Free Opening Belle by Maureen Sherry

milliseconds.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œClearly you can’t have any feelings for that guy. He was so awful to you in the end and guys don’t change. What’s there to lose?”
    â€œHow about my pride?”
    â€œHow is this losing pride? Your life is a complete success, you’re probably one of the thirty most successful women on Wall Street. You have three fantastically interesting, smart enough children. What exactly is the part that you are ashamed of ?”
    A weird silence filled the room. We both pondered the question.
    â€œUnless it’s me,” he said, looking deep into my eyes.
    â€œWHAT?”
    â€œNo, really, Belle, I can understand. He was a poor guy with a fancy name who became rich and got what he wanted and you married a formerly rich guy who’s now poor. It’s questionable you got what you wanted. I get it. You’re like the people who don’t go back to their high school reunions. They don’t go back because they’re embarrassed. If you don’t call him, you’re the girl who won’t go to the reunion.”
    I had to prove my love for Bruce by calling Henry? Fine. I called and didn’t let my voice quiver once. In that weak moment I called the guy who cruelly broke my heart and left me for the society girl he was sleeping with when we were engaged (though that’s not how the New York Times described her in their wedding announcement). I called him and begged to get my sloppy three-year-old kid into a preschool with a chapel day. A school named Fifth Avenue Preschool that isn’t even on 5th Avenue.
    To his credit, Henry was beyond helpful. His secretary passed me on to him after I meticulously spelled out my name. Twice. Our conversation was short and direct, like business associates who talk every day. He never even acted surprised to hear I was on the phone. Instead of asking me about my life he asked me the spelling of Kevin’s name. (Spell Kevin ? What was up with his office and the human spell-checking?) He asked me for my last name. (He really couldn’t not know that, right?) “It’s Cassidy,” I reminded him. “Not sure if you remember me, but I think we used to date?” I joked, but he didn’t laugh.
    â€œBelle?”
    Here it comes, I thought, the big apology, the one where he admits to being the lowliest crapper on the earth and that now this favor would make us all good. I’d waited a long time for this one.
    â€œIsabelle, it’s nice that you still use Cassidy, I guess, but—”
    â€œWell, yes, that is my name, Henry.”
    â€œNo. I mean you don’t seem like the type to change your last name to your husband’s, right?”
    â€œI didn’t know there was a type or that you had me pegged, but yes, I haven’t changed it.”
    â€œSo maybe for this application we can call you Mrs. ummm . . .”
    â€œMcElroy? I can only apply to your school if I have my husband’s last name?”
    â€œYes. Sounds weird, but okay. Can you spell that for me?”
    And that’s how my ex-fiancé changed my last name to my husband’s.
    In three days Kevin gained admission to a preschool so elite it had no name on the door, no website, no listing in the phone book. It was the beginning of a new legacy, allowing my other two kids to eventually go there too. Of course, payment for this favor is very severe. Besides being committed to paying $31,000 per year for a three-hour-per-day school, and fake changing my last name when I wasn’t ready to do that, I had just groveled to the guy who left me on the sidewalk holding my wedding gown in the rain. Now I was committed to seeing either Henry or his silicone-enhanced wife each time I dropped a child at school. Snap.
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    This Thursday morning I’m feeling the love. Bruce took Kevin to his school, leaving enough time for Brigid, Owen, and me to walk to