From there it had been easy to book weddings. Both Andy and Emily had copies of Miranda’s contacts’ numbers from Runway, and they weren’t shy about using them. They developed a routine as finely choreographed as a ballet. Both girls would scour websites, blogs, and gossip magazines for news of engagements, give it a few weeks for all the excitement to die down, and then call either the star directly or their publicist, depending on how close either’s relationship was with Runway or Miranda. At that point they would blatantly drop Miranda’s name, mention that they’d collectively worked under her for years (not a lie), and explain (in not too much detail) how they’d ‘branched out’ to a high-end wedding magazine. They would follow up each phone call with a FedExed copy of the Mexican wedding issue, wait exactly one week, and then call once more. So far, seven out of eight of the celebrities they’d contacted had agreed to have The Plunge cover their wedding for a future issue, so long as they were still free to sell pictures to a weekly in the interim. Andy and Emily never argued with this provision; their photography, the in-depth interviews they conducted with their couples, and the homey, accessible way Andy wrote the articles set them worlds apart from the grocery aisle competition. Plus each issue that featured a famous actress, model, musician, artist, or socialite made it easier to persuade the next celebrity to sign on, usually without a lot of the Runway name-dropping. The formula had been working beautifully for years now, and they were running with it. These real-life celebrity weddings had become not just the highlight of each issue but also the magazine’s defining feature and selling point.
Sometimes she could still barely believe it. Even now, flipping through the just-published November issue with Drew Barrymore and Will Kopelman on the cover, it was hard to comprehend that the entire magazine existed because of Emily’s vision a few years earlier and all their mutual brainstorming and ideas and hard work and mistakes since then. Andy had gone into it hesitantly, yes, but the magazine was her love, her baby. They had built something from scratch that they could be proud of, and every day she was grateful to Emily – for the magazine, and for its happy dividend, her introduction to Max.
‘Do you think Madonna will be there?’ her mother asked, bringing her paper cake plate to join Andy, Kyle, and Jill at the table. ‘Don’t she and Harper go to the same Kabbalah studio or something?’
Jill and Andy turned to stare at their mother.
‘What? I can’t read a copy of People in the dentist’s office?’ she asked, picking at her cake. Since she and Andy’s father had gotten divorced, Andy’s mother had grown increasingly careful about what she ate.
‘I actually wondered that myself,’ Andy said. ‘I don’t think so because she’s in the South Pacific for something right now. But the publicist has confirmed that Demi will be there. Not as fun now that she’s sans Ashton, but interesting nonetheless.’
‘Personally, I would like confirmation that nothing on Demi Moore’s body is real,’ Mrs Sachs said. ‘That would make me feel better.’
‘You and me both,’ Andy said, shoveling in the last bite of cake. It was all she could do not to scoop her entire hand into the cake toddler-style and shovel it into her mouth. She’d choose nauseated over famished any day.
‘Okay, crew, fun’s over. Jake and Jonah, please bring your plates to the kitchen and kiss everyone good night. Daddy’s going to fill the tub now and give you both your bath while I give Jared his bottle,’ Jill announced, looking meaningfully at Kyle. ‘Then because it’s my birthday and I get to do whatever I want, I’m going directly to sleep and Daddy is going to be your point person tonight should anything come up, okay?’ She hefted Jared onto her hip and kissed his cheek. He swatted at her face. ‘Any bad dreams, “I’m thirsty”s, “I’m cold”s, “I want a hug”s, you wake up Daddy tonight, okay, my loves?’ Both boys nodded solemnly and Jared squealed and clapped his hands.
Jill and Kyle corralled all three boys, thanked Andy’s mom for the cake, kissed everyone good night, and disappeared upstairs. A moment later Andy heard the bathtub begin to run.
Mrs Sachs disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and came out with two mugs of decaf English Breakfast tea, still steeping but already fixed with milk and Splenda. She pushed one across the table toward Andy.
