FIRST, THE FRIENDS: Mariam Al-Foudery, Abby Ex, Dayna and Ember Frank, Paul Fruchbom, Barbara Graves-Poller, MacKenzie Huynh, Tia Maggini, Alex Mircheff, Dantram Nguyen, Radhi Thayu, and Julie Wie. Thank you for reading various drafts of this novel, many of you when it was still in its larval and pupal stages. An additional thanks to a handful of the above for inspiring various elements of this story. You know who you are (or at least I hope you do . . .), and you are family.
Next, the guys at Circle of Confusion: Lawrence Mattis, for forcing me to move to Los Angeles in the first place, the Davids, Alpert and Engel, for giving me my first home when I got here, and Bryan Millard, for being an ideal workmate all decade long.
Bring on the professionals: my indomitable agent Alexandra Machinist, who stood by this manuscript for a protracted and uncertain period like the fierce and loyal advocate she is, till finding the perfect home for it at HarperCollins, where I have felt supported by the team in general. Thanks in particular to Jonathan Burnham, who was an early advocate of this book, and to my editor, Maya Ziv, the rare soul with a knack for bringing out the best not only in stories but in people, too. Maya, I was so lucky to be able to hitch my wagon to your train of goodwill, dedication, and unflagging enthusiasm. A special thanks to Kathy Schneider, whose enthusiasm has pervaded this process from beginning to end; she has truly been my champion. Thanks also to Dorian Karchmar and Andrea Walker, who both provided vital expertise in some of the more preliminary stages of this tortuous (not to mention torturous) process of bringing a debut novel to fruition.
Now the relations: my sister Taryn, who was always my hero growing up, both for her overall strength of spirit and unfailing loyalty to me; my sister Kelly, whose lifelong commitment to the arts has been an inspiration for as long as I can remember; my brothers-in-law Alex and Josh; my nieces and nephews Séquoia, Siméon, Charlie, and Lilah; the Milches (Nora, Hannah, and Tom); and the Divolls (Vicki and Janet). Do I really have to say it? I love you all.
Time for the ones who lie so close to my heart it’s difficult, or at the very least mildly absurd, to acknowledge them so formally (“Nelly, I am Heathcliff!” etc.). Thank you to my parents, Daniel and Maureen Donovan, for showing me what it means to build a life made out of love, and for the courage to say such sentimental things often and aloud. Thank you to my husband, Adam Milch, for choosing to build a life with me made of the same material, and for the steadfast support of a fellow writer and fellow human. You make me better.
And finally, the only one who I can’t thank face-to-face, so this will have to do: Margaret Biegen (formerly Kemper, née Burns), who didn’t get to read this book, but who prayed every day for its success when she learned I was trying my hand at writing. While I believe in immortality only metaphorically, I happen to believe in metaphors unreservedly, and have no qualms declaring that her loving support of me hasn’t abated one bit since her passing. If anything, it’s stronger. Thank you, Grandma.