To: Natalie Trent; Isabel Parisi
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: December 23
Subject: What to Wear
Okay, prom queens. This on the sly. I made sure we're all on the guest list
again for the big Monticello Ball on New Year's Eve. Let’s travel together. I'll
book the cab now, because it will be a nightmare otherwise, and three of us
riding together will cut costs.
Speaking of which, I polished the Monticello shoes I got at last year's ball and
am still trying to decide what to wear, unless I stick with the black dress I
found at the Christmas sales last year. The Dolce & Gabbana pantsuit is
definitely out. I went window-shopping on my lunch hour yesterday, but, God,
anything I remotely liked cost more than the rest of my entire wardrobe put
together. Help! Nat, are there any sample sales coming up?
What are you two wearing? Don't forget it's a masked ball. I love those. So much
mystery and the possibilities of intrigue endless. <g>
Oh, oh. The great Rafe Monticello approaches. No doubt with some little goodbye
trinket for his latest babe kiss-off that he wants me to find a way to write off
his taxes. ngth!
TTYS,
Arianne
To: Arianne Sorenson; Natalie Trent
From: IsabelParisi@NYLetterbox.com
Date: December 24
Subject: RE: What to Wear
One — Happy Christmas Eve! Two — stop panicking about what to wear and focus on
the holidays instead. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlewomen, and all that.
In fact, I hereby declare a moratorium on shopping until after Christmas. That
still gives you a week to figure it out. Me, I can yank any old rag out of the
closet, maybe even wrap sari fabric around myself and go as a Hindu goddess.
Good enough for a dress that will be history as soon as I find my boy toy for
the night. Remember, my chickies, this New Year's Eve is not about What to Wear.
It's about picking out a MAN to wear. No more pining over Joe the Disappearing
Man and a certain hot, sexy, millionaire boss.
The Mahatma predicts: Whatever we wear, we will conquer this party in style.
Isabel
To: Isabel Parisi; Arianne Sorenson
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: December 25
Subject: Merry Christmas!!
Hope your collective Christmas Day was spent doing something much more thrilling
than struggling to write an article for Women’s World Daily that is going
nowhere. While we're on the subject of thrilling, in an hour Christmas will be
over and I still have nothing decadent or exciting to wear to the Monticello
Ball. But I have a radical, totally unexpected plan (hah!), hence this late
night email.…
Shopping! We must go shopping.
Arianne, your heart should start to flutter in anticipation of all those
after-Christmas sales. And, Isabel, if you come, I promise not to complain once
if you want to cruise the thrift shops. Promise.
So, what do you say, girls? Too tempting to ignore, huh? That settles it, then.
Tomorrow. My place. 9:00 a.m. We’ll shop till the sales clerks drop, and we’ll
do lunch at the Hotel Essex.
Bergdorf’s, here we come!
Nat
To: Arianne; Natalie
From: IsabelParisi@NYLetterbox.com
Date: December 25
Subject: RE: Merry Christmas!!
9 freaking a.m.? Ugh, my evening was spent drinking too many eggnogs with the
motley crew of irregulars I call family. Can't imagine what my head will feel
like if I raise it off the pillow before elevenish. But if you throw in the
chance to lurk in the Bergdorf's linen department caressing the lovely silks,
suedes and Sea Island cottons, I may cave. I’m so weak.
But don’t even try to trick me into buying a dress, Nat. I went through my
fabric closet and found some scrumptious old French lace that a seamstress
friend will run up for me. Not designer swank, but it's me. Old lace +
see-through chiffon = lotsa skin. I can shop for a new thong; how's that?
Missed you today, girlfriends. Nat, you should’ve come by my loft instead of
holing up in your dinky apartment. Work? What's that about? Not even Arianne
would work on Christmas Day. Unless, of course, Rafe Monticello asked her to,
ahem, balance his books. ;-)
The clock just chimed. It's after midnight, making us ghosts of Christmas Past.
Luv ya, angel babies. Merry Christmas…and a randy New Year!
XOXO,
Isabel
P.S. Did you say something about a plan, Nat? A plan that needs a decadent and
exciting gown? That sounds like my kind of plan. I may even arrive on time. Ciya!
To: Isabel; Natalie
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Dec 25
Subject: RE: RE: Merry Christmas!!
Have snuck away with my laptop for some sanity. I love my family, you know I do,
but what is it about Christmas that always makes a single woman feel, well, so
single?
Rafe insisted on giving me extra time off, but how could I tell him I'd rather
darn all those old socks I've been saving than spend the holidays explaining my
current state of singleness? They say they only want to see me happy (i.e.
living in suburbia with 2.5 kids). Plus, there was the update on my ex-fiancé
who is happily married now and — you guessed it — living in the suburbs. The
prairies, actually, but that's even better for my parents. It's so safe out
there.
It's all right for Rafe with his big Italian family. No one picks on him for
being single. Not that he's ever single, just not married. But that's another
story.
Anyhow, the turkey's eaten, I've had the annual lecherous butt pinch from Uncle
Lester and I'm ready to bay at the moon. Shopping sounds fantastic!
luv u
Arianne
To: Tom Grace
From: IsabelParisi@NYLetterbox.com
Date: Dec 26
Subject: holiday cheering up
Dear Beastly Boy: It’s minutes past twelve, Christmas is over and I’m thinking
about my favorite huggable beast (at least I imagine you as huggable). I wanted
my "Merry, merry" to be waiting when you get back to Brooklyn, in case you’re
feeling like the odd man out. Nah, you probably had a grand time in Connecticut,
with caroling, roast goose, wassail and whatever else WASPs do to celebrate
Christmas. Yule logs? Matching sweaters?
So. Ahem. I called my mom. We had a good talk until she guilted me about never
visiting, even though she knows I won’t come near the stepmonster. Then the
bawling started. Aye yi yi! But I do thank you for urging me to make the
attempt. Some good may come of it yet….
Afterward, I went to help serve Christmas dinner at the shelter, then (should
you think I’m turning into Mother Theresa) had a raucous good time with my buds.
Mostly we hung around the loft, overeating and guzzling eggnog and Irish coffee.
In the morning, Nat and Arianne are dragging me on yet another never-ending
shopping excursion around Manhattan. For fun, I’m dressing up like Carrie
Bradshaw. They’ll freak.
