got to think of the kids. They love Tamara, and they’re going to wonder where she is. And they’re going to sense that we’re upset, so they’ll know something’s happened and worry.”
“So what are you saying?” Gretchen asked. “That we should tell them what happened?”
“No. I don’t think we should—”
“So we should pretend nothing’s happened?”
“I didn’t say that, either, Gretchen. All I’m saying is that we should do what’s best for the kids and keep—”
“Leslie!” Susan burst in shouting, dragging Emily by the wrist. “I saw the paper this morning and called, but you didn’t pick up—and then I had to be in court—my God, are you okay?”
Leslie gaped, not replying.
“Listen, I talked to the precinct. It’s definitely the same MO as the others. Same guy who took Claudia and the others.” Emily was whining for Susan to let her go, but Susan seemed to have forgotten all about the wrist in her fist. “I tried to find out what the cops know, but nobody’s saying anything yet. Too soon.” Emily finally broke away, shed her coat, and took off for the gym. “I’ll let you know the minute I hear anything at all,” Susan went on. “Meantime, what are we going to do?”
“What?” Leslie blinked at her, confused. “Do?” Davinder asked.
“There isn’t much we can do, is there? It’s up to the cops.” Ileana sat up straight.
“You’re kidding, right? We’re not going to just sit around waiting for our babysitters to disappear one by one—that’s crazy.”
Leslie let out an audible sob. I took her hand; Karen hugged her.
“Susan,” I whispered. “Everyone’s kind of upset here. Give it a break.”
I knew she wouldn’t. She gaped at me, then the others. Susan didn’t understand breaks or inaction of any kind. To Susan, passivity was poison.
“Well, as I was saying,” Karen said, “what I think we should do is stick to routine. Familiar structure might feel good right now.”
“Routine and structure,” Leslie echoed. “Keeping our lives going. That won’t be easy.”
“No, but it might be the best thing. For the kids and for us.”
Davinder spoke. “I agree. Even if we feel miserable, we should keep the kids’ lives normal.”
Susan was speechless, almost sputtering. I lowered my head, awaiting the inevitable explosion, counting down. Three, two...
“Shit—I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Boom. Susan was shouting. “This isn’t about us or our kids—it’s about our sitters. Our nannies. These are young, vital women whom all of us rely on. Who’s home right now with your newborn, Gretchen? And while you play tennis every morning, who takes care of the kids? Karen, when you’re on duty, who’s with Nicholas? Ileana—who watches your kids when you show houses? Davinder, you have a job now, too, right?”
“Only part-time—”
“Fine. Who watches your Hari ‘part-time’? Do you expect your sitters to risk their lives just so you can keep your kids’ routines normal and undisturbed?”
“Susan—” I started, knowing she was spouting without thinking, and probably just getting started. “I don’t think that’s what anyone meant—”
“I, for one, am giving Bonita a gun. I want her to keep it on her person at all times. I’m getting her a license and paying for her to take shooting lessons.”
Karen’s eyes widened. Leslie seemed to sway in her seat. Someone moaned a soft “Oy.”
“Susan, is that smart? A loaded gun? Around the kids?” I asked.
“You bet, a loaded gun around the kids,” she said. “Guess what—I want them to learn to shoot, too. Nobody at my house is going to wait around to be a goddamned victim. Someone messes with us, they’re dead.”
The other women exchanged meaningful glances, silently agreeing that Susan had lost it. But she’d gotten them out of their funk. Now they were debating issues of self-defense, the benefits of Mace versus stun guns, karate versus tai chi. I stood and went to the window, needing another break.
Molly stood beside the pit, by the uneven parallel bars. She stepped up and, with Coach Gene’s help, lifted herself to the lower bar. My heart stopped. I watched her little body swing, gather momentum, and somehow fly itself up to the high bar, defying gravity. Molly fearlessly held her position, her back arched and toes pointed, then leaned forward and spun back down to the lower bar. She flipped and flew back and forth between the bars, until finally she swung into her dismount, a cannonball from the high bar into the pit. When my heart began to beat again, I stifled the urge to burst into applause.
It was true; familiar