Page 34 of Mean Moms
“Look what I’ve brought over, you’re going to die for it,” said Frost. She handed her coat to Ivanna and walked past the colorful print from Rachel Perry’sVogueseries, one of Belle’s favorites, into Belle’s library, the walls warm with purple felt. Belle was pleased with it every time she entered, a mark of a successful renovation. The Davids were worth every penny.
Frost opened the shopping bags and began laying out items of clothes—“Don’t peek until I’m done!” she commanded. Hildy crept in behind them, having heard Frost’s voice. She’d taken her hood down and looked brighter for it, more like the Hildy of old rather than the grumpy tween Belle was currently dealing with. Frost looked up and saw her there.
“Hildy, my darling! Give me a hug.” Frost went over and swept her up tightly, causing Hildy to blush happily. Even Hildy couldn’t resist Frost.
“I’m so sorry about your strep,” Frost said, ruffling Hildy’s hair, which was looking greasy from inactivity. Belle would make her wash it tonight. “What a crock of shit.” Frost liked to curse around kids, and the children ate it up. It made them feel grown-up and in on the joke. Frost went back to arranging clothes on Belle’s sofa.
“Okay, Belle, I’m ready for you!” said Frost. “First person to guess what these are from gets a cookie from Grandaisy.” Frost held up a paper bag from the Tribeca bakery. Frost had laid outthree fully composed outfits. One: a pink tank top, a tutu, and sky-high sandals. Two: the famous Dior newspaper dress. And three: an ethereal floral midi dress with pink stilettos.
“It’sSex and the City!” said Hildy, excited to have won the game. Frost ceremonially handed her the cookie.
“Yes, they’re for our Friendsgiving costumes. Belle—I mean Carrie—take your pick,” said Frost, gesturing to the clothing as if she were Vanna White.
“Where did you get these?” said Belle, gravitating toward the tutu, which she stroked gingerly.
“You know my friend Mike Bruno, who owns First Dibs? They have a whole pile of clothing that’s associated withSex and the City—either originals from the set or versions from around the same time. The tutu isn’t the exact one from the show, but SJP did wear it in an ad campaign. Mike told me they’re going to list it for close to two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
“What?!” Belle was shocked. She spent a lot on clothing, but not $250,000 a lot.
“So don’t fuck it up.” Frost laughed. “Here’s a tip: drink white wine, not red.”
Belle picked up the tutu and held it over her body. Frost started humming theSex and the Citytheme song, and Hildy looked impressed, coming over to Belle and running her hand over the springy fabric. Belle felt cheered. Frost always made things better. Perhaps there was a way to salvage Pippins Cottage Home. This would all be cleared up, and they’d move on with their lives.
“I have options for all of us. Plus, we have to figure out the guys. Jeff will be thrilled to be Big, I’m sure,” said Frost.
“Hahaha, Dad as Mr. Big,” said Hildy, laughing. “That doesn’t work! Shouldn’t Art be Mr. Big? He’s the fuckboi of the bunch,”she said. “All my friends say he stares at their moms for a bit too long…”
Frost turned back to the couch, gathering up the rejects to return.
“Oh, Hildy, hush,” said Belle. “That’s our friend’s husband, and it’s not a nice thing to say about him.”
“Whatever, Mom, it’s true,” said Hildy, shrugging.
The buzzer then rang.
“Ivanna, can you get that?” Belle called out. It was probably an Amazon delivery. Ivanna didn’t respond. The buzzer went off again.
“Ivanna?” Belle shouted. Maybe she was in the bathroom. Belle walked out of the library to the foyer, peering into the video footage of the camera downstairs. She didn’t see anyone standing there. Must have been a dropped-off package. But then she heard the elevator rumbling up to their floor. She toggled to the elevator camera and saw a man in a baseball cap, holding a small Amazon box. She couldn’t remember what she’d ordered. The trade-off that Belle and Jeff made to live in their fabulous Tribeca loft building was that the security wasn’t ideal. They had a state-of-the-art lock system, including a coded elevator, but no actual doorman. Belle wasn’t sure how this guy could have gotten in.
Belle plastered a smile on her face, holding out her hands for a quick retrieval. As the doors opened, she registered that the man had replaced his cap with a ski mask, obscuring his face entirely. Panic flooded Belle’s body. Was she about to be attacked? Where was Hildy? But the man didn’t lunge or come into the apartment. Instead, he ripped the tape off the box and pulled out a bouquet of flowers, handing it to Belle as the doors closed back on him. Belle, suspecting the worst, looked closely at what she was holding.The flowers were dead. Crumpled brown roses, lifeless pink tulips, shriveled white peonies. A rotten stench wafted up to her nose. She went over to the video monitor and watched as the stranger exited the building, his ski mask now traded back for his baseball hat.
Frost and Hildy arrived in the foyer.
“Mom, what is that?” said Hildy, sensing something was terribly wrong.
“Belle, who gave those to you?” said Frost.
Belle shook her head, confused. “A man in a ski mask,” she said. “But I saw him on the security camera, wearing a baseball hat.”
“What!” Frost exclaimed. Belle noticed that a small white note card was sticking out of the lower part of the bouquet.
“Here, I’ll read it,” said Frost, pulling it out. “It says, ‘Dear Belle, Congrats on the successful launch of Pippins Cottage Home! We knew you could do it. Wishing you all the best, a friend.’ A friend? How strange,” said Frost. Ivanna had entered the room and Belle handed the flowers to her. “Just throw them out,” she said softly, not wanting to upset Hildy. Ivanna headed into the kitchen, small pieces of leaves breaking off the bouquet and falling to the floor, leaving a trail of decay.
“Must have been a mistake at the florist,” Belle said, trying to laugh it off for Hildy.
“I’m calling Dad,” said Hildy, unconvinced.
“No, no, don’t call him yet,” said Belle. “You’ll worry him. I’ll speak to him later.”