Big bear hugs from your ragamuffin Beauty in a hoody and wool socks (more
matchstick girl than Sex and the City because the heat’s on the blink again).
"See" you soon, Tom.
Isabel
To: Isabel; Arianne
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: December 27
Subject: 2nd Thoughts
Quick! Someone pass me a Nembutal! The Anna Molinari dress I bought to wear to
the party is too much. Correction — it's not enough. As in not enough material
to cover my ass!!
Yes, I know we discussed this very subject extensively at lunch, and Isabel is
right. If I really do want to put an end to this stupid, self-imposed celibacy I
must be daring, but do I have to be so daring half naked? What do you think of
the black Versace? Safer?
H.E.L.P.
Nat
To: Isabel; Natalie
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Dec 27
Subject: Shoes!
Okay, not just shoes, Monticellos! Just had the most annoying email from the
most annoying Monticello of all, and you know the one I mean. He of the dark
smoldering Italian looks and the heart of a Manhattan socialite — can men be
socialites? Anyhow, you know how I always request black Monticellos for the New
Year's party gift? I love those shoes so much, and each pair lasts me a year. So
even though you're not supposed to specify color, I always do, since I work
here, and if I have to put up with Latin Lover's exploits, there should be some
benefits, right?
So Rafe sends me this e and tells me they are out of stock in black.
I know that's not true, because I checked the stock, which he must have figured
out I'd do. So my question to you two is, what the hell is going on?
Arianne
To: Natalie
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Dec 27
Subject: RE: 2nd Thoughts
Natalie, NO! The past year proves you're not cut out to be a play-it-safe girl.
Besides, Arianne's wearing black (she's so safe that baseball refs are now
hollering "Arianne!" at home plate). Go with the gold. You're so sexy in the
gold, I'd do you. But don't let that stop you, hahaha. 8-0
D.A.R.E.
Iz
To: Arianne
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Dec 27
Subject: RE: Shoes!
Rafe is a) toying with you, b) getting you out of your rut. To that I can only
say: Let him! Pleeeeeze! I've seen the smoldering looks he gives you when you're
not watching. It's about time you two got on with it.
This is going to be an incredible New Year's Eve party. Nat's gonna get some,
too, if we can convince her to wear the scandalous gold dress. I'll bring a
supply of condoms, just in case. ;-)
Isabel
P.S. Tell Rafe that I hate heels.
To: Isabel Parisi
From: Tom@Gracenotes.biz
Date: Dec 28
Subject: RE: holiday cheering up
Isabel, ma belle: It's good you talked to your mom. Don't worry about the
crying. She was overwhelmed. Remember, you can't make up in a day. Baby steps,
Beauty, baby steps.
All went well at the Graces. No cooked goose — not even mine — but plenty of
baked ham. Miles, our Golden, got the bone. Of course, my brother was home
bragging about his Porsche, and my sister's been named Surgeon of the Decade,
while my greatest achievement was designing a better footstool. Thank God
I'm over the competition thing. Or is that what losers say?
Hell. Like that'll make you want to meet me face-to-face. When it happens,
you'll know me by the L on my forehead. But think about it anyway,
Isabel. How about New Year's? If you don't already have plans, I'll hire a limo
and take you on a magical whirl around the city. A couple glasses of the bubbly
will get us past the initial awkwardness.
Just a thought. No pressure. Thanks for the holiday cheer.
Tom
P.S. Who's Carrie Bradshaw? A Knicks cheerleader?
To: Rafe Monticello
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: December 29
Subject: Your Expense Account
Dear Rafe,
Would you please explain how you came to spend three thousand dollars on a
weekend in Monte Carlo? This does not include travel expenses. It's not that I
personally care for the details of your wild weekends, but the IRS might be
interested in how you see this as a business expense.
Regards,
Arianne Sorenson
To: Arianne Sorenson
From: RafeMonticello@Monticello.com
Date: December 29
Subject: RE: Your Expense Account
Dear Arianne,
Have you ever been to Monte Carlo? Believe me, my thrifty one, it is not a place
for counting pennies. Naturally, while on business, I had to keep up the
Monticello name. The dinners were expensive, of course, the wines the best, and
the company…well, I've never said one shouldn't mix a little pleasure with
business, now have I?
Perhaps you'll recall that we landed a huge retail account in Milan after the
weekend that I wined and dined the executives. And if you're thinking there was
anything suspicious in paying for the hotel room of a certain young woman, ease
the IRS's prudish mind. She was the vice president of marketing.
If you need more details, don't hesitate to ask.
Ever,
Rafe
To: Natalie
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: December 29
Subject: in a fix
Nat, I've seen you turn guys down with a flick of your lashes and still leave
‘em dazzled, so you have to help. Remember Tom Grace, the furniture designer
I've been emailing? Well, he just asked me out for New Year's Eve!!
For a while now, he's been hinting about getting together. I've been adept at
squirming away. This time it's an out-and-out invitation. Natch, I'm telling him
no. I even have the perfect excuse — Rafe's Monticello Ball. But how do I let
Tom down easy? He's a sweet, good-hearted guy, but only a friend. We can't meet.
I'd die. He knows all my secrets!
Iz
To: Isabel
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Dec 29
Subject: RE: in a fix
Oh, I don't know…take a risk and maybe meet the guy? And don't you dare hit the
delete key!! It was only a suggestion.
Seriously Iz, be bold like I know you are. Be a cliché; take a book and a rose
with you to meet this guy for a cuppa and be done with it. You never know, you
might find that nice guys are really nice. Otherwise, just play coy, be evasive
and say you prefer to remain a mystery.
Hey! If this guy really isn't just another frog, could you ask him if he has a
brother?
Chief Frog Inspector Natalie Trent
To: Nat
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Dec 29
Subject: RE: RE: in a fix
Dear Frog Kisser: C'mon! I'm no Meg Ryan sweetie pie. You know that I'd crush a
nice guy. We'd meet, we'd be attracted, we'd wind up boinking, I'd panic and I'd
dump him. I don't want to do that to Tom. He's…different.
Evasive it is. Thanks anyhow. BTW, I hear frog tastes like chicken. You need
more spice in your life!
