Miriam knew that Lauren, as a vindictive, recently divorced life coach, was more than capable of moving that card right back, so she stood, saying, “Eddie, it’s been a pleasure, and I hope I’ll be seeing more of you. You shouldn’t feel nervous just because Carter comes from such an accomplished New Jersey family, or because you’re a gentile, which is sad, but it’s just like having poor posture or a ketchup stain on your shirt—we’ll all pretend not to notice. And I should mention, I’m a semiretired CPA, so if you’d like me to take a look at your taxes, let’s stay in touch.”

Miriam handed Edgar a business card, which was laminated (“In case anything splashes”) with her name, email, and a 3D picture of her face emerging from a red rose, beside the slogan “Miriam Yansky, CPA—Helping Your Assets Flower.”

“I’m so sorry about that,” I told Edgar as I steered him toward the exit and the parking lot, “we don’t have to stay, you’ve been unbelievably great and I owe you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve been enjoying every moment, and we’re not leaving without proper goodbyes and a centerpiece.”

An hour later, after Edgar had been thoroughly kissed, hugged and pinched and Miriam had tucked dinner rolls into the pocket of his suit jacket (“As a nosh, for when you’re on the road”), James placed our centerpiece in the rear of the SUV and we all climbed inside. As we hit the Turnpike, Edgar asked me, “What is wrong with you?”

CHAPTER 12

He went on: “You have an utterly delightful family, yet you work yourself into fits of embarrassment over a group of people who love you with near-hurricane force. Your heavenly if slightly ferocious sister only wants you to be happy, and your parents would battle a marauding army to bring that about. And as for Miriam, while her handbag may contain weapons of mass destruction, I fully intend to contact her on behalf of the British economy. Why are you such an unnecessary mess?”