Like the way Anna had negotiated Bloom’s contract off the cuff like that, without a prior word to Avi. But when she called him about the additional clause, he was unusually amenable—happy, even. “Good she’s making plans,” he said, ominously, of Mrs. Von Bizmark.
As soon as the phone was back in its cradle, Anna heard a man clear his throat behind her. Miguel, of course. Alarmingly, he held a piece of pipe in his hands. His hair was wet.
“So . . . ,” he began, looking at the pipe as if he could read what to say there. “I need a few parts I don’t have.”
“What is that in your hand?”
“Pipe.”
“From the bathroom?”
“Yes.”
“So . . .” Anna stood.
“Oh, you can’t use that bathroom,” Miguel said, an edge of panic creeping into his voice that made Anna shudder. This was just the sort of unpleasant surprise she always sought to avoid.
“I’m getting Ariadne,” Anna said.
“No! Please!” He took two quick steps into the office, one of his shoes squishing. Anna and Julie exchanged a glance; they should call in the big guns. “I’ll lose my job,” Miguel entreated Anna. He looked so genuinely desperate. “I’m begging you.” Anna remembered he had two sons who lived with their mother in Queens. “You know the Von Bizmarks never use that toilet! Like, never!” he pleaded.
“Now that it’s broken, someone will definitely try,” Julie said, and both Miguel and Anna stared at her. “Murphy’s law.”
“Are you sure you can fix it?” Anna asked, eager to avoid having Miguel fired. He shook his head vigorously in the affirmative. “Tomorrow?” Julie pretended to fax something as a pretense to stand behind Miguel with a sign that read in large red Sharpie, NO. But at this crucial moment, Anna lacked the heart to swing the ax.
“One thousand percent!” he insisted. Before Anna could reverse herself, Miguel said, “Thank you. Thank you!” and backed out of the office past Julie.
“Don’t push me, Miguel!” Anna shouted as the back door closed behind him.
“Are you sure that was a good idea?” Julie asked.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Julie, of course I’m not!” Anna exploded. It was a very bad, truly terrible plan! Why, oh why, had she not insisted on calling Ariadne in the first place? Julie stood very still, her mouth agape in surprise. Anna already felt terrible for snapping at her, but she wasn’t quite ready to say so and jumped on the ringing phone—a call from the Castle.
“They’re gone,” Phil said, exhaling the weekend’s stress.
“How was it?” Anna asked.
“Pulling off a last-minute New Year’s Eve weekend for the Von Bizmarks while the two of them fought like cats and dogs . . . cats and dogs with rabies . . . it was a trip to Hollywood.” He sounded utterly drained. Almost delirious. He would have several months to recover.
“That’s the job, right?” Anna said, upbeat.
He snorted. “Jesus, Anna, I don’t know if they’re going to make it,” Phil went on. He had known them as a couple for nearly twenty years. “Maybe you can help? You know, plan a trip for them or something? To reconnect?” On its face, this was a ridiculous idea. It was hard enough choosing a shade of green for the luncheon invitation; Anna would never be able to pluck the right destination off a map of the world.
But, on the other hand, maybe Phil was on to something. There had to be a way, sitting as she was with her hands on the reins of Bambi Von Bizmark’s life, for Anna to help steer it in a more positive direction. Mr. Von Bizmark’s assistant would be no help, of course.
Meanwhile, Julie stabbed at her keyboard, glowering at her computer monitor, rightfully disgruntled. Anna turned to the hodgepodge of papers on her desk that served as a physical to-do list. In her hand, she found the sheet Josefina had given her that morning.
DEAR PARENT,
This is to inform you that lead has been discovered in the walls and pipes of PS 342. Unfortunately, refitting the school so that classes can continue at this location will cost $1.3 million, which is not in our budget. Starting next semester, we will begin bussing students to PS 207. If your child is in the GIFTED program, you MUST PROVIDE TRANSPORTATION to PS 132 in Queens, effective next semester.
With best wishes,
Delilah Sellers
Principal
PS 342
“Delilah Sellers’s office,” the deeply annoyed receptionist said when Anna called the number on the letterhead.
“Is she in? I’m calling on behalf of Josefina Ruiz, who works for Bambi Von Bizmark. Josefina’s daughter, Ilana, is a student at your school.”
There was a pause. There were a lot of names in that sentence, and Anna had spoken with authority. But surely, the principal had received many phone calls that day.
“May I take a message?”
“Are there any fundraising efforts underway to raise money to save the school?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Please ask Principal Sellers to call me. We want to help,” Anna said, surprising herself. When she had picked up the phone, her intention was only to discover whether there might be a way for Mrs. Von Bizmark to write a check—her favorite way to “participate” in a cause. She would surely contribute on behalf of Josefina. But somewhere along the way, Anna started to think that maybe, somehow, they could do more than just send five or even ten thousand dollars. What that was, she wasn’t quite sure.
Julie quietly processed a stack of invitations Mrs. Von Bizmark had received, her response indicated by a black Sharpie X or check mark. She sniffed pitifully.
“Hey,” Anna said. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Jules. I just . . . this show has me all distracted. I’m making bad calls.”
“No, you’re not,” Julie said reflexively. “OK, maybe one.”
“I feel bad about Ilana’s school closing.”
“Do you really think we can help?” Julie asked.
Anna knew that both the school and the flexibility to bring Ilana to work had been a godsend to Josefina. Moreover, she really liked Ilana. She was extremely smart and talented. But could Anna actually extend the limited powers of her position far enough to make a real difference in Ilana’s life?
Anna shrugged and sighed. “It couldn’t hurt to try.”
“Because, you know, we’re not exactly curing cancer in this office,” Julie added, a running joke between them when things got too intense. It was a way to remind themselves that even though their jobs might depend on pleasing a single impossible client, the actual work was relatively inconsequential. It did not matter whether the toilet ever got fixed, really.
“I know you’re right. That Miguel is going to screw this up somehow. I just hope it’s in a really small, manageable way,” Anna said.
“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it!” Julie said. “I mean, mostly you’ll handle it, obviously.” Which was funny because it was true.
FIVE
January 13
Anna jolted awake the day of her opening, shooting out of a nightmare where the paintings kept falling off the wall. The whole night she had to dash from piece to piece, rehanging each one just to hear another come crashing down behind her. She panted in the just-before-dawn light, Adrian snoring undisturbed beside her. Her alarm blared: 6:00 a.m.