Shit, what? As much as she knew she needed to tune in to the women around her, Mae was fully distracted by Amanda’s words. Food Wars? The competition show? Instantly, Mae could see how Food Wars would love the rivalry between Mimi’s and Frannie’s. And just as instantly, she could see what Amanda apparently was totally clueless about—that a reality show would steamroll their mother and rip the lid off every awful thing about Merinac, their house, their childhood, everything. She knew how this worked. Amanda, apparently, still believed in unicorns and thought this was a good idea. But Mae knew that about her sister, too. Damn it, Amanda. Just stay in your own yard, will you?
Christine was pouring water for Meghan. The new junior producer and Lolly were comparing shoes. Ordinarily, Mae would be regretting sitting down first, when clearly the protocol was more preening and socializing, but under the circumstances, she grabbed the chance to reply.
Hell no it would not be great, what are you thinking? Cameras in mom house fucking disaster. No way. Will deal with $$ later.
Not that her mom would let her send money. Not that she had much to spare, either. She could see the little dots indicating that Amanda was already replying, but Mae stuffed the phone, now totally silenced, back in its pocket. Food Wars on her home turf was not something she could think about right now, let alone whatever was going on with her mom.
In that tiny interval, the other women had all seated themselves, and Christine was now looking pointedly at Mae, who quickly put her empty hands on the table. The other woman gave a tiny shrug and looked away, and Mae felt dismissed, an inexperienced girl who did not know better than to text during an important meeting. She squared her shoulders, and Christine, no longer looking at Mae, addressed them all generally.
“Sparkling, as you know, is doing well. Very well, in terms of audience. And we did get some nice audience feedback on the five Mae episodes. Lolly, every woman on Instagram wants to be you, or at least have you come spark up their space, and, Mae, lots of them want you to come clean out their fridge.”
Mae felt her smile tighten. She’d cleaned one refrigerator in one episode and then kicked herself for it for days. That wasn’t who she was. She brought serenity and calm to the homes they redesigned, not just bleach wipes. But apparently once had been more than enough.
Christine went on. “We’ve been talking with our sponsors,” she said, “and we’re hearing mostly good things. Lolly, the message to you is mostly ‘carry on,’ and we’ve had a lot of interest in you doing actual advertising spots for products, in particular from Flowergram and Storage Store.”
Lolly beamed and wiggled her shoulders. “I love Flowergram,” she said. “I wish we could give every client, like, a biweekly delivery from them. Maybe they’d do, like, a branded Sparkling bouquet, one that really lasts.”
“Oh, that’s a great idea,” said Meghan’s assistant. “You could choose the flowers. A Lollygram!”
Lolly squealed. “I love it!”
Christine looked pleased, and Meghan nodded, and the assistant began tapping notes frantically into her phone. Mae boggled at the way that had flowed—a Lollygram was not an advertisement for Sparkling, as Christine had first suggested; it was an advertisement for Lolly—but that was the way things fell for Lolly. The assistant, Mae could tell, adored her. Everyone adored her. Flowergram would have a new spokesperson before it knew what had hit it. Why couldn’t Mae do it like that?
“Mae,” Christine said, “Flowergram has expressed some concerns to me about your Instagram.”
Mae realized that she’d tilted her chair up on its front two legs—a nervous habit. The chair slammed down with emphasis, and Christine’s eyebrows went up slightly again as she continued. “Apparently, you posted an image of a cabinet full of flower vases and a caption urging people to get rid of crap and clutter. Flowergram felt that you were denigrating its product.”
Mae laughed. No one else did. “But wait,” she said. “Old flower vases are, like, the definition of clutter. No one needs those. You need one. Maybe two. And not the ones that come with flowers.” She turned to Lolly for support. “You need nice ones. You’d say that too, Lolly.”
Christine answered. “But Lolly wouldn’t put that on her Instagram. And she also wouldn’t say, as you have said more than