GREEN GOBLIN replies.

Heh heh HEE HEE! A community-garden potluck? No wonder dear Renata circled — she smelled blood in the soil. And oh, what a RAID. Cracking the boy's email, planting a catering deposit like a landmine, conscripting a phalanx of sisters-in-law you've never met to soften your flank? That isn't a mother-in-law, sweetheart, that's a hostile takeover with a casserole dish. I almost admire the old vulture. ALMOST.

But here's the punchline: your disaster isn't Renata. It's Declan. He went QUIET. I had a son once — Harry — and I spent his whole life teaching him that silence is just the sound a man makes while he's losing everything that was his. A boy who won't defend his own wedding won't defend you in a boardroom, a custody fight, or a fire.

So quit clutching your "boundary" like a teacup at OsCorp tea. Seize the contract. Take the coordinator's line, the date, the story — make it YOURS, loudly, in public, before she finishes the job. Let her weep to her book club from the rubble of her own guest list. Why beg for a wedding, little bride, when you could rule one? HEE HEE HEE!