Isabel
To: Tom
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Dec 29
Subject: RE: RE: holiday cheering up
Tom, hon, I'm in a rush — have to meet a richy-rich client who's decided that
the fabric I designed for her overpriced children's clothes needs more
daisies (puke). Just wanted to say real fast that I'm glad you're back.
Unfortunately, my New Year's plans are set. Going to the fancy Monticello Ball
at the fanciest private home in the city. Very chi-chi and exclusive. I'm in
only as the host's textile designer du jour and a friend of his
accountant (I've mentioned Arianne, right?). So sorry. Um…maybe next year?
And we'll always have email. :-)
Best,
Iz
To: Arianne
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Dec 29
Subject: Isabel
Ari — I think I know what's up with Iz. It's a man! Her email correspondent. Do
you believe it? He wants to meet, but she's nervous. This could actually be
something serious.
Nat
To: Natalie; Arianne
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 3, almost midnight
Subject: mmmmm
Girls. Haven't heard from either of you since our New Year's Day brunch. I
started to pick up the phone, but…um…well…I have this curious lack of energy. So
glad laptops can be taken to bed.
Rather like me.
Tom is here. TOM GRACE, my email guy. That's all I'll say for now. Except…
OHMIGAWWWWD!
Write soon; I'm dying to know what's happening with Joe & Rafe. Oh man, the
click of the keys woke Tom and he has that look in his eyes. I gotta go —
To: Arianne; Isabel
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 4, almost noon
Subject: RE: mmmmm
Don't you love Sunday mornings spent in bed — with a man? Ahhh. <wink wink>
Joe will be back from taking Cleo for her walk, so I only have a sec. Lots of
details coming soon, but thought you'd both want to know he's so NOT a frog!!
Iz, don't leave us hanging too long. What happened to the mystery man from the
masquerade ball? How did Tom end up in your bed? And, Arianne — where are you?
Did the red dress do the trick with Rafe?
Joe's home. Gotta run.
Nat
To: Natalie; Arianne
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 4
Subject: RE: RE: mmmmm
JOE? CLEO? Natalie Trent, are you involved in a kinky ménage à trois and you
forgot to invite me?!
Huh. That's what I get for letting Tom turn me into a nice girl. Yup, it's true.
Me ‘n' Tom — we're together. Even stranger, him and the masked man — one and the
same! Unbelievably, I got an email from him the day after the party (right after
our brunch) admitting that he'd been my boy toy mystery lover on New Year's Eve.
Turns out he put on a tux and a mask and tracked me down to Rafe's party. So
sneaky.
I was seriously mad when I found out, positive he'd ruined our beautiful email
friendship, but now I'm kinda sorta thinking of giving him a chance. Just
thinking, mind you! And only because Tom has very, very nice means of
persuasion.
So Joe's back? And then there's Rafe and our lady in red. It's not like Arianne
to drop out of sight, so I'm assuming she put on the dress and killer shoes and
knocked him for a loop. I think I'm actually starting to believe in
happily-ever-after endings.…
We need to get together soon. Maybe even all six of us?! Could it be true?
Isabel,
thoroughly blissed-out, not thinking straight & not responsible 4 ditzy emails
To: Isabel; Arianne
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 4
Subject: So Not Kinky -- Sorry!
No kinky ménage here, my darlinks. Well, unless an adorable chocolate lab puppy
snoring (and I do mean snoring) at our feet counts. And no, she's not snoring
there while Joe and I are dancing the horizontal mambo beneath the sheets. Okay,
so maybe there is some kinky stuff going on but strictly between the two-legged
beasts.
Or between the legs of the two-legged beasts? <batting eyelashes not so
innocently>
I'm giddy. Over the top giddy and I can't stop smiling.
Yes, to answer all your questions before you ask, I did forgive Joe. Totally
logical explanation for his disappearing act last year. He was called away to
duty; top secret, hush-hush, cone of silence stuff. He's retired from the navy
now and on permanent shore leave. Does this mean my ship has come in?
Where is Ari? Has she come up for air yet?
Nat
To: Isabel; Natalie
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 5
Subject: I can't stop crying!
OMG! You won't believe it. First there's the masquerade party where Rafe and I
made our own fireworks at midnight, and then there's the red shoes he surprised
me with and the slinky red dress I surprised him with (yes, the same dress you
two pushed me into wearing — yes, pushed) and now I'm so happy and
grateful and over the moon, I can't stop crying.
I'm telling you, I'm losing it. I keep forgetting to breathe. You know how
worried I was about being one of Rafe's disposable women, wined and dined and
swept off my feet for a couple of months, then dropped with a Tiffany's trinket
as a goodbye gift. Well…
Not to go into too many details, but, Iz, you were absolutely right. New Year's
Day, Rafe arrived at my apartment, he took one look at that dress and, ahem, we
never made it out of my apartment. Don't worry; I was very careful with the
dress. I only had it on for five minutes. <g>
I'm having trouble writing this; I wanted to tell you in person, but I can't
wait. You're both asleep still, and so is Rafe. It's early. Soon I'll brew
coffee and take it into him, just like a wife. And, oh, Lord, I'm so ditzy I
went and spoiled my surprise. Yes. He did. He asked me to marry him.
I love him and he loves me and all that time he was deliberately trying to make
me jealous. He swears he had no idea how well it was working. Hah! I got a
jewelry box all right, but not from Tiffany's. He gave me his grandmother's ruby
ring. It's so beautiful. I feel like I've gone from a woman who was always in
black to one in nothing but red. Although, for an accountant, that's a pretty
scary thought. ;-)
So hurry up and wake up. I want the phone ringing with congratulations.
I love you guys. Thanks for helping me. I'm thrilled for both of you, too. Iz,
promise you'll give Tom a real chance? Maybe you'll like being a good girl. Nat,
I'm so pleased that you forgave Joe. It was obvious at the brunch how much you
love him. And I'm dying to hear all the details. Soon, I promise.
For now, I'm still reeling. Sorry about dropping out of sight, but the weekend
passed in a daze. If I click the heels of my ruby slippers together, will I wake
up on some hurricane-flattened farm in Kansas?
