick woke every hour.
At two in the morning, Amy sat on the nursery floor rocking him while looking at Connor's name on her phone.
She almost called.
Then she remembered his presentation.
She imagined Teresa's voice.
Don't sabotage your husband's career because you can't handle motherhood.
Amy put the phone down.
Across town, Mason sat inside his parked car.
The black folder rested on the passenger seat.
He opened it.
He read the final page again.
Then he took out his phone and searched for Connor's number.
He almost called.
Instead, another name appeared on his screen.
Teresa.
Mason answered.
"Hello?"
Her voice came through cold and clear.
"Tomorrow has to look convincing."
Mason gripped the steering wheel.
"What exactly does that mean?"
"It means by the time Connor comes home, everyone in that house needs to believe Amy Bradley cannot manage her own child."
Mason closed his eyes.
"And if they don't?"
Teresa replied calmly.
"Then your debts become Connor's problem."
The call ended.
Mason stared at the folder.
May you like
For the first time, he understood that he was not helping with paperwork.
He was helping destroy a mother.
