When Life Gives You Lululemons by Lauren Weisberger Read Free Book Online Page A

doorman, who shot her a look for cursing or talking too loudly or using the lobby like her personal office or all of the above.
    â€œHow many times has Miranda called you now?”
    â€œI cannot go back to Runway !” Emily blurted.
    â€œDirector of special events sure sounds huge to me.”
    â€œI know, but I’d feel ridiculous going back. New York, sure. But to give up my autonomy? I decide where and when and how I work, for whom, and how much. It feels like the wrong move to give that up and go back where I started.”
    â€œI hear you. But it’s Miranda Priestly. Think of the wardrobe budget. The parties . . . It’s the job a million girls would die for . . .”
    â€œYou did not just say that.”
    â€œSorry, I couldn’t help myself.”
    Emily heard a loud crash in the background, followed by crying. “Which monster is that? I’ll let you go.”
    â€œMatthew! How many times do I have to tell you that you may not touch the fireplace poker? It’s not a toy!” And then to Emily in a whisper, “Sorry. He can be such an asshole.”
    Emily smiled. Anyone who could call her adorable five-year-old an asshole was someone she wanted to be friends with.
    â€œEm? If you really have nothing to do, why don’t you come here? We have a guest suite with your name on it. Totally sequestered, up on the third floor, with no children anywhere nearby. Stay a night. Or as long as you like. I’ll text you the train information.”
    â€œThe train?” Emily spat, as though Miriam had just suggested she walk from Tribeca to Greenwich.
    â€œEveryone takes it, love. It’s not just for unstylish people.”
    Emily harrumphed. “Fine. I’ll come. I can’t bear to get on a planeright away. And of course I’d like to see those rug rats of yours. But only one night,” she said, and clicked her phone off before she could change her mind. Then she swiped it open once more and punched her location into the Uber app. Emily Charlton might be a washed-up, middle-aged Luddite, but she most definitely did not take the train.

5
Just Give Up. I Have
Miriam
    A s the door quietly closed behind her, Miriam surveyed the tangle of toys in the garage that, in New York, her children hadn’t even known existed—bikes, sleds, skis, Rollerblades, scooters, even an old-fashioned wooden wagon—and smiled. They were so lucky to live in a place like this, and even six months in, she didn’t take it for granted.
    The mudroom, as usual, looked like a hurricane had hit, with overflowing cubbies of puffers and mittens, raincoats and hats and snow boots and scarves and umbrellas, and the kitchen after breakfast always looked like a starving rabid raccoon had nosed its way into every single cabinet and drawer.
    â€œHey,” Miriam heard from the couch before she could see the source of the voice.
    â€œEm?” she asked, although she knew full well that was the onlyperson who would be watching talk shows in the family room on a Tuesday morning. Emily had been with them for three days now, poring over gossip sites and newspaper articles about Rizzo Benz and Olivia Belle; she showed no signs of leaving. “Thanks for cleaning up—you shouldn’t have.”
    â€œWhat?” Emily turned and glanced at the kitchen. Miriam could see she was in a ratty T-shirt that read BUT FIRST, COFFEE, and a borrowed pair of Miriam’s flannel pajama pants that looked like they were three sizes too big. An open laptop sat on the couch beside her. “Oh, I wasn’t getting near that disaster. Please. Don’t you have someone to handle that?”
    Miriam rolled her eyes and stuck a pod in the machine. “Do you want a coffee?”
    â€œAre you coming from actually working out?” Emily asked. “Or are Lululemons considered getting dressed around here?”
    â€œBoth, actually. I went to a nine o’clock