Arianne,
off to brew coffee for her man
To: Natalie
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 5
Subject: sneak attack
Natalie, can you believe Arianne? That scamp! I just called her apartment and
she actually went to work. This is unacceptable.
Let's stage a sneak attack. Put down Joe, leash up Cleo (or the other way
around), and let's storm Ari's office with flowers, champagne and girlish
squeals of excitement. We have an engagement to celebrate!
Some kind of New Year it's turning out to be, huh?
Isabel
To: Arianne
From: RafeMonticello@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 12
Subject: Monte Carlo
Well, my thrifty one, I've come up with a plan that should please you and the
IRS, since you're both so interested in my business trips. Come with me. We'll
fly to Rome, see some sights, meet some clients and head to Monte Carlo for the
weekend. You can calculate every deductible expense, my darling. And I promise
you some very non-deductible down time.
Oh, and did I mention you'll be meeting my family?
Love,
Rafe
To: Rafe
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 12
Subject: RE: Monte Carlo
Which am I, business or pleasure?
Arianne
To: Arianne
From: RafeMonticello@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 12
Subject: RE: RE: Monte Carlo
Darling, if you have to ask that, I haven't been doing my job properly.
Let me explain. When we're with clients, it's business. You will wear a suit and
something from the classic elegance line of Monticellos and you will be
charming. When we're alone, you’ll wear nothing but the lingerie we will be
buying at a little place I know in Rome and shoes from our glamour collection.
I get hot just thinking of you in our shoes and nothing else.
Love,
Rafe
To: Rafe
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 12
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Monte Carlo
Really, this is a terrible abuse of company email, you know. What if someone saw
your messages?
I'll pack the red shoes. They always have the desired effect on you. And what
will you be wearing?
A
To: Arianne
From: RafeMonticello@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 12
Subject: Need you ask…?
What will I be wearing? The biggest boner you've ever seen, cara.
And a smile.
Love,
Rafe
To: Isabel; Natalie
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 12
Subject: Cyber you-know-what
He wants me to go to Monte Carlo with him. Gaagh!! And I think he's trying to
have cyber sex with me.
How the hell do you have cybersex anyway? Are there, like, rules? I sort of want
to, but what if someone sees?
What's up with you two? Is Cleo sleeping through the night yet? Is Joe? <g>
Ari
To: Arianne; Natalie
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 12
Subject: RE: Cyber you-know-what
Monte Carlo? That’s so decadent. Is this a work trip, or practice for the
honeymoon? How will you survive if it’s both and you’re forced to mix business
with pleasure? Pardon me while I gloat. The irony is delicious.
As for the cybersex, you’ll have to ask Natalie. Tom hasn’t let me out of his
sight for the past week, and I’m getting a tad claustrophobic. If he hadn’t
taken me out dancing last night and kept me so exhausted from the IRL sex every
night, I might have been making a break for it.
Isabel
To: Tom
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 13
Subject: Beauty and the Beast Do Manhattan
Tom, the other night was superb. I’m still overwhelmed. Usually my dates take me
to The One and Only Original Original Ray’s for pizza (and that’s when
they’re hoping to get laid), and here you are, Mr. Romance himself, with
reservations at The Rainbow Room. I don’t care if it’s cheesy and overrun by
tourists — I loved it. I love the way you make me feel special. I love the way
you tie the ribbons on my Monticello shoes. I love the way you untie the ribbons
on my dress. I love your hands, your arms, your furry-beast chest. I love your
eyes and what they say to me, your lips and what they do to me, your entire face
as it grows more familiar and handsome each time I see you. I love everything
about you. Must stop now before I embarrass myself.
Oops, too late.
Love, love, love,
Isabel
To: Nat; Ari
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 13
Subject: freak out
Do not answer this email. It's a cyber-freakout to the only people I trust not
to rub my nose in my idiocy. I just sent the most ridiculous, mushy, gushy note
to Tom, right after I made him go home for a day and leave me alone. I'm such a
dork, getting all giddy over this affair when it's sure to end in disaster. I
mean, so far, so good, but that's not going to last. It can't possibly last. Can
it? Don't answer me. It’s obvious that neither of you are thinking straight,
either.
Iz
To: Isabel
From: Tom@Gracenotes.biz
Date: Jan 13
Subject: Bellissima!
Coming over now. Be naked and under the covers, warming up the bed. One night
apart was too many as far as I’m concerned. If you need space, I’ll huddle out
on the fire escape until you open the window and let me in again. You know you
will.
Tom
P.S. I’m bringing tools. Not that kind. Well, not only that kind.
To: Natalie Trent
From: JoeSebastian@NYzone.com
Date: Jan 14
Subject: Missing You
I miss you.
JS
To: Ari; Nat
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 14
Subject: No Excuses or Naked Delays Accepted
Where: my loft (no parkas necessary — Tom fixed the heat)
When: Friday night, January 16
What: Engagement celebration featuring Chinese takeout
Bring: YOUR MEN (washed, shaved, revitalized and ready for inspection)
To: Joe
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 14
Subject: Missing You Back
Me, too. Missing you, that is.
Don’t make plans for Friday night. Isabel has invited us and Rafe & Arianne to
her place for Chinese. OMG! Gotta run. Cleo has relocated my red Manolo mules.
Must rescue them.
Me
To: Natalie
From: JoeSebastian@NYzone.com
Date: Jan 15
Subject: Weekend Plans
We already have plans. Didn’t I tell you? We’re spending the weekend in bed —
starting Friday night.
JS
P.S. How are the shoes?
To: Joe
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 15
Subject: RE: Weekend Plans
Sounds promising. But we can spend the weekend in bed after we have
dinner with Isabel, Tom, Rafe & Arianne. Better take advantage of the hot meal
while you can, pal. You’re gonna need it to keep up your strength.
Me
P.S. Shoes? <gasp> Honey, they aren’t just shoes; they’re Manolo Blahniks. Well,
they were. Cleo 2 – Nat 0
To: Natalie
From: JoeSebastian@NYzone.com
Date: Jan 15
Subject: RE: RE: Weekend Plans
Sweetheart, don’t you worry. Stamina isn’t an issue, or do you need a reminder?