‘I heard Kyle ask you earlier if everything is okay …’ Andy’s mother concentrated on wrapping her tea bag around a spoon.
Andy opened her mouth to say something and quickly closed it again. She wasn’t one of those girls who called home three times a day from college or would recount the intimate details of her romantic relationships to her parents, but it was harder than she thought – damn near impossible – not to tell her own mother that she was expecting a child. She knew she should tell her, wanted to tell her. It felt totally unnatural that besides her doctor and the lab techs, she and Mr Kevin were the only two people on the planet who knew that she was pregnant, but she still couldn’t bring herself to say the words. It didn’t feel real, and as conflicted as she was over everything with Max, it certainly didn’t seem right to tell anyone, even her own mother, before she told him.
‘Everything’s fine,’ she said, not meeting her mother’s gaze. ‘I’m just tired.’
Mrs Sachs nodded, although it was clear she knew Andy was withholding something. ‘What time is your flight tomorrow?’
‘Eleven, out of JFK. I’m getting picked up here at seven.’
‘Well, at least you’ll have a couple days somewhere warm. I know you don’t really get to relax when you’re covering a wedding, but maybe you’ll find an hour or two to sit outside?’
‘Yeah, I hope so.’ She briefly considered telling her mother about the call from Elias-Clark but knew a huge conversation would ensue. Better she got some rest than wind herself up for a night of Miranda nightmares.
‘How’s Max? Is he upset you’re headed out so soon after your wedding?’
Andy shrugged. ‘He’s fine. He’s going to the Jets game on Sunday with the guys, so he probably won’t even notice I’m gone.’
Mrs Sachs was quiet at this, and Andy wondered if she’d gone too far. Her mom had always liked Max and loved seeing Andy happy, but she didn’t pretend to understand the Harrison family wealth and what she saw as their need to be constantly social.
‘I ran into Roberta Fineman last week at that federation luncheon I went to in the city, did I tell you that?’
Andy tried to feign indifference. ‘No, you didn’t mention it. How is she?’
‘Oh, she’s doing really well. She’s been dating someone for years now; I think it’s serious. I heard he’s a dentist, a widower, and that they’ll probably get married.’
‘Mmm. Did she mention Alex at all?’
She hated herself for asking, but she couldn’t help herself. Even after more than eight years apart, with only a single run-in since then, it still shocked Andy how little she knew about Alex and his current life. Google failed to provide anything but the basic biographical information she already knew and a lone article three years back that quoted Alex raving about the live music scene in Burlington. Andy could see that he’d gone to grad school at UVM and from what she could tell, he still lived in Vermont. He’d mentioned a girlfriend, a fellow skier, when they’d run into each other but hadn’t given many more details. He wasn’t on Facebook, which didn’t surprise Andy. Lily either didn’t know much more or chose not to tell her – probably the former, since she knew Lily and Alex only mailed each other holiday cards and, once, when he was considering matriculating there, he had e-mailed about her experience at UC Boulder.
‘She did, yes. He’s finished his master’s and he and his girlfriend are moving back to New York. Or maybe they already did? She has a creative profession, I can’t remember what exactly, but she has a good opportunity in the city, so I guess Alex will be looking for something there.’
Interesting. Alex and the creative, pretty skier were still together, three years later. Even more interesting: he was moving back to the city.
‘Yeah, he told me about his girlfriend when I ran into him at Whole Foods. My god, that must have been, what? I had just started dating Max … three years ago. I guess it’s serious with them.’
She said this last part wanting her mother to deny it, rationalize it, come up with some ridiculous analysis or opinion that of course Alex wasn’t serious about the girl, but Mrs Sachs merely shook her head and said, ‘Yes, Roberta hopes they’ll be engaged by the end of the year. Of course, she’s only in her midtwenties, so I don’t think there’s any rush. But I’m sure Roberta is as eager for grandchildren as I am.’
‘You have grandchildren. Three, actually. Treasures, each of them.’
