thing, but child pageants seem to be more about the parents than the kids.” I quickly scanned the faces around the table for help. I could see support in everyone’s eyes, but no one spoke up.
“Well, I disagree,” Wendy said. She didn’t sound angry, however. Then she completely surprised me. Instead of vetoing my dissenting opinion outright, she looked around the room. “What do y’all think? Do you think Waverly is right?”
I pleaded around the table with my eyes. Come, on people!
Finally, a couple of people nodded their heads.
“I think she’s right,” Scotty finally said. “To be honest, I think child pageants are awful.”
The intern raised his hand without looking up from his phone. “I second that.”
Wendy’s eyes got big. “Really? Do y’all really think that?”
One by one, everyone in the room nodded.
I was afraid Wendy was going to slap me and storm out, but all she did was shrug her shoulders.
“Well, OK, then, I guess we’ll scratch that idea. How about we move on to the cutest dog contest? I’m thinking only dogs that fit in purses could apply. Wouldn’t that be faaabulous ?”
And that was that.
• • •
Later that morning, I was chatting with Scotty in the kitchen about the New Year’s Eve show when Wendy walked in. Given her moodiness, I’d learned to mirror her behavior and not speak to her before she spoke to me, but for some reason, that day I decided to roll the dice and be friendly. Maybe it was because of her change of heart about the child pageant show, or maybe it was because I knew I’d be on a plane to Cleveland in a couple of days. When I was about to see Jake, nothing could sour my cheeriness, not even crazy Wendy Davenport.
“Hi, Wendy, how’s it going?” I said with a smile.
Scotty looked up from his coffee mug at the sound of my voice, clearly surprised to hear it. He knew my strategy for dealing with her because he employed it too: Don’t speak until spoken to . I think pretty much everyone who worked on the show did the same thing.
She sighed loudly. “Hello, Waverly. Hello, Scott. I’m doing fine, not great.” She placed a tea bag into a mug and poured hot water over it.
Now I was the one who was surprised. In all the months I’d known her, Wendy had never been so candid.
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I didn’t say anything.
“I just haven’t been sleeping well lately,” she added, her back still to us.
I looked at Scotty, who raised his hands in an I have no idea gesture.
“Um, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
She turned around and half smiled. “Thanks. To be honest, I’m a bit stressed out about something.”
Now I was nearly speechless. Who are you, and what have you done with Wendy? I stole a glance at Scotty, who looked equally confused.
We sat there in awkward silence for a moment, and then I finally spoke.
“Um, would you like to have lunch with us? Maybe talk about it? Or get your mind off it? Your call.” Did I just invite Wendy to have lunch with Scotty and me? Who am I , and what have I done with Waverly ?
She smiled. “Really? That would be lovely.”
I pulled my phone out of my purse and looked at the time. “We were going to meet with the editing team and then go to lunch around noon. Would that work?”
She smiled again and shook her head. “I’d love to, but I have an appointment.” She pointed to her forehead and whispered, “Botox.”
I nodded. “Got it. Maybe another time.”
“I’d like that. Thanks, Waverly.” She picked up her tea and nodded politely to both of us, then walked out of the kitchen.
I looked at Scotty, who again held his hands up in a what-the-hell? gesture.
“Now I feel sort of mean for hating her,” I whispered.
“I don’t,” he whispered back.
• • •
Thursday morning, I got up at the crack of dawn to tape a new segment at a trendy gym in the West Village. (Getting in shape for holiday parties apparently was on many people’s minds).
“Well, I disagree,” Wendy said. She didn’t sound angry, however. Then she completely surprised me. Instead of vetoing my dissenting opinion outright, she looked around the room. “What do y’all think? Do you think Waverly is right?”
I pleaded around the table with my eyes. Come, on people!
Finally, a couple of people nodded their heads.
“I think she’s right,” Scotty finally said. “To be honest, I think child pageants are awful.”
The intern raised his hand without looking up from his phone. “I second that.”
Wendy’s eyes got big. “Really? Do y’all really think that?”
One by one, everyone in the room nodded.
I was afraid Wendy was going to slap me and storm out, but all she did was shrug her shoulders.
“Well, OK, then, I guess we’ll scratch that idea. How about we move on to the cutest dog contest? I’m thinking only dogs that fit in purses could apply. Wouldn’t that be faaabulous ?”
And that was that.
• • •
Later that morning, I was chatting with Scotty in the kitchen about the New Year’s Eve show when Wendy walked in. Given her moodiness, I’d learned to mirror her behavior and not speak to her before she spoke to me, but for some reason, that day I decided to roll the dice and be friendly. Maybe it was because of her change of heart about the child pageant show, or maybe it was because I knew I’d be on a plane to Cleveland in a couple of days. When I was about to see Jake, nothing could sour my cheeriness, not even crazy Wendy Davenport.
“Hi, Wendy, how’s it going?” I said with a smile.
Scotty looked up from his coffee mug at the sound of my voice, clearly surprised to hear it. He knew my strategy for dealing with her because he employed it too: Don’t speak until spoken to . I think pretty much everyone who worked on the show did the same thing.
She sighed loudly. “Hello, Waverly. Hello, Scott. I’m doing fine, not great.” She placed a tea bag into a mug and poured hot water over it.
Now I was the one who was surprised. In all the months I’d known her, Wendy had never been so candid.
I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I didn’t say anything.
“I just haven’t been sleeping well lately,” she added, her back still to us.
I looked at Scotty, who raised his hands in an I have no idea gesture.
“Um, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
She turned around and half smiled. “Thanks. To be honest, I’m a bit stressed out about something.”
Now I was nearly speechless. Who are you, and what have you done with Wendy? I stole a glance at Scotty, who looked equally confused.
We sat there in awkward silence for a moment, and then I finally spoke.
“Um, would you like to have lunch with us? Maybe talk about it? Or get your mind off it? Your call.” Did I just invite Wendy to have lunch with Scotty and me? Who am I , and what have I done with Waverly ?
She smiled. “Really? That would be lovely.”
I pulled my phone out of my purse and looked at the time. “We were going to meet with the editing team and then go to lunch around noon. Would that work?”
She smiled again and shook her head. “I’d love to, but I have an appointment.” She pointed to her forehead and whispered, “Botox.”
I nodded. “Got it. Maybe another time.”
“I’d like that. Thanks, Waverly.” She picked up her tea and nodded politely to both of us, then walked out of the kitchen.
I looked at Scotty, who again held his hands up in a what-the-hell? gesture.
“Now I feel sort of mean for hating her,” I whispered.
“I don’t,” he whispered back.
• • •
Thursday morning, I got up at the crack of dawn to tape a new segment at a trendy gym in the West Village. (Getting in shape for holiday parties apparently was on many people’s minds).
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