by Alison Kent
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.
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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
Chapter Two
To: Isabel; Arianne
From: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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
Chapter Three
To: Natalie; Arianne
From: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
Date: Jan 4, almost noon
Subject: RE: mmmmm
Don’t you love Sunday mornings spent in bed—with a man? Ahhh.
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: [email protected]
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: [email protected]
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?
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?
