Love and Miss Communication (33 page)

Dear Alexia,

I really appreciate everything you’ve done so far for me and Edward. Thank you for helping us to book the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. We know it’ll be an exquisite setting for our wedding, even if the beetle exhibit will still be on display in the reception hall and the bathrooms will be under renovation. What’s a wedding without “The Royal Flush” Porta Potties?

It has come to our attention that you are related to two of the vendors you passionately
encouraged us to hire. Thanks to Facebook, I have determined that DJ Rhapsody is your son and Flowers Flowers Flowers is owned by your cousin Stephan. I feel you should have disclosed these affiliations to us prior to saying that they were the only people up to the job.

As an interior designer (and the unofficial new set designer for the Greenwich Town Thespians), I am confident that I will be able to create the wedding of my dreams without your assistance, even though you told me my taste in table linens was “questionable.” Further, there is nothing “cliché” about an all-white wedding. It is classic and tasteful, and it suits our style.

We have mailed you a check for the portion of your services which you have already rendered.

Very best regards,

Evie Rosen

P.S. You really need to contract with a new calligrapher. I don’t know if she’s your relation as well, but Charlotte Appleby (“the best of the best” you promised) addressed a number of the invitations incorrectly. We had a hard time explaining to the matron of honor why her invitation was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Jake Poo. It’s L-O-O!!! And you are lucky my grandmother B-E-T-T-E doesn’t see so well, because her name was misspelled as B-E-T-T-Y. This is a woman who is planning to frame both the invitation and the envelope. (I guess she wasn’t certain this day would ever come.)

“Well, Susan, what do you think?”

“It’s perfect, Evie. You have a way with words. Besides, you don’t need a wedding planner. I’m here to help.”

“You are?” Evie asked in disbelief. “I thought you were here on business.”

“There’s time for everything.”

Susan had e-mailed her a couple of weeks earlier asking if she and Wyatt could stay for a few days. Evie had Edward’s place now to seek refuge, so she didn’t object. She was dying to see Wyatt anyway.

“Whatever. I’m just glad I can fire her over e-mail. I would not have relished doing this face-to-face, or even on the phone. Thank God I’m back online.”

“Back online?” Susan asked, confused.

“I told you I quit the Internet, remember? You said I could be part of the New Horizons antitechnology movement.” Evie tried to jog her aunt’s impaired-by-God-knows-what memory.

Susan smiled patronizingly. “Evie, honestly, going off-line? That is so passé. What matters now is Responsible Internetism.”

“Glad I’m with the times.”

“Indeed. Listen, Evie, you’re an angel to let me stay with you again. We had such a good time when I was here last.”

“Grandma was having major surgery then. We didn’t know if she was going to live.”

“Well, yes, I know. But you and I got to catch up. And you met Wyatt.”

Upon hearing his name, the darling boy toddled into the room, holding one of Evie’s shoes. He had the drunken gait of a new walker. Wyatt had grown so much in just a few months. Now he had the face of a little man and could feed himself Cheerios, one sloppy handful at a time.

“Mama!” he exclaimed, grabbing at Susan’s ankle.

“Yes, sugar. You’re going to spend time with Aunt Evie this week.”

Aunt! Still!

“So why exactly are you in New York again? Your e-mail was a bit confusing.”

“Yes! Yes! You need to meet my business partner before I fully explain. He’ll be here any minute. It’s my friend Anton. He also lives at New Horizons. Even though I came up with the idea, I cut him in because of his marketing expertise. You’ll love him. I’ll get him to make you some of his famous tempeh empanadas.”

“Speaking of food, I ordered you a vegan meal for the wedding.”

“Oh, that’s going to be a problem. Didn’t I mention to you in my e-mail that I’m only foraging now?”

“Not at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, you’re not. You better BYO or else you’re going to be very hungry.”

Susan just let out a whimper, to which Evie paid no mind.

“He’s here!” Susan exclaimed when Evie’s intercom buzzed moments later.

Anton greeted Susan with a kiss on the lips. Some friend. He was a dead ringer for Jerry Garcia, if the singer had subsisted on a strict diet of Cherry Garcia. And why was he carrying a suitcase?

“You must be Evie,” he said. “It is so nice of you to put us up while we’re in New York.”

Us?

