Free Spelling It Like It Is by Tori Spelling Page B

everything I’d wanted her to say! She got it. I was a Beverly Hills girl who’d moved to a farm. (In Malibu, but still.) When I asked her if the e-mail was for me or for her friend, she said, “Both of you.” She was being supportive in her own way. That was enough for me.
    For Christmas we went to Lake Arrowhead, to a house that we were renting for the second year in a row with Patsy, the Guncles, Simone, and Scout’s mother, Grandma Jacquie. It was a Tudor house right on the lake, with big open bay windows and a great gourmet kitchen with all Viking appliances. There were too many fake florals around the house for my taste, but the amazing huge fireplaces more than made up for that.
    We went to a Christmas-tree lot and I decided to go for it—I bought an all-white flocked tree. We bought plastic ornaments and colored lights at CVS.
    Usually it snows in Lake Arrowhead and we go skiing or sledding, but that year it was warmer. We didn’t do much of anything. We’d go into the village to poke around, or stay home, walking the kids down to the lake to feed the ducks, watching movies, and cooking every single meal. It was a big house—unlike Malibu there was plenty of room for all of us—and was really restful. A brief reprieve before a surprising curveball.

Is There a Mall
in This Seaside Resort?
    I n the beginning of January 2012 we took a little trip to Pasadena for work. It was the up-fronts for Tori & Dean —the day when NBC affiliates presented their seasonal lineup to advertisers and press. The event was taking place at the iconic Langham hotel. Most people who were attending just drove in for the day, but since we lived so far away—in Malibu—they put us, the three kids, and Patsy up at the hotel for the night.
    The night we arrived Dean and I were supposed to make an appearance at a red-carpet cocktail party. The next day was the press tour. Media outlets would have tables set up on the hotel’s lawn, and celebrities from all of the NBC/Universal shows would make the rounds, doing interviews. Then we’d head home. It would be a condensed but important trip.
    All that day I sensed it coming, and, indeed, by the time we arrived at the hotel I had developed a full-blown migraine. I was expected at the cocktail party downstairs. They’d paid for our suite and everything. The hair and makeup people were there, at the ready. But I couldn’t function. This night was a big deal for us, our show, and our network. I was in tears, not knowing whether I should drag myself to the party and pretend to function or rest in hope of recovering so I could do press the next day. My publicist told me to rest—the next day was even more important—so I went straight to bed. I lay there with the lights out and an ice pack on my head. I did manage to eat some truffled Parmesan fries and to catch a few scenes from Contagion on pay-per-view.
    The next morning, when I woke up, I couldn’t see straight. I was weeping with pain. We had to cancel the whole press day. Dean and I were in some ways the faces of the network. We were Oxygen’s most recognizable show, and one of their top shows. This was really, really bad.
    I needed to go to the ER, but how? There was press everywhere. We would certainly be followed. Dean called down to the front desk to ask if there was a way we could leave without being seen. Security guards led us down through the kitchen and out a back way. We slipped into the hotel shuttle, and the driver dropped us off at the ER.
    A nurse brought me to a room. Before taking my vitals, she handed me a cup.
    “Before we can treat you, we have to make sure you’re not pregnant.”
    This was not my first time at the races. For my worst migraines, one or two times a year, I end up in the hospital. I’d never been asked to pee for pain meds before.
    I whispered to the nurse, “Oh no, my baby is only two months old. There’s not a shot in hell I’m pregnant. I’ve been a migraine sufferer my whole life.