I’d tell you to close your eyes and let your imagination take you away, but then
you couldn’t read about the erotic adventure I have planned for you. I have a
better idea, how about I show you instead? My place. Friday after dinner with
your friends. Bring a toothbrush. And only your toothbrush. It’s all you’ll be
needing for the weekend.
JS
To: Isabel; Arianne
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 15
Subject: Friday
Iz — Put us down for Friday. No parkas? I’ll feel absolutely naked! If you need
us to bring anything, just give me a call.
Nat
To: Natalie; Isabel
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 15
Subject: Friday dinner. Not sure we can come.
No excuses? Here's an excuse: We just had our first big fight. I think the
engagement party might be premature. Why do I have such horrible taste in men???
Arianne
To: Natalie
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 18
Subject: The Crash
I knew there’d be a crash, but I thought it’d be me and Tom. Not Arianne. I
still don’t know what’s going on with her or what she and Rafe fought about. You
know how she clams up and withdraws. All she’ll say is "Once a playboy, always a
playboy." I tried to cheer her up with gobbledygook about the power of love, but
I wasn’t really into it. Neither was she. Sorry about the canceled dinner. Not
that you and Joe minded. <g> At least you two might make it….
Iz
To: Isabel; Arianne
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 19
Subject: Is it real?
I’m going to get right to the point: Joe asked me to move in with him. It’s been
less than three weeks. It’s too soon. Isn’t it?
What if he hurts me again? What if I just think I’m in love with him, but I’m
really just infatuated? OMG! Do I love him? How do I know for sure if this time
it’s the real thing? If he’s really the one?
Nat
To: Natalie; Isabel
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 19
Subject: RE: Is it real?
I think maybe I am the wrong person to ask about this right now, but on the
other hand, Isabel is not her usual cynical self and someone has to be cynical.
That would be me.
You've known him three weeks, Nat. Three weeks. You can't break in a pair
of shoes that fast, and you certainly haven't trained that boisterous puppy of
yours in a couple of weeks. Do you really think you're ready for hate to turn to
love in less than a month? Yeah, yeah, I know you and Isabel think I'm too
practical. Once in my life I decide not to be practical and what happens? I end
up engaged to a man who's on a first name basis with all the sales clerks at
Tiffany’s.
Oh, I see this email magically became about me. Sorry about that. I'm just
saying I think you should take this step carefully, Nat. It's a big one and I
don't want to see you hurt again.
luv
Arianne
To: Natalie; Arianne
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 19
Subject: RE: RE: Is it real?
Natalie should go for it. She’s the only one of us with the guts to dare to
really live.
Isabel
To: Natalie; Isabel
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: the dreariest Monday of my life
Subject: Tiffany's!
I know Nat has a big decision to make, but I’m ready to vent and you're my best
friends. So here goes….
I'm Rafe's accountant; did he think I wouldn't see the bills? He just spent five
thousand bucks at Tiffany's. Which of his lady friends is getting the kiss-off?
He swore to me he wasn't seeing anyone, I was the love of his life, blah, blah,
blah. And now this! The five-g item wasn't for me, I'll tell you that. It went
to a Manhattan apartment suspiciously close to Rafe's place. I watch Dr. Phil. I
gave him a chance to explain. He demanded my trust and clammed up.
I hate men! Even Dr. Phil.
Arianne
To: Arianne Sorenson
From: RafeMonticello@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 20, Tuesday
Subject: Monte Carlo
Are you coming or not?
R
To: Rafe Monticello
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 20
Subject: RE: Monte Carlo
Not! Why don't you ask your little Tiffany's friend?
A
To: Arianne
From: RafeMonticello@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 20
Subject: RE: RE: Monte Carlo
You're pissing me off. I'm taking you to lunch.
R
To: Rafe
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 20
Subject: I’m busy
I really am. Very busy.
A
To: Arianne
From: RafeMonticello@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 20
Subject: RE: I’m busy
Get your coat; we're leaving now.
R
To: Rafe
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 20
Subject: RE: RE: I’m busy
It's 9:30 a.m.!
A
To: Natalie; Isabel
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 20
Subject: Men are pigs
I'm going to have to quit my job. The man's out of his mind. He breaks my heart,
now he insists I go to lunch with him. I haven't even digested breakfast yet!
Isabel, I need your talent at dropping a persistent lover you've grown tired of.
I mean your old talent, natch.
I'm going to — oh hell, here he comes. He looks mad, too. Jerk. If you don't
hear from me again, have the East River dragged. Not for my body, for his!
A
To: Isabel
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 23
Subject: I'm on tenterhooks
Hi, Iz. It's Saturday and there's still no word from Arianne. Could the squabble
with Rafe actually be serious? I'm on tenterhooks here, and no one is writing or
calling! Do you have Rafe's number? Arianne's not picking up her messages at
home. Where does one hire river draggers?
Nat
To: Natalie; Isabel
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 24
Subject: I'm such an idiot
Just got home and listened to Nat's phone messages. Sorry about being out of
touch again, but I hope you'll think it was worth it. <g>
When I last left you, Rafe was dragging me out of the building for lunch at 9:30
in the morning — and I do mean drag! You should have seen us; I'm sure I
was like a dog on a leash being yanked away from a wonderfully aromatic tree
trunk. Yuck. Gross image, but you get the idea.
So I told him I don't want lunch. He told me to shut up. Rafe Monticello, Mr.
Smooth Latin Lover, told me to shut up! He didn't even talk to me until we got
to the address where the five-thousand-dollar Tiffany's box was delivered. Of
course, I wouldn't get out of the car. Of course, we reenacted our
dog-being-dragged-from-aromatic-tree-trunk scene again for a new crowd. He
bullied me up the steps of this elegant brownstone, and I nearly died when an
old woman with spun-sugar white hair and a cane answered the door. It was his
godmother. He'd sent her a lovely, really beautiful sterling tea set for her
ninetieth birthday. So, of course, we stayed and had tea. Then we went for
lunch. At his place. Sigh. I love a nice long lunch. And going home with him
after work is even better.
The engagement is back on. Is the celebration dinner? Iz, you've been very
quiet. Everything okay with you and Tom?
Nat, I still think my advice wasn't terrible. Get to know Joe before you move in
together.
luv
Arianne
To: Arianne
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 24
Subject: RE: I'm such an idiot
You really are an idiot. Thank God Rafe loves you anyway.