Andy’s mom laughed. ‘They’re a handful, aren’t they? I wouldn’t wish three boys on anyone.’ She took a sip of her tea. ‘I don’t remember you bumping into Alex. Did I know about it?’
‘I was still working at Happily Ever After and I had just met Max. You were on that riverboat cruise with your book club. I remember because I wrote you about it and your reply was from some funky keyboard that replaced every y with a z.’
‘Your memory never ceases to amaze me.’
‘Alex was in the city for the summer doing some sort of educational internship through Columbia. I still don’t know why he was at Whole Foods that day, but of course Max and I had just gone for a run and stopped in to pick up some water. I looked like hell, and Alex was dressed for an interview. The three of us got coffee for ten minutes upstairs, which was every bit as awkward as you’d think. He mentioned then he was dating a master’s student, but that it wasn’t serious.’
Andy omitted the part of the meeting where her heart was racing through the entire too-short latte, how she laughed a little too hard and nodded a little too vigorously every time Alex cracked a joke or made an observation. She didn’t tell her mother how she wondered if he was excited to see his girlfriend later that night, if he loved her, if he thought of this new girl as the one person who truly understood him. Andy didn’t mention how desperately she hoped he’d follow up their accidental meeting with a phone call or e-mail, and how she’d been hurt – despite her excitement over her new relationship with Max – when she didn’t hear from him. How she had cried that night in the shower remembering all the years they’d spent together, wondering how they’d become such strangers, before yelling at herself to put Alex out of her mind once and for all and concentrate on her feelings for Max. Handsome, sexy, funny, charming, supportive Max. She didn’t say any of it, but something told her her mother understood.
Andy helped her mother clean up the dishes and put away the cake. Mrs Sachs provided a highly detailed running commentary on every interaction she had during Andy and Max’s wedding, opinions on what people wore, how much they drank, whether or not they appeared to be having a good time, and how it compared to all the weddings of her friends’ children she’d attended in the past few years (superior on all counts, of course). She was careful not to mention the Harrisons either way. Jill reappeared briefly to pour two cups and one bottle of milk, and Andy felt like she was betraying both her mother and sister by not telling them the news. Instead, she wished Jill a happy birthday, kissed them both good night, and retreated to her childhood bedroom, the one farthest from the stairs on the second floor.
Plans were under way to update Andy’s bedroom now that she was all grown up – she’d helped her mother choose a queen bed with a leather headboard, plus a set of those hotel-style sheets and a duvet, crisp white with a straight line of espresso stitching – but nothing was ready yet. Her white shag carpet, colored gray from years of illegally wearing her shoes inside, and her purple-and-white-flowered quilt felt a thousand years old. A half-dozen bulletin boards were covered with remnants of her high school years: the tennis schedule for the fall 1997 season, assorted magazine tear-outs of Matt Damon and Marky Mark, a Titanic movie poster, a phone list for the yearbook staff, a shriveled stem from some dance’s corsage with its flower long dropped, a postcard from Jill’s postcollege trip to Cambodia, a pay stub from the TCBY she worked at the summer after graduation, and pictures, so many pictures. And almost every one of them featured Lily, smiling right alongside Andy, whether the girls were in taffeta dresses for prom, jeans for volunteering together at Avon’s no-kill shelter, or matching tracksuits for the single season they went out for the cross-country team. Andy removed a pushpin and pulled one of the pictures from the board: she and Lily at the state fair with a group of friends, walking off the Gravitron, each looking greener than the next. She remembered rushing into the bushes to puke mere moments after that shot was snapped and trying to convince her parents for the next three days that her reflexive vomiting was only the result of too many go-rounds on that evil ride and not a rebellious act of teenage drinking (although there was that, too, of course).
She flopped on her twin-size bed, now slightly sagging in the center from so many years of use, and dialed Lily’s phone number. It would be ten to nine in Colorado, and Lily would probably have just put Bear down for the night. She answered on the second ring.
‘Hey, beautiful! How’s life as a newlywed?’
‘I’m pregnant,’ Andy said before she could talk herself out of it.
