Chapter 3 - The Monday Morning Crisis
Vanessa phoned shortly before nine on Monday morning. I let it ring three times before I answered. “Claire, thank goodness. We have a major emergency.” Her voice was breathless, tinged with genuine panic. I said nothing.
“The conservatory contacted us,” she continued, speaking too fast. “They informed us that Sophie’s funding for the next term has been canceled.”
“Canceled?” I asked, my tone perfectly neutral.
“The anonymous sponsor refused to renew it. Sophie already has rehearsals arranged, and now the school expects us to secure another source of funding.”
“That sounds complicated.”
“Complicated?” Vanessa snapped. “It’s humiliating. Eric cannot understand financial documents, and I’m currently negotiating a brand partnership. You need to contact the school and resolve this.” Even now, she was attempting to make the crisis my responsibility. She wanted me to fix it, just like I had fixed the mortgage and the boutique.
“I cannot contact them,” I said.
“Of course you can. Tell them you assist with Sophie’s career. Explain that somebody made an error.”
“I don’t believe it was an error.”
Vanessa went quiet. The silence stretched over the cellular connection. “What is that supposed to mean?” she finally asked, her voice dropping.
“Only that the donor might have had a reason to stop contributing.”
“What reason could there be? Sophie is one of their most promising students. Some bitter person probably watched her online and decided to punish her.” She had come closer to the truth than she understood.
“I cannot help you,” I said, keeping my voice soft but firm. “You and Eric will need to speak with the conservatory yourselves.” Then I ended the call.
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For the following two days, my phone almost never stopped ringing. Eric called from his workplace, leaving increasingly frantic voicemails. Vanessa left lengthy messages detailing how this was ruining her week. Sophie sent several texts, but none contained an apology. Instead, she complained that I had not yet replaced the bracelet she had broken. She also asked whether I would purchase a new professional violin bow for her since her parents were currently “stressed.” She was completely disconnected from reality.
By Tuesday evening, Vanessa had taken the matter online. She filmed herself in her leased SUV, crying about an unknown donor who had abandoned a talented young musician without notice. She suggested that the conservatory’s computer system might have been compromised. She also claimed that certain jealous family members had always resented Sophie’s gifts, aiming a clear, passive-aggressive strike at me. The comment section was filled with strangers offering empty sympathy. None of them offered fifty-eight thousand dollars. I did not respond to the video. I just watched the foundation of their perfect life begin to crack.