Isabel
To: Arianne; Isabel
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 25
Subject: Moving In (again)
Now that we've settled Arianne's crisis, can we get back to mine? Joe is still
waiting for my decision and I'm waffling like a Belgian.
Arianne, you're absolutely right. Three weeks isn't nearly long enough to be
dating someone before taking such a huge step in the relationship. So then why
am I hyperventilating just thinking about saying no?
No. No. You are right. It's way too soon.
She is right. Isn't she, Iz?
Nat
To: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
From: Tom@Gracenotes.biz
Date: Jan 25
Subject: What's wrong with Isabel?
Dear Arianne: Excuse me for being presumptuous, but I got your address from one
of Isabel's joint emails. This is Tom Grace, Isabel's — er, I'm not sure what I
am to Isabel these days. Even though she had a panicky moment about needing her
space a couple of weeks ago, I thought we'd gotten past that. Everything's been
going great between us.
But suddenly she's dropped off the radar screen. She told me she needed time
alone, so like a gentleman I agreed, but now she won't even answer my emails or
phone calls. I know she confides in you. I'm not asking you to betray her
confidence, but I'm going crazy here. What's wrong with Isabel?
Thanks in advance for any insight you can share,
Tom Grace
To: Tom@Gracenotes.biz
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 25
Subject: RE: What's wrong with Isabel?
Dear Tom,
Thank you for your email. Please don't worry about Isabel, I'm sure she'll be
fine. She had a touch of stomach flu last time I talked to her. I'm glad she has
you to worry about her, but, as I'm sure you know, she hates being fussed over.
best,
Arianne
To: Isabel
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 25
Subject: Pick up the damn phone!
Isabel, please pick up your phone and call me back. I just had an email from Tom
asking what's wrong with you. Is there something? I know you like your privacy,
but you're usually a chatterbox on email, and I'm getting very concerned with
this unusual silence.
Arianne
To: Joe
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 27
Subject: I've Been Thinking…
…about us moving in together.
Joe, I — I just don't know if I'm ready to take that kind of step so soon in our
relationship. I realize I've been spending more time at your new place than my
own apartment these past few weeks, but maybe we should really think on it a
while?
Nat
To: Natalie
From: JoeSebastian@NYzone.com
Date: Jan 28
Subject: What's to Think About?
I thought we'd settled this already. Why are you hesitating? What are you afraid
of?
JS
To: Joe
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 28
Subject: RE: What's to Think About?
I am NOT afraid of anything!!
To: Natalie
From: JoeSebastian@NYzone.com
Date: Jan 28
Subject: RE: RE: What's to Think About?
Wanna bet? You played this game once already — and lost. Do you really want to
do this again?
All right then, let's look at this from a practical standpoint.
Cost: You spend more time at my place than yours. Why keep paying rent on
something you don't need? My place is bigger, which translates into more room
for you, Cleo and all of your shoes. It doesn't make financial sense to spend
money every month on that shoebox you call an apartment when my place is bigger
and much more comfortable.
Location: No more costly taxi cabs to work. You'd be much closer to your friend
Isabel. Starbucks is down the block. How can you say no when your daily
DoubleShot espresso fix is only footsteps away?
Convenience: See Cost and Location arguments above.
Additional Conveniences: Only one set of sheets to change. Bigger kitchen. A
real bedroom…with a real bed, not a fold-out torture device. Two bedrooms — one
for us and one for your shoes. A park right across the street for Cleo.
Come on, sweetheart. Say yes. You know you want to. Cleo wants you to.
JS
To: Arianne
Cc: Natalie
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 28
Subject: RE: Pick up the damn phone!
Girlfriends, I'm in deep trouble. I've been trying to concentrate on work and
push this to the back of my mind, except for running to the bathroom every ten
minutes, hoping against hope that —
Oh, damn. I can't handle this alone. Can you come over? Bring a home pregnancy
test.
Isabel
To: Arianne; Isabel
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 28
Subject: Moving In — The Sequel
OMG!! I told Joe I wasn’t ready and you know what he does? He gives me a goddamn
laundry list of practical reasons why I should move in with him.
Practical? Do you believe this guy? He’s asking me to give up rent control just
off Park Avenue and he hasn’t even told me he loves me. Why are men such obtuse
creatures? What is it about their genetic make up that makes them so freaking
clueless?
Nat
To: Natalie
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 28
Subject: Where to begin?
Okay. Now breathe!! I know, we're both hyperventilating over Isabel, so who am I
to talk about breathing? And you, with your own crisis.
First, I've got the PG test. Actually, I bought one of every kind at the
drugstore. We need absolutely accurate information on this one.
Second, do not move so much as one shoe out of your closet until Joe tells you
he loves you. I mean it, Nat. You can't start out a life together if you aren't
absolutely sure of each other. I think he loves you, Isabel thinks he loves you,
but we'd all really like him to think it, too!!
Gotta run. See you at Isabel's later.
Arianne
To: Arianne; Natalie
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 29
Subject: that river in the Nile
Thanks, guys. I’ll never forget the way you were there for me. I would have
freaked without you two there to hold my hand, especially when the stick turned
pink.
PINK. I still can’t believe it. I keep touching my stomach as if I’ll be able to
feel a baby inside. And I think, poor little jellybean, to have me as a mother.
I never had a normal home. I was a teenage runaway — what do I know about
raising kids? I’ve been going over my options endlessly, trying to picture my
life with a baby, or even without one, and at the end of the day all I know for
sure is that I’m scared of making any choice at all. And that includes telling
Tom.
Don’t say it. I know, I know. I’ll have to tell him something sometime, but not
yet. Denial is such a peaceful river to float on for at least a little while
longer. One hope I cling to is that if condoms can be faulty, so can drugstore
pregnancy tests.
Natalie, Arianne — grab your guys and hold on tight.
Love,
Isabel (does this mean I can blame my sappiness on hormones?)
To: Isabel
From: Tom@Gracenotes.biz
Date: Jan 29
Subject: I’m not giving up on you
Dear Isabel: Whatever’s happening with you — good, bad, ugly and scary, huge or
small — know that I’m here for you. I’d be there for you if you’d let me.
