Lauren Weisberger - The Wives

Miriam rolled her eyes and stuck a pod in the machine. ‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘Are you coming from actually working out?’ Emily asked. ‘Or are Lululemons considered getting dressed around here?’

‘Both, actually. I went to a nine o’clock SoulCycle class.’

‘Wow, I’m impressed. The Miriam Kagan I know is not the Soul kind of girl.’

‘Yeah, well, I try to go a couple days a week. Not like the other moms. The instructor asked today who was “doubling,” and half the class raised their hands. Three of them were tripling .’

‘Three hours of your day and a hundred and twenty bucks – aggressive. Even for Greenwich,’ Emily said. ‘At least in Santa Monica, they don’t admit to it.’

Miriam dumped in a splash of half-and-half and grabbed a croissant from the plastic bucket of assorted Trader Joe’s breakfast pastries.

‘You can’t outrun a bad diet, you know,’ Emily called.

Miriam gave Emily the finger and shoved the croissant in her mouth.

‘A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.’

‘These hips can handle one croissant, trust me.’ Miriam grabbed a love handle with one hand while balancing her coffee cup with the other. The croissant hung out of her mouth as she carefully lowered herself into the chair opposite Emily, trying to ignore the sensation of her stomach fat rolling over the waistband of her yoga pants. The high-waisted waistband. With extra compression. ‘What are you working on?’

‘Trying to get my career back. I’m being Snapchatted to irrelevance. When did we get so old?’

‘We’re thirty-six. It’s hardly ancient.’

‘Look around. You have three kids. And a professionally decorated house.’ Emily surveyed the family room. ‘It’s lovely, but whoever did this clearly hates color. It’s like fifty shades of gray without the S and M.’

Miriam nodded. ‘Exactly how I like it. So, what’s going on? I hardly think it’s fair to say that your career is in the toilet just because Rizzo Benz went with Olivia Belle. Or are we still not allowed to talk about it?’

‘It’s not just Rizzo.’ Emily sighed. ‘Maybe I’m losing my touch.’

‘Your touch? You went from being the top stylist in Hollywood to managing top celebrities in crisis. But if you don’t like it, do something else. You clearly can .’ Miriam polished off the last of her croissant. ‘What does Miles think?’

Emily shrugged. ‘He thinks like you. I’m overreacting. I’m great. But he’s not even around these days. He’s about to go to Hong Kong for three months.’

‘Go with him,’ Miriam said.

‘I’m not going to Hong Kong.’

‘It’s a great city.’

‘Maybe I’m depressed. Look what I’m wearing,’ Emily said.

‘Looks fine to me. Move in here and you can live in your pajamas all day. Just give up. I have.’

‘Yeah, you have,’ Emily said. ‘I never thought I’d see Ms. Editor of The Harvard Law Review doing school drop-off followed by SoulCycle class.’

‘That’s harsh. But fair, I guess. You should hear my mother. She’s literally embarrassed of me.’

‘Your mother won a Pulitzer when she was twenty-eight and ignored you until you were in college.’

‘Last week Matthew told us, “When I grow up, I want to be an inventor just like Daddy.” And then Maisie, without missing a beat, says, “Well, when I grow up, I want to go to the gym like Mommy.”’

Emily laughed. ‘Ouch.’

‘Yeah, I know. Like, “Sweetie, Mommy has a JD/MBA from Harvard. She made partner at the most prestigious firm in the city at thirty-four. Up until a lousy six months ago, Mommy worked eighty hours a week helping multinational companies and was the breadwinner for this family.”’

‘Did you say that?’

Miriam snorted. ‘She’s five. And the goal is not to become my mother, right? I said something inane about whether she grows up to become a mommy or a musician or an architect or a firefighter, all that matters is that she’s happy.’

‘And you believe that?’ Emily asked, eyebrows raised.

‘Yes! I do now. I’ve been operating at a hundred percent since I was her age? I blinked, and my kids went from newborns to school-aged real human beings with their own thoughts and feelings, and I missed most of it because I was always at work. Now that Paul’s sold his start-up everything’s upside down, like we hit the lottery. How do I explain that having the chance to take a breather midlife and evaluate everything is rarer than a double rainbow?’

‘Tell me you didn’t say all that.’ Emily brushed hair out of her eye.

‘I didn’t say all that. I asked if she wanted a bag of cheddar bunnies, and she broke down hysterically crying because she only likes the cookie ones. But seriously, Em, how lucky am I right now? I have choices. Not a lot of people can say that. You can too.’

‘It’s been, what? Six months out of the city? Another six and you’ll want to step directly in front of one of those Range Rovers out there.’

‘Maybe. But for now it’s okay. Besides, I’m doing some freelance stuff on the side. Local projects, to keep my edge.’

‘Like?’

Miriam could see that Emily’s attention was already starting to drift back to the TV. On the screen, Hoda and Kathie Lee were drinking rosé.

‘Like nanny tax law. Prenups. Estate planning. That kind of thing.’

‘Sounds scintillating.’

‘Don’t be a bitch.’

‘That’s exactly what you said to me during the summer we met when you thought I was making fun of that nitwit. What was her name? Rosalie?’

Miriam laughed, remembering how everyone else at camp was scared of Emily, who wore lipstick despite the no makeup rule, slept in boxer shorts she claimed belonged to her older boyfriend, and said ‘fuck’ with abandon. Miriam had never met someone who would flat-out refuse to play lacrosse for ‘personal reasons,’ or insist on wearing stilettos to the weekly dances on the basketball court with the boys’ camp, or convince the CITs to sneak her cigarettes. The first week they met, Miriam thought Emily was mocking a bunkmate’s weight, and Miriam told her in front of everyone to stop being a bitch. By visiting day, they were introducing each other to their parents as best friends, and by summer’s end, they clung to each other when it came time to say goodbye.

‘How do you remember that? I was convinced you were calling her fat,’ Miriam said.

‘She may have been a little bit of a chunker, but I was walking like an elephant because I was imitating that buffoon who worked in the office – what was his name? Something rapey.’

‘Chester.’

‘Yes, Chester! Have you ever looked him up? We should Google him. I bet he has more pedophilia arrests than we can count. I’m just sure of it.’

‘He was the grossest man ever,’ Miriam said. ‘He leered at all the girls whenever they went in to pick up mail or drop off postcards.’

Miriam’s phone rang. ‘It’s her. Finally!’ she said, and snatched her phone from the table. ‘There you are!’ Miriam said before Karolina could say a word. ‘How are you? Where are you? I’ve been leaving messages for you stalker-style for three days!’

‘You saw the papers,’ Karolina said, her slight Eastern European accent sounding more pronounced.

‘Of course I saw the papers! The whole universe saw the papers! But I didn’t believe them for a second. Where are you? I must have left a thousand messages.’

‘I’m in Greenwich.’

‘What?’

‘To “collect myself.”’

‘Oh my God. I’m coming over.’ Miriam glanced at the wall clock. ‘I need to shower, but I can be there within the hour.’