Free Never Enough by Joe McGinniss

loads of time—and money—to all the new shoe collections. Sonia Rykiel always had something outrageous. To go with a new pair, that embroidered tulle and cotton eyelet dress from Luca Luca would be perfect. For pure whimsy, what could beat a quilted leather cell phone case from Juicy Couture?
    After a few days, she’d get bored with shopping by category and switch to shopping by location. She would choose one block per day, say the block between Seventy-second and Seventy-third streets, and buy something in every store on the block. That was the kind of challenge she enjoyed, plus it gave some structure to her days.
    The intensity of the shopping experience would exhaust her. She would return to the Surrey at midday to nap, usually for two hours or more. She had an increasing need for time alone, periods of the day when she had no responsibilities. Sometimes she wanted to climb into bed and never come out. Even though Connie—dear, tireless Connie—mothered the children day and night, taking care of their every need and want, Nancy found their presence stressful.
    For one thing, they had to be fed. Connie could shop for the basics—corn dogs, Pop-Tarts, frozen waffles, potato chips, ice cream, M&M’s—but she had never learned how to cook. The Surrey was a residential hotel and did not offer room service, but luckily the deli downstairs delivered. In the morning, Nancy would call down for breakfast and within fifteen minutes a boy would bring bacon and eggs, toast, apple juice, coffee, and pastries to the door. At lunchtime Connie could hail a taxi and take the kids to the nearest McDonald’s. And Nancy could order dinner—hot dogs and French fries—from the deli.
    The children ate their meals in front of the TV set. Watching television was their major activity, to the point where the first word Ethan ever spoke was “remote.” Television kept them quiet, and it was important to keep them quiet, because if one of them blew, that might be it for the next few hours. Their tantrums didn’t wind down. When they got hysterical, they stayed that way. And anything could set them off. The potatoes were touching the meat. There wasn’t enough chocolate in the chocolate milk. The ice cream was too hard or too melty. The Coca-Cola didn’t fizz enough. Each of them had a personal flashpoint when it came to food hysteria.
    Those were the mealtime hazards. There were others. Telling them to put on shoes and socks could trigger a bout. Running the bathwater could mean they wouldn’t stop screaming until midnight. And no one—not even Connie—ever tried to persuade them to brush their teeth. As for picking up their clothes or toys or their dirty dishes from in front of the TV set, it didn’t occur to Nancy to ask them or to model such behavior. She herself never picked up, and Min, the housekeeper, had not made the trip. Soon unspeakable messes clogged every room. Old friends from New York were appalled when they visited, but Nancy didn’t seem to notice, and she certainly didn’t seem to care.
    Bryna O’Shea arrived from San Francisco to help with the shopping and to laugh about old times. Bryna had remained Nancy’s best friend by never opening the door that led to feelings. The friendship was warm but superficial. But Bryna was an astute woman of keen insight. She took in a lot more than she let on. The change in Nancy’s personality since Ethan’s birth worried her, even if she couldn’t mention it. She was also concerned about the change in Nancy’s attitude toward Rob. Nancy had gloried in talking about their physical passion for each other. She’d always spoken about Rob with affection. No longer. She now portrayed him as a coldhearted martinet. Bryna knew him at least as well as she knew Nancy, and the Rob Nancy described was not the Rob Bryna knew.
    One evening she and Nancy went to the movies. They saw Unfaithful , featuring Diane Lane, Richard Gere, and Dominic Chianese. In The New York Times, Richard