Page 1 of Seven Summer Weekends
Chapter One
When Addison Irwin reflects on the fateful day in June when her life was upended, it plays out in front of her eyes like the opening sequence of a nineties rom-com. Music and all.
In her mind, Vanessa Carlton belts the title track “A Thousand Miles” as Addison makes her way downtown “walking fast / faces pass,” though she’s work bound, not homebound. It is summer in Manhattan, and Addison is dressed in a crisp white blouse, tan linen capris, and ballet flats. She ascends from the subway station at Fifty-Third and Lex with the confidence of a thirty-four-year-old woman rumored to be first in line for promotion to art director at the Silas and Grant Advertising Agency.
This will most definitely be a day to remember, she was happily thinking to herself. She wondered where it would stand compared to receiving the Danhausen award for sculpture at art school graduation or attaining her highest-ranking title thus far: Color War General at Camp Mataponi.
Addison’s rumored promotion would make her not only the youngest to hold the role of art director at the firm, but the firstwoman to do so. She’d been channeling the seventies advertising icon Shirley Polykoff, who was the inspiration for the fictional Peggy Olson onMad Men, since she had first arrived. Unlike most women her age, whose motivation to move to the Big Apple stemmed from watching episodes ofSex and the City, Addison Irwin was aMad Mengirl. Though it should be noted that she ended up with a matching set of friends to Carrie Bradshaw’s three besties—if not in personality, at least in hair color.
Today, all the years of late nights and canceled plans would finally pay off. Addison crossed her fingers that the company’s illustrious CEO, Richard Grant, would make the big announcement—her big announcement—during the company-wide Zoom this morning. She picked up her pace.
Richard Grant, the grandson of the Grant in Silas and Grant and the heir to the seventy-year-old advertising agency, had been groomed to lead the company since birth. He was competent enough, and fairly democratic in his leadership style, but there was a disconnect that prevented anyone from truly liking him. He was tone-deaf to the point of embarrassment, and while his tendency to see things only from his own perspective made for hours of interoffice laughter and camaraderie, it annoyed Addison immensely. While Addison loved the fact that the firm had been in the same family since its start, she recoiled when Grant bragged about his accomplishments, personal and business, as if his success had nothing to do with his prince-like status and familial connections.
Addison caught her freckled reflection in a store window on Madison Avenue and twisted her wavy brown hair into a high pony.You got this, she thought to herself, pushing any remaining butterflies from her belly.
As she stepped out of the elevator and into the cold but chic reception area of Silas and Grant, all eyes turned to her, corroborating that the office buzz matched her gut instinct regarding her promotion. Today would indeed be the day. She brushed her hand past her mouth, hiding the small grin that had escaped.
Emma, her favorite junior staffer, approached, doing an awful job of hiding her excitement. She looked as if she might burst. Addison had recruited Emma two years earlier at a job fair at their shared alma mater—the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She saw a lot of herself in Emma, especially her laser focus on career goals. Like Addison, Emma was that unusual combination of right-brained creativity and left-brained logic.
Addison tucked away the impostor syndrome–based anxiety that she’d been fighting all morning, winked, and returned Emma’s smile.
As with any good rom-com, the music continued in the background as Addison closed her office door behind her and did a brief happy dance to the beat in her head. She sat down at her desk, applied a fresh coat of lipstick, took a deep, cleansing breath, and pulled up the Zoom link with minutes to spare. Soon the screen exploded with both familiar and unfamiliar faces from the London, LA, and New York offices.
She pinched her leg, hard, to keep herself from looking too happy.
CEO Richard Grant’s moon-shaped face appeared, front and center, pushing the other zoomers to the peanut gallery. Though Addison was still careful to keep her composure—hands folded, smile pasted—she checked her image in the floating thumbnail window. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this self-conscious.
A few minutes in, after basic intros and niceties, Richard Grant promised a few exciting announcements, beginning with his own.
“I am thrilled to share that I will appear on the front cover of next month’sAdweekas the number one philanthropist in the business. I was equally shocked and honored.”
It was the perfect example of exactly what annoyed Addison about this guy. The “honored and thrilled” was fair. The “shocked”? So clueless.
Emma private messaged her—as they always did during Zooms—with the childish goal of making the other laugh on camera.
And by philanthropy, we mean ability to write a huge check.
Addison smiled—and while she wasn’t about to desecrate her game face with a laugh, she couldn’t resist a comeback. There had been aNew Yorkmagazine cover story overanalyzing nepotism, declaring a nepo-baby boom and pushing the phrasenepo babyto the forefront. Emma, like most recent transplants to the city, was obsessed withNew Yorkmagazine. Addison crafted her response.
Number one nepo baby is more like it!
She homed in on Emma, waiting for her reaction. Emma’s hands flew to her face.
Got her!Addison thought.
But when her hands came down, Emma looked more painedthan amused. In fact, everywhere Addison looked, people’s hands were flying to their faces, one by one by one, like a wave in the stands at a ball game.
Addison looked to the group chat at the top of her screen, where her name and words sat for all to see—including Richard Grant.
Addison Irwin: Number one nepo baby is more like it!
The world as she knew it came to a crashing halt, along with the nineties soundtrack.
The blood drained from her face, and her chest burned with a heat so strong that she wondered if she was having a heart attack. She controlled her trembling hands enough to delete her comment and switch to her away photo. The picture of her with bright eyes and a big toothy grin almost made it worse.
It was, indeed, a day to remember.
Chapter Two