Remember, I made a promise to you a month ago, and that promise is good forever.
Always. Endlessly. Every way possible.
I love you.
Tom,
growing more beastly every minute we’re apart
To: Joe
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 29
Subject: Furthermore
Pffft. Your place isn’t even decorated. All those white walls. B.O.R.I.N.G.
Besides, I have bigger concerns on my mind.
Nat
To: Natalie
From: JoeSebastian@NYzone.com
Date: Jan 29
Subject: RE: Furthermore
So decorate it. Make it a home. Make it "our" home. There’s nothing bigger than
that.
JS
To: Tom Grace
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 30
Subject: Sticking my nose in…
…where it doesn’t belong. But I can’t take it anymore. Tom, make Isabel talk to
you. Now. She needs you. That’s all I can say. Don’t be fooled by her
tough shell. She’s vulnerable, and that’s why she’s keeping you at arm’s length.
Go to her, please.
Regards,
Arianne
To: Natalie
From: JoeSebastian@NYzone.com
Date: Jan 30
Subject: Talk to me
What? Nothing to say? You are afraid, aren’t you?
Natalie, I know our relationship had an unusual beginning, but that doesn’t
change how I feel about you. Nor does it change how I’m pretty damned sure you
feel about me. I’m not going anywhere. No more disappearing acts. I’m here…for
as long you’ll have me.
Now are you going to talk to me or not?
JS
To: Joe
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 30
Subject: Not
See subject line above.
Nat
To: Natalie
From: JoeSebastian@NYzone.com
Date: Jan 30
Subject: Fine!
See subject line above.
JS
To: Isabel; Arianne
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 31
Subject: Lonely Hearts Club Band
Anyone know where the band is playing? Maybe they could use a new drummer. Oh
wait, that wouldn’t work out, either — cuz I just put a hole in my drum.
Well, that’s the end of that. I’m single again. Or Cleo and I are single again.
Is there a Dog Owners without Partners Association? You know, like Parents
without Partners, but for doggie people? Maybe Cleo will meet a nice boy
chocolate lab who’ll have a nice owner for me. How pathetic is that? I need my
dog to hook me up with a guy.
All Joe talks about are "feelings," but not once did he tell me how he
feels. Why is that so hard? I’m going to go drown my sorrows with massive
quantities of chocolate — dark, milk, white — it makes no difference today. And
I’ll count my shoes while I’m OD’ing. That usually makes me feel better.
Nat
P.S. Uh-oh! Very loud pounding on my door. If he wants his gift back he’s in for
the fight of his life. Cleo is mine!
To: Natalie
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 31
Subject: RE: Lonely Hearts Club Band
Natalie, for God’s sake, answer that door! I can carry on as a one-woman band.
*pitiful sniff*
Iz
To: Isabel; Arianne
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Jan 31
Subject: Daisy Plucking Mystery Solved!
He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me! Yes, there’s one petal left on the
proverbial daisy and it says…
He Loves Me!!!
Joe just left — without the imprint of my newest pair of Monticellos on his
butt.
How is it that a man I’ve only really known for a month can know me so well?
Sure, it does feel like we’ve known each other a whole lot longer, but one very
sensual hour together over a year ago hardly constitutes the beginning of a
relationship. At least that’s what I’ve been trying to tell myself all this
time. Could be that I have been mistaken.
Joe understands that I’m afraid of him. Not of him, but afraid of giving up my
security and what I need to feel secure. Even though all the promises in the
world can’t change the way I feel, he "gets" it. I realize I'm telling you what
you already know, but I know you both understand my need for security. Life with
my dad was always so chaotic and there were plenty of times growing up that I
wasn't sure I'd have a roof over my head for the quasi-solid walls surrounding
me. Those things are important to me, and Joe has figured it out by offering me
a compromise: Move in with him and sublet my apartment. This way I have the
security of keeping my place while still exploring the next level of our
relationship.
Oh, and did I tell you that he loves me?
So, all joking aside, what do you guys honestly think about all this? I trust
you more than anyone else on the planet. Does this sound like the right move? Am
I doing the right thing?
Nat
To: Natalie; Arianne
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 31
Subject: RE: Daisy Plucking Mystery Solved!
Natalie, you goon. When a man like Joe tells you that he loves you, you don’t
ask him to make nice and compromise. Forget security. I know how much your
apartment means to you, but if you keep it, you’re giving yourself an escape
hatch. Sounds good, maybe, but what’s going to escape is your confidence in your
relationship. It’ll be too easy to run when the going gets tough. (And who knows
better than me?)
You’ve risked your heart for lesser men. Believe in Joe. All the way.
Isabel
To: Isabel; Natalie
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Jan 31
Subject: RE: RE: Daisy Plucking Mystery Solved!
Iz, do me a favor. Read your last two emails to Natalie until you know them by
heart. Then listen to what your heart is saying the next time Tom knocks on your
door.
I’m rooting for all of you!
Arianne
To: Arianne
Cc: Natalie
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Jan 31
Subject: Miss Nosy Buttinsky
Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you.
Isabel & Tom
To: Isabel; Arianne
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Feb 12
Subject: Official Change of Address
Hi girls! Just a quickie because the movers are coming up the stairs as I type,
but I wanted to give you directions before life goes entirely nutso.
Take Broadway into the Village to Washington Square Park. It's the building on
the corner just across from the park. Twelfth Floor. See all four of you for
Sunday brunch at the new digs!
Love,
Nat & Joe
P.S. Oh, I almost forgot the most important thing of all: I didn't sublet my
apartment. It officially belongs to a new tenant — permanently.
To: Natalie
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Feb 12
Subject: RE: Official Change of Address
You're trusting your shoes to moving men? I thought bonded courier, at the
least. Maybe armored car.
Happy Moving Day! I'll see you Sunday, bringing bagels and BIG news.
Isabel
To: Natalie
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Feb 12
Subject: RE: Official Change of address
Oh, I am so excited, Natalie!! I can't believe you and Joe worked it out so
fast. He is so perfect for you. Who'd have believed two months ago that a masked
man with a penchant for disappearing could be a forever kind of guy? I think it
must be the approaching Valentine's Day making me sentimental, but I love you
both, and I'm so happy everything worked out for us.
