Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“You know what I mean.”
“Rest assured I can hold my own against hooligans, riffraff, and ruffians,” I say.
“I’m not worried about that.” Her eyes scan me from head to toe, and she stifles a chuckle. She always used to say I was built like a brick shithouse—in fact, she’s the entire reason I went out for football in high school. “It’s an inconvenience thing. If you want your catalytic converter stolen or your room broken into, then by all means, stay there.”
A Monte Carlo with a busted muffler and a neon pizza sign on the roof pulls into the driveway.
“That’s dinner,” Lynnette says. “You’re staying, yeah?”
“Who eats at four o’clock?” I tease.
“Oops, am I showing my age again?” She swats at me from across the room before getting up to meet the delivery guy. “Set the table, smart-ass. We’ve still got more catching up to do.”
THREE
ANNELIESE
lagom (n.) not too much, not too little, just right
“Good morning! Hello, hello.” I plaster a smile on my face Sunday morning and wave to the couple on my computer screen. Several weeks ago, they hired me to come up with three name options for their baby girl, who’s due any day now. “Are we ready for the big reveal?”
These moments are just as nerve racking as they are exciting—for both me and the parents. The vast majority of the time, I’m met with smiles and laughter and clapping and general fanfare. On rare occasions, I miss the mark by a mile. In those cases, the parents are generally stiff lipped and give me a fake smile and a curt thank-you, and I never hear from them again.
I have a good feeling about these two, though.
Jake and Seraphina Dybeck are a picture-perfect, nice-as-pie couple from Montpelier, who describe their perfect baby name as the kind of classic moniker you’d see in a Pottery Barn Kids catalog but with a vintage twist. During our initial consultation, they gave me a list of names they couldn’t or didn’t want to use (ones they loathed, they disliked, or other friends or family had already used), as well as a list of names they liked but didn’t love.
“We’ve been counting down the days,” Jake says, slicking his hands together.
Seraphina grins wide, covering her face in excitement. “I’m so nervous I think I might pee my pants.”
“Ha! Well, we definitely don’t want that, so I won’t keep you waiting any longer,” I say, grabbing my notebook and flipping to their page. “Okay, so the first name I have for you is . . . Adeline Iris Dybeck. Adeline is a fresh take on names like Madeline, Madelyn, or Madeleine. You can pronounce it however you prefer, and you can call her Addie for short if you’re into nicknames, which, Jake, I know you said you wanted something that could be formal and shortened. We also have the mismatched syllables—three in the first, two in the last—as well as the long i sound in all three names.”
I was in high school when I first found out I had a penchant for choosing names. I was the youngest cousin in a big Catholic family, and our extended family was growing by leaps and bounds. After one too many accusations of “name theft” and watching a handful of family members fight over “the good names,” I sat down and made a list. Then I made another. I dispersed them to all my pregnant cousins, who then referred me to their friends and colleagues and their extended families. After a while, I started charging. First it was twenty-five dollars per name, then fifty, then a hundred as it became more involved. By the time I was out of college, I’d turned my little side hustle into a full-fledged business—helping expecting parents all over the country come up with the perfect monikers.
Seraphina and Jake exchange watery-eyed looks, their hands clasping.
“Adeline Iris,” she says, slowly, letting it linger on her tongue.
“Adeline Iris,” he repeats.
“We love it.” Seraphina turns back to the camera.
“Awesome, that’s what I like to hear,” I say. I throw a celebratory fist in the air. “Ready for name number two?”
“I don’t know if you can top Adeline, but we’re ready,” Jake says, leaning closer to the camera.
“All right, next up we have . . . Ivy Cate Dybeck,” I say. “Again, we’re carrying that long i sound in the first and last name, and we’ve got Cate with a c as a classic but modern middle name. Also, Cate is a nod to Jake’s grandmother, Catherine. I don’t tend to match syllables with first and last names, but I’m making an exception here because visually, Ivy is a shorter name, and I think that, overall, it’s a strong contender.”
“Ooh, I really like that,” Seraphina says to her husband. “I don’t know which one I like better . . .”