That evening, Carrie could restrain herself no longer. She had to know what Berger was written about their relationship -- about her -- in that magazine article. After having a quick sub at the sandwich shop down the street, she headed into Planet Livre bookstore and headed straight for the magazine racks. She located Men's World , opened the magazine to the table of contents. There is was: Real Men Don't Wear Prada, by Jack Berger. She flipped to the article. Her eyes fell to a paragraph in the middle of the page.
Christie, so proud of her newfound success. It felt as if she was always finding little ways of reminding me she was a successful writer with a book on best-seller list, and I was not. The worst moment for me was when she drug me by the ring in my nose down Madison Avenue to the Prada boutique. Prada! She insisted on buying me a bright, red silk shirt. What man wears a silk Prada shirt? I was afraid I was going to grow a uterus.
She turned the page.
I told Christie that I didn't want to be that guy, the kind of man threatened by his woman's success. I don't know if she believed me or not. I am not sure I even believed it. I just wanted out of there.
In the last page of the article, Berger wrote that, once he and "Christie" broke up, he got his groove back, that he was able to write again. There was no mention that he had broken up with her via Post-It note, that he hadn't been man enough to dump her in person. In the last sentence, he said that he tore the Prada shirt "Christie" had bought him into rags and used it to wash his motorcycle.
Saturday morning, Carrie, Miranda and Charlotte met at their favorite café for their usual Saturday brunch. This day, the their conversation was focused on an article from yesterday's newspaper.
Margaret Hayes "Bunny" MacDougal, one of the grande dames of New York society was killed at her estate Thursday afternoon in a freak accident. Mrs. MacDougal was supervising the removal of small gardening shed that she had used to cultivate her prize-winning roses. The chains being used to lift building suddenly broke and it tumbled to the ground, crushing her to death.
Mrs. MacDougal was a leading philanthropist. For many years she was the head of the MacDougal Charitable Foundation as well as being Chairperson of the Board of the Children's Hospital charity.
"Crushed to death by her own garden shed. How very 'Wizard of Oz," Carrie joked.
"It's not funny," Charlotte said, slightly appalled. "I talked to poor Trey last night. He's beside himself."
"Wasn't this the same woman who helped ruined your first marriage and then tried to make sure you didn't get anything in the divorce?" Miranda asked.
"Yes, but she was also the chairperson of the children's hospital charity board for eighteen years. She did a lot of good work for sick children. She deserves credit for that. I feel bad. I mean it. She wasn't my favorite person. But when I talked to Trey yesterday, he was saying that he brother and sister-in-law couldn't be bothered to fly back from St. Barts."
Charlotte finished the last of her egg white omelet and put her napkin on the plate. "We had an emergency board meeting yesterday afternoon at the hospital. I am the new chairperson. I have to get some plans together. I have to go to the caterers and choose the hors d'oeuvres for the gathering after the memorial service and then go to the florist and buy the wreath from the board members and them make sure they all sign the sympathy card. "
With that Charlotte left her chair, picked up her jacket, said her "good-byes" and left. She didn't notice the bemused looks on the faces of her friends
"Well, Charlotte is the Martha Stewart of death," Carrie said.
Suddenly Carrie felt petty. Just a few hours, she had been ready to take out a hit on Berger and here Charlotte was planning a memorial for a woman who had never been anything but mean to her.