The Wives. Lauren Weisberger

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.’

      At this, Emily looked up. ‘Who is it?’ she mouthed.

      ‘You don’t have to rush over. I’m sure I’ll be here for a while,’ Karolina said, her voice breaking. ‘I just miss Harry.’

      ‘Oh, honey, I’m on my way. Same address?’

      Karolina sobbed. ‘Yes, the hideous house with the gold-enameled mailbox.’

      Miriam pictured the McMansion … splashed across the cover of the Post that morning with the headline WHERE WILL HIGH-FLYING MRS. HARTWELL LAND THIS TIME?

      ‘Okay, I’ll see you soon. Can I bring anything?’

      ‘Maybe some pills? What do people take these days? You wouldn’t know it from the news, but I’m out of the loop. Valium? No, that’s old-school. Percocet? I feel like now is an excellent time to develop a prescription-pill problem. I’m a drunk, apparently. No one will be surprised.’

      ‘Sit tight, I’ll be right there.’

      ‘What? A mommy friend calling to commiserate about her maid stealing the silverware?’ Emily asked, typing furiously on her laptop.

      ‘Karolina Hartwell calling to say that she’s here in Greenwich.’

      Miriam was halfway to the stairs when Emily called, ‘I’m coming with you!’

      ‘No, it’s not a good time. She sounds really upset. I don’t think she would want a stranger showing up at her house.’

      ‘I’m not a stranger! I met her a hundred times when I was at Runway. She must have been on the cover, what, five times while I worked there? She was in and out of the office every three seconds. I can help her!’

      ‘I don’t know …’

      ‘Trust me, it’ll be good to have me around. You go shower. I’ll change and pack a few necessities. Between the two of us, we can cheer her up.’

      Miriam nodded. As usual, she felt powerless to stand in the way when Emily made her mind up. ‘Meet me in the car in twenty. And please, no booze until we hear what’s really going on with her.’

      Miriam was halfway up the stairs but could hear Emily in the refrigerator. ‘Moët is hardly booze!’ Emily called after her. Miriam smiled to herself and thought how much she loved that crazy bitch.

       6

       Just a Cottage in the Country

      KAROLINA

      As it neared eleven, Karolina peered out the window near the door that faced the grand circular driveway, working her hair into twisty knots. When they’d bought the Greenwich house a couple years into their marriage, Graham had insisted they add the automated wrought-iron gate to the driveway for security purposes. She remembered feeling like it was a prison but hadn’t wanted to start another fight. ‘It’s the smart move,’ Graham had said. ‘It’s what people do.’ He’d sounded both supremely confident and totally vague.

      Karolina had had a hard time understanding Graham’s obsession with the house in the country. They were living in a lovely apartment in a full-service building on Sixty-Third and Park, close to the midtown law office where he was working backbreaking hours as a new associate. Who needed Greenwich? They did, Graham swore.