From: Dolly Vargas [email protected]
Date: March 14 9:45:37 PM EST
To: Reed [email protected]
Subject: Lyrexica Offer
Darling, normally when a major pharmaceutical company offers one of my clients low-to-mid six figures to endorse one of their products, I at least get a return phone call.
And when that company ups their offer from low-to-mid six figures to high six figures, I often get flowers, or even a box of chocolates, which of course I can’t eat, due to my acid reflux, which my physician tells me is entirely stress-related, and thanks to my career.
But no. Reed Stewart is much, much too busy to think of his poor, stressed-out, hardworking agent.
CALL ME.
XOXO
Dolly
Dolly Vargas
Vargas Talent Management
Los Angeles, CA
Val King 9:45PM EST
I can’t believe what we had meant so little to you. Why am I hearing that you sent Enrique to look for condos for your parents??? It’s like you don’t even remember that I have a realtor’s license.
Maybe it’s not valid in the state of Florida, but you know I have an eye for a good piece of property.
I can see now exactly why your game has been suffering. Your lack of confidence in those who should mean the most to you directly reflects your lack of confidence in yourself.
From: Reed [email protected]
Date: March 14 11:37:22 PM EST
To: Lyle [email protected]
Subject: Richard and Connie
Dear Uncle Lyle,
Thanks for your email. I’m sure your Phalaenopsis amabilis is extraordinary. If it doesn’t win or at least place, the Expo is probably rigged. Send me a photo if you get a chance.
It’s weird to be back here . . . weirder than I thought it would be. The town has changed a lot. There’s a CVS drugstore where the Jiffy Lube used to be, and a Target where the old football stadium was.
And even more buildings have been abandoned, especially since they shut down the limestone quarries. The old Bloomville Elementary building is sitting empty since they built a new, state-of-the-art one a few years ago.
The good news is, apparently I can buy my old school!
The bad news is, it’s full of asbestos.
So reassuring to know we were educated in such a safe, healthy environment.
Anyway, it’s good to see Marshall and Carly and the kids. You’d like the kids. One of them—the middle one, Bailey—refuses to take off the Chief Massasoit costume Carly made her for the school’s Thanksgiving play.
I don’t really blame her. If someone cast me as Chief Massasoit in the school play, I’d probably never take the costume off, either.
I haven’t seen Mom and Dad yet. Marshall drove me by the house on our way to pick up pizza for dinner—at Antonelli’s, of course, which was better than I expected it to be, but not great—and I have to say, I was pretty shocked.
Dad used to keep the place in tip-top shape—or at least always hired people to keep it that way for him—and you definitely can’t say that about the house now.
It’s kind of hard to see with all the snow—March in Indiana, of course there’s going to be one last snow before spring—but there appear to be a lot of shingles missing, shutters askew, the lawn and hedges look like hell, and there are stray cats everywhere.
I asked Marshall what was going on with the cats, and he only muttered darkly, “Don’t.”
Marshall hasn’t changed a bit.
No one’s mentioned my going by to see Mom and the Judge. I’m sure I’ll have to eventually, but Marshall seems to think it might be too much of a shock for the old man all at once, and we should ease into it slowly, maybe by giving him a call tomorrow morning and dropping him a hint that I’m around. I guess his ticker isn’t what it used to be?
Carly disagrees. What else is new.
I haven’t seen Trimble. Something appears to be going on with one of her kids. No one knows what. She’s enrolled them in the private school—Marshall and Carly’s kids go to the new public elementary school—because Trimble doesn’t trust public education, which is odd because it was good enough for all of us when we were kids.
I haven’t seen Becky. I’m certainly not going to contact her. I know it would be the gentlemanly thing to do, but what am I going to say to her after all these years? “I’m sorry” doesn’t seem adequate.
Also, you might not be aware of it, but my family has become the laughingstock of this town. I’m sure she doesn’t want to have anything to do with us. Carly showed me the local paper. Dad is all over the front page.
And where would this meeting between us take place, anyway, Antonelli’s Pizza? The café in the bookstore? It isn’t like there’s fine dining in this town. Well, except for Matsumori’s Tiki Palace, but her best friend’s parents own that.
And that’s where we went the night everything fell apart in the first place, so it doesn’t exactly hold the best memories.
I guess I could take her to Shenanigans.
Ha, ha, that was a joke. A bad one, but at least I still have my sense of humor. Or some of it, anyway.
I’m not trying to be pessimistic, I’m just saying, maybe it’s better for both of us that I conduct the business I came to conduct and get out without stirring up old emotions that are maybe better off left alone anyway.
In other news, Carly keeps hinting darkly that she has something to tell me. Knowing her, it’s probably that she’s pregnant again.
I can see why she wants to keep it from Marshall. I know he’s always wanted a son, but Marshall will probably kill himself if Carly has a fourth kid. As it is, they had to double up two of the girls so I could stay with them instead of the hotel room I reserved, since they don’t have a guest room, and the hotel is practically in Dearborn.
So now I’m sleeping in a pink canopy bed with a unicorn mobile dangling over my head.
I kind of like it. The unicorns dance to “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” when you wind it up.
Maybe there is a place somewhere that dreams really do come true. I hope so.
Well, that’s it for now. I really hope your Phalaenopsis amabilis wins. It should, if there’s any justice in the world.
Love,
Your Favorite Nephew,
Reed