I hope Isabel's fine. At least she's back with Tom. What a roller coaster she's
been on. Wow. But I have to tell you, when that stick turned pink in her
bathroom, I think I got pink-stick envy. Maybe in a year or two… You know me; I
have to plan everything.
luv
Arianne
To: Natalie; Arianne
From: IsabelParisi@NYletterbox.com
Date: Feb 14
Subject: 1 + 1 = 2
Dear friends: I can't contain myself until Sunday. I'm still hyper from the most
glorious Valentine's Day of my life. Tom is such a silly romantic! I thought
guys weren't supposed to like that stuff? He brought roses and chocolate and
champagne (clue!) and a frilly valentine the size of my art portfolio. He drew
the line at serenading beneath my fire escape with a Mariachi band, but it
wouldn't surprise me if one of these nights, when we're not playing Fireman with
Big Hose Rescues Damsel in Negligee… <insert girlish giggle here>
I wasn't nearly as romantic in the way I reciprocated, but I managed to stun him
nevertheless. First thing Valentine's morning, I brought him breakfast in bed
and wrapped around his silverware like a scroll was his big surprise — my
official pregnancy test.
Or should I say, my NON-pregnancy test? It was negative, girls. Yup, you read
that right. Now I'm wishing I didn't put off going to my gyno for so long out of
fear, but that's what ya get for being the wussy Queen of Denial. (Looks like I
just skipped a cycle, maybe from all the emotional stress of the past weeks.)
So…pardon me while I scream: I'M NOT PREGNANT!
And Tom, bless his heart, was actually disappointed. I mean, he was glad that I
was so relieved and gave me a big hug and kiss, but I could see the regret in
his eyes. When Arianne sent him to my place a couple of weeks ago, demanding to
know what was going on, swearing his eternal love and support, I thought that
was the last thing I wanted. I thought that he'd only be doing it because that's
the kind of honorable guy he is, not because he was ready for a commitment that
included a baby.
Wrong! Wrong on all counts. Yes, Tom's honorable. But his love for me is also
100% true blue and he swears nothing will ever change that — babies, no babies,
ups, downs, ins and outs. Not even me acting like a brat and closing myself off.
I've never felt so safe. Never even thought I wanted to feel safe! But I do, and
I can finally admit it. I'm almost glad about the pregnancy scare because it
made me see what I have in Tom.
Yep. I believe in him. All the way. I swear, I followed Arianne's directions and
inscribed that on my heart. Don't get me wrong. We're still taking it slow. No
moving in or engagement rings on our horizon. For a while, at least. I have to
get used to the idea of having only one man in my life. Lucky for me, he's the
one man who's everything to me. And I do mean everything. <g> Why do ya
think he's snoring in bed like a bear in winter while I have so much energy I'm
bopping around the loft without the benefit a pogo stick? Hope you two had as,
um, active a Valentine's Day as we did! (I won't even start in on all the
inventive ways a man can find to eat chocolates.)
I'm so happy, I'm literally beaming. Don't even need a desk light. In fact, I
have to close this email with something so sicky-sweet I've never even thought
of doing it before.
{{{{{{Natalie & Joe & Arianne & Rafe}}}}}}
Isabel
P.S. Never repeat this, but do you know what was most alarming of all? There was
a moment there when I got the test results that I was disappointed, too. I'd
started to like the idea of having Tom's baby. How's that for goopy Valentine's
Day surprises?
To: Natalie; Isabel
From: ArianneSorenson@Monticello.com
Date: Feb 14
Subject: That crazy man of mine
Rafe gave me the most amazing Valentine's Day present. We're off to Monte Carlo
tomorrow morning, and I'm not even packed!! I can't believe he pulled this on
me. I told him I don't do spontaneous; he told me to get used to it. I guess
maybe I can try ;-)
There is no business trip. He was toying with me all the time. He's booked us a
fabulous vacation. He insists we start in Monte Carlo, then the south of France
and Italy. I'll be home in early March, and then I'll seriously have to start
planning this wedding.
Iz, I'm so glad you're happy. Remember that Nat and I are always here for you,
but so is Tom. Next time, reach for him instead of pushing him away.
Natalie, don't have your housewarming party without us! I'll bring you something
scrumptious from Europe. No half-off sales this time.
I think I might look in Italy for a fabulous little number to wear to the
Monticello Masked Ball next New Year's Eve. We're all going together again,
right? Though I don't know how we'll top this year's party!!
luv you guys,
Arianne
To: Arianne; Isabel
From: NatalieTrent@fashionistas.net
Date: Feb 14
Subject: What to Wear
Joe and I just got in a little while ago after celebrating a completely clichéd,
sappy and utterly romantic Valentine's Day together. Dinner, roses, jewelry (did
I tell you I just love sapphires?) dancing…and I can't believe we actually did
this, but we took one of those carriage rides around the park. I know, I know.
Très gauche and totally tourist. We ‘bout froze to death, but you can't
believe the <ahem> fun to be had beneath a thick wool blanket while
attempting to generate a little…heat. <insert very satisfied sigh>
Isabel, there is plenty of time for Arianne and I to become aunties when the
timing is right, but darn-it-all, even I'm feeling a twinge of
disappointment. All those glorious baby designer fashions will just have to wait
a while longer. And I had such plans, too!
Arianne, if you step into one discount store in Italy I may never forgive you.
Be brave, my bean-counting friend. Get in touch with your frivolous side, and
for once leave the damned calculator at home. Promise me? Although, one does
wonder how much time you'll have for shopping with that hot Italian lover
keeping you otherwise occupied. LOL!
You can help me plan the housewarming after you and Rafe return. In the
meantime, I'm commandeering Iz to find me a decorator to die for. Iz, break out
your Rolodex for me and send me the names of your most brilliant contacts — when
you come up for air, that is. <g>
The buzz is already starting hum about this year's Fashion Week. Will be keeping
my eye out for fabulous, one-of-a-kind finds, and thanks to Arianne's stern
tutelage I have my bargaining skills honed to perfection. I have a feeling what
to wear to this year's Monticello Ball isn't going to be such a huge concern —
more like what we won't be wearing after the stroke of midnight.
Love,
Nat