There were three, maybe five seconds of silence before Lily said, ‘Andy? Is that you?’
‘It’s me. I’m pregnant.’
‘Oh my god. Congratulations! You people don’t waste much time, do you? Wait, that would be impossible …’
Andy held her breath as Lily did the math. She knew the entire world would do the exact same thing and that it would drive her crazy, but Lily was different. It was such a relief to tell someone. ‘Yeah, totally impossible. They think it’s not a “new” pregnancy, whatever that means, and obviously we haven’t even been married two weeks. I’m scheduled for an ultrasound next week. I’m freaking out …’
‘Don’t freak out! It’s scary, I know, I remember that part. But it’s so wonderful, Andy. Are you going to find out what you’re having?’
There it was: the quintessential normal question to ask a newly pregnant friend. It made Andy choke up with its innocence, and for a moment she was doubly upset to realize that this conversation with her oldest friend in the world couldn’t be solely a celebration. They wouldn’t get a chance to debate whether Andy was having a boy or girl, or list favorite names, or discuss the pros and cons of one ridiculously expensive stroller versus another one. There were other things to say.
‘How excited is Max? I can’t even imagine! He’s been talking about babies since the day you met.’
‘I haven’t told him.’ Andy said this so quietly she wasn’t sure Lily heard her.
‘You haven’t told him?’
‘Things are weird between us. I found a letter from Barbara the day of our wedding, and I can’t stop thinking about it,’ Andy said.
‘Weird how, exactly? Weird enough to make you not tell your husband you’re carrying his baby?’
Once she started talking, she couldn’t stop. She told Lily everything, absolutely everything, including some of the details she hadn’t even admitted to Emily. How she debated asking for some time apart to think and was five seconds away from telling Max when she got the call from Mr Kevin. How she didn’t want to touch him. Andy even managed to articulate, for the very first time, how she couldn’t stop wondering if Max was telling her the entire truth about Katherine.
‘So … there you have it. Pretty picture, isn’t it?’ Andy pulled the elastic out of her ponytail and shook her hair. She laid her cheek against her pink floral pillow and inhaled: it was probably just the same Tide or Bounce or whatever, but it smelled like her childhood, and she didn’t ever want it to change.
‘I don’t even know what to say. Do you want me to come there? I can leave Bear with Bodhi, probably, and be on a plane tomorrow …’
‘Thanks, Lil, but I’m headed to Anguilla for work in the morning. And you were just here. But I appreciate it.’
‘You
poor thing! And screw Barbara! What a witch. But god, you must feel so vulnerable! I distinctly remember being pregnant with Bear and having these fears, terrors really, that Bodhi was going to leave me stranded, pregnant, alone. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about expecting a baby that puts you in this … this mind-set. I can’t explain it.’
‘No, you just did, and I know exactly what you mean. A week ago I was considering a time-out to think things through. Give us a chance to be honest with each other and really figure things out. It wasn’t going to be easy, but I was doing it. Now? There’s a baby! Max’s baby. And I want to be upset with him, but I already love his baby.’
‘Oh, Andy. I know. It’s just the beginning.’
Andy sniffed. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying.
‘You think you love that baby now? Just wait.’
‘I … I just thought it would be different.’
Lily was quiet for a moment. Andy knew her friend well enough to know that Lily was debating bringing up her own experience, as worried as she probably was about turning the focus back to her. But then she said, ‘I know, sweetie. You have this vision that you’re going to wake up one day next to your adoring husband of two years, and you’re going to stroll into the bathroom together to look at the stick you just peed on, and you’re both going to collapse back onto the bed together in joy and excitement, hugging and laughing and thrilled. And he’ll come to every appointment with you and rub your feet and buy you pickles and ice cream. Well, you know how often that happens? Like, never. But I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t make it any less wonderful.’
Lauren Weisberger 5-Book Collection: The Devil Wears Prada, Revenge Wears Prada, Everyone Worth Know Page 163