Page 74 of Save the Date

“Is this Emma Moskowitz?” A rather brusque voice asked as if Emma was somehow already wasting her time.

“Yes, may I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Lanie Reyes withThe Amanda Sharpe Show. We hada last-minute guest cancellation this morning and we were wondering if you would be willing to come on today to talk about—” Emma heard the sound of papers being shuffled “—Operation: Save My Date. Amanda has been listening to your podcast and would love to share the unique idea with her audience.”

Emma shot up in bed. Amanda Sharpe was an icon. Since starting out as a child actor, Amanda had managed to star in countless movies, start a wildly successful athleisure company and launch the most popular daytime talk show sinceOprah. Amanda also seemed super nice in a relatable way, like she just so happened to be super successful and wasn’t that wonderful?

Being interviewed onThe Amanda Sharpe Showlaunched people into stardom—or made them the most hated person on the internet for forty-eight hours. It was the definition of exposure.

“Emma, I’m going to need you to tell me yes or no.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Emma exclaimed. “I’d be honored.”

“Great. If you give me your email, I’ll have my assistant send you all the information. We’ll need you in the Burbank studio by one.”

“No problem. I’ll have to reschedule a few clients but—”

“Can I have that email?”

“Yes, sorry,” Emma replied as she rattled it off.

“See you soon. Don’t wear a pattern,” Lanie said before hanging up.

Emma immediately let out a squeal of excitement. Amanda Sharpe wanted to interviewher. Maybe she wasn’t such a terrible person after all.

***

“There just isn’t enough time,” Jackie declared as the three Moskowitz women stood in her custom-made walk-in closet. “Even if I managed to find the right outfit, there isn’t time to dye her hair.”

“Why do I need to dye my hair?” Emma asked as she stood mostly naked in front of her mom and sister. She’d spent the past thirty minutes trying on different nonpatterned outfits to no avail. They either looked terrible or caused her so much discomfort she couldn’t think straight. It was further proof that being fashionable was a nightmare.

“You have a few grays,” Jackie said. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“I don’t think anyone will notice,” Debbie replied. “The camera won’t be on the top of her head.”

“We have to be prepared for everything.”

“I don’t care if people can see I have gray hair. It’s a natural part of aging gracefully.”

Jackie looked at Emma as if she had just suggested cutting off her toes and sticking them in a blender to live longer. “I can’t deal with your ridiculous ideas about embracing wrinkles and cellulite right now. We need to find you something to wear.”

“I might have something,” Debbie offered. “I brought it with me just in case.” She dug into her large Longchamp tote bag and pulled out a black, knee-length dress with capped sleeves and large gold buttons down the front. It was simple and gorgeous. Emma reached for it and was surprised to find it was made of a deliciously soft knit.

“Why have we never seen this before?” Emma asked as she unzipped the back to shimmy into it.

“Probably because I haven’t worn it since you were born. It was a work dress.”

Emma pulled the fabric over her head—her pear-shaped body made stepping into dresses impossible because her butt always got in the way. As she pulled it down, she immediately knew their problems had been solved.

“What do you think?” Emma asked with her arms out to show it off.

“I love it,” Debbie exclaimed.

Jackie took a bit longer in her assessment. Emma held her breath as her older sister’s eyes scanned her body. She understood that she was no longer a person but a product about to be unveiled to the public.

Jackie deftly adjusted the sleeves before declaring, “I think it will work.”

“Oh, thank god,” Emma and Debbie said in unison.

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