“Anton, I didn’t ask Evie yet if you could stay here too. Evie, you wouldn’t mind would you?” Susan gave Evie puppy-dog eyes, but there was nothing irresistible about a sixty-plus lunatic who couldn’t keep her family relations straight.

When Evie didn’t answer right away, Anton said, “We’ll happily put you and your fiancé up at New Horizons whenever you like.”

That was doing less than zero to sweeten the deal. Even though she could flee to Edward’s, she wasn’t crazy about the
trio of Susan, Anton, and Wyatt (damn cute but quite the little devil) crashing at her place unsupervised.

“Fine. One night though, okay. I’m back in school now and I have a lot of reading to do. So what is this business you two are working on?”

“We are starting an online wet nurse business. People who can’t breastfeed for medical reasons or because they adopted often want their babies to get breast milk. But there’s no guarantee the wet nurse is eating a strictly organic diet. My business will help mothers connect with organic wet nurses. You can be an investor if you’d like. I’m offering the opportunity to family and friends first.”

“Um, thanks, but I’m feeling a little strapped.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Let me show you something.” She yanked the rubber band off a rolled-up poster in her duffel bag. The sign said
MA NATURE
’
S MILK
and had a picture of an Asian baby suckling the breast of a robust black woman while she ate leaves directly off of a tree.

“Pretty great, don’t you think?” Susan said. “Anton used to be a graphic designer for Coca-Cola.”

“It is professional-looking,” Evie said. “And very diverse.”

“Thank you. I’m doing this all for Wyatt. Now I have another mouth to feed. With Ma Nature’s Milk, of course.”

“Anton’s wife is in charge of PR,” Evie’s aunt added nonchalantly. “We’re going with a strictly social media campaign.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Anton—you’re married? Your wife doesn’t mind your, um, friendship with Susan?”

“Not a bit,” he said.

“Rain’s my best friend. She loves that I keep Anton off her back,” Susan said with a wink, reaching into Evie’s cupboards. “Do you have spelt? I need to feed Wyatt.”

Evie must have looked incredulous because Susan sat down and put a hand on her knee.

“Evie, honey, there is no one set path. Life is much better with complication. Trust me,” Susan said, brimming with conviction. Her words echoed what Jack had said on the phone months earlier.

What a crock.

She only wished Edward was with her at that very moment to exchange an intimate eye roll. She’d tell him later, once they were tucked cozily into their shared bed after an ordered-in dinner and an
Antiques Roadshow
marathon.

# # #

The bulbous, fleshy boob of an unfamiliar Asian woman was the first thing Evie and Edward saw when they returned hand in hand to her apartment late the following afternoon, light-headed from a day of choosing wines for the reception. Susan, Anton, and Wyatt were supposed to have relocated to the Holiday Inn on Fifty-Seventh Street by now.

“I’m Angela,” the topless woman said from her perch on Evie’s beloved sectional. At her feet were three babies, including Wyatt, chewing on various of Evie’s treasured objects—an expensive cashmere throw, the cover of an out-of-print Chanel coffee-table book, and most catastrophic of all, her new fuzzy slippers.

The dining room table, where she had her spread out her books and sketches from design class, was now covered with enough electronic equipment to service a Kinkos.

Around the table sat several other strangers. Susan and Anton were nowhere to be seen.

“Hi,” Evie said tentatively, when no one in the room offered any explanation for their presence.

“Are you here for the shoot?” a bald man sitting at the table
asked her. He had a pack of cigarettes poking out of his breast pocket. Evie would kill him if she found out he had smoked in her apartment.

“The shoot?” Evie asked.

“Yeah, for Nature’s Best Milk.”

“It’s called Ma Nature’s Milk,” a gaunt woman with blue hair, also seated at Evie’s table, corrected and returned to crocheting.

“Okay, everyone, sorry about that. We’re back,” Susan announced, entering the apartment. “Oh good, Evie, Edward, you’re both here. You can give us input.” Anton followed behind Susan, carrying a camera with a ten-inch lens.

“Aunt Susan, what the hell is going on here?” Evie demanded, gesturing toward the naked woman on her couch.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Evie. Everyone will clear out in just a few minutes. Anton left our PowerPoint presentation for the investors at home, so we had to quickly scramble to put something together here. I hope you don’t mind. We just need to shoot a few pictures, and then your apartment will be back to normal.”

“How did you get all these people here on such short notice?”

“Craigslist.”

Of course.

“Susan,” Edward spoke up. “Evie is really stressed about the wedding. She has school projects to do. I think you’ve got to find another place to work.”

“We’re almost done. I promise,” Susan said. “By the way, I’d love your input on our model, since you are the breast expert. Do you think her chest will photograph well?”

“Evie,” Edward said, pulling his fiancée back out the door. “I have to go. Like right now.” He looked dangerously close to hyperventilating.

“I know, I know. But I need to stay until these people clear
out. Our response cards are here. My dress is hanging in the closet. I can’t leave with these crazies milling about.”

“Five minutes tops, Evie. I promise,” Susan said, completely unoffended.

“Angela,” she directed. “It’s go time. Let’s use Wyatt in this shot. Put him to your breast and hold the apple with your other hand. And don’t forget to smile.”

“Okay everybody,” Anton called out. He lifted the camera to his face. “SAAAAYYYY FACEBOOK!”

“That’s it,” Edward said, wrapping his arms around Evie. “I’m quitting the Internet too.”

“I don’t think you’ll be alone after this.”

“Forget the response cards, Evie. I just want to leave this apartment, take you to my place, kiss you, and celebrate how normal we are. Can you live with that?”

“Forever.”

It takes a village to write and publish a book and I am deeply indebted to the many people who helped make
Love and Miss Communication
a reality.

The team at William Morrow couldn’t have been better. Thank you to my brilliant and quick-witted editor, Lucia Macro, for responding so enthusiastically to the novel and embracing Evie wholeheartedly. Major gratitude is owed to the marketing team, specifically Jennifer Hart and Molly Birckhead, and to my publicist, Katie Steinberg, for helping this book reach so many diverse readers. Shelly Perron did an excellent and precise job of copyediting, no doubt a tireless task. Jeanie Lee was a wonderful production editor. Julia Gang, who designed the cover, totally nailed it on the first try and for that I am so grateful. Nicole Fischer, you were so on top of everything, I really appreciate it. Finally, thank you to Liate Stehlik, the publisher at William Morrow, for taking a chance on this first-time novelist. I’m so proud to be a part of the William Morrow family.

My agent, Linda Chester, who has more publishing experience in her thumb than I do in my entire body, did an amazing job bringing this book to market. Thank you for supporting my efforts, believing so strongly in the importance of good books, and encouraging my career so passionately.

Tanya Farrell of Wunderkind PR did an amazing job of spreading the word about this book and organizing so many special appearances for me.

Anika Steitfeld Luskin: Where do I start? Only you know how helpful you were to me. You not only made
Love and Miss Communication
a much better book, you also made my life so much richer through your friendship.

I had many early readers, and in particular I want to thank Jennifer Belle, Sara Houghteling, and Cristina Alger, all extremely talented authors, for their invaluable comments. A special shout-out to another Houghteling, Charlotte, who is just the most optimistic and encouraging human on earth. I am also indebted to Dr. Jaime Knopman and Dr. Lynn Friedman, who kindly took time from their busy schedules to educate me about breast cancer fertility issues.

My husband, William, is my rock and my best friend. I feel like the luckiest person on earth to have him by my side. With equal parts encouragement and coddling, he nursed this endeavor and pushed me to keep on going. And of course I want to thank my beautiful children Charlie, Lila, and Sam. You may have interrupted me at least a thousand times while I was trying to write, but it was worth it every time just to see your faces. I love you infinitely. My parents, Shelley and Jerry Folk, are pretty much a child’s dream come true. They provided me with everything I needed and more to succeed, and they continue to sustain me with boundless love. In particular my mom, to whom this book
is dedicated, listened to me talk about this book ad nauseam for the past few years and truly is my biggest fan. To all my extended family—my loving in-laws, Marilyn and Larry Friedland; the Folks; the Meyers; the Rabinovicis; and the Friedlands—it feels amazing to be surrounded by so much love every day. You guys are the best. To my friends, too numerous to name (lucky me!), you make me smile and laugh every day and truly enrich my life. Finally, Jason, if you were here today, I know just how proud you would be.