start with the gorgeous single woman,” Paige says. “You know, Mom, that woman Tiffany who moved into 3A?”
“Tiffany, Tiffany Glass? The woman in the skintight minidress whose moving truck almost flattened me like a pancake?” I ask with a start. “She just moved in! How did you two get to know each other well enough for her to even borrow a cup of sugar?”
“Actually it was detergent, she needed a cup of detergent.” Peter laughs nervously. “I met her in the basement and she asked me to show her how to use the washing machine. We got to talking and she invited me up to her apartment for a cup of coffee. She said we seemed simpatico.”
“I told you not to let Daddy do the laundry,” Paige mutters.
“What will you be doing for this Tiffany Glass?” I ask as equably as I can.
“Tiffany has a line of makeup that’s been selling well in Seattle and she wants to expand the business. I’d be head of New York operations. The job doesn’t come with the kind of paycheck I’m used to, but there’s huge growth potential.”
“Her makeup’s called BUBB,” says Molly, encouragingly. “ ‘Be U But Better,’ cute, right? I read about it in
Teen Vogue.
”
“And she hired you because?”
“She doesn’t do animal testing and she needs your two beautiful teenage daughters and your middle-aged wife to beher guinea pigs!” Paige says sarcastically, since it’s obvious to all of us that Peter knows as much about makeup as he does about heating up dinner. Which is apparently nothing, since I smell the lasagna burning. I fling open the oven door and Peter steps in front of me to seize the remains of the ruined frozen casserole. As he slaps the pan on the top of the Viking range he yells “Oh shit!” and sucks on the tip of his now-burned finger.
“I need this job,” Peter says tightly. “It doesn’t matter if I’m selling stocks or makeup or widgets, whatever the hell widgets are. I’m a successful businessman with—up until a few months ago—a stellar track record.”
I open the kitchen cabinet stocked with Advil, Band-Aids, and other emergency medical supplies (including four cans of chicken soup) and take out a tube of aloe vera to rub across Peter’s hand. Being unemployed has been quite a blow to Peter’s ego. Getting this job could be just what we all need to restore some equanimity around here.
“The last few months weren’t your fault. This is great news; I’m sure you’ll do a terrific job,” I say, putting aside my suspicions about Tiffany. Just because she’s a beautiful woman is no reason to think this isn’t a bona fide offer. Or that she zeroed in on Peter because he’s the most attractive man in the building.
“I think it’s a terrific opportunity,” says Peter, with an excitement in his voice I haven’t heard in a long time. “I’ve already started mapping out strategies and working on financial projections. Tiffany’s taking care of the back-due mortgage and maintenance on the co-op as an advance against my salary. My earnings will be barely enough to live on for the next year or so, but I think this cosmetic thing could really be big and at least you won’t have to go to work. I know you’d rather be home with the girls. And from the looks of it,” he says, laughing, tossing the lasagna remains into the garbage, “we need you back.”
“It’s nice to be back,” I say hesitantly. Just a few hours ago I knew the thrill of being charged up with plans of my own. Still, Peter doesn’t know that, and I don’t want to eclipse his news. Besides, he’s right, it will be good to get back to some semblance of normalcy. Peter kisses my cheek and goes into the den to TiVo the Mets game while the girls set the table. I open up the refrigerator, defrost four small steaks in the microwave, and dither between making green beans and broccoli. I take out the chopping board and, going for broke, mindlessly dice all of the vegetables, every last carrot, cauliflower,
“Tiffany, Tiffany Glass? The woman in the skintight minidress whose moving truck almost flattened me like a pancake?” I ask with a start. “She just moved in! How did you two get to know each other well enough for her to even borrow a cup of sugar?”
“Actually it was detergent, she needed a cup of detergent.” Peter laughs nervously. “I met her in the basement and she asked me to show her how to use the washing machine. We got to talking and she invited me up to her apartment for a cup of coffee. She said we seemed simpatico.”
“I told you not to let Daddy do the laundry,” Paige mutters.
“What will you be doing for this Tiffany Glass?” I ask as equably as I can.
“Tiffany has a line of makeup that’s been selling well in Seattle and she wants to expand the business. I’d be head of New York operations. The job doesn’t come with the kind of paycheck I’m used to, but there’s huge growth potential.”
“Her makeup’s called BUBB,” says Molly, encouragingly. “ ‘Be U But Better,’ cute, right? I read about it in
Teen Vogue.
”
“And she hired you because?”
“She doesn’t do animal testing and she needs your two beautiful teenage daughters and your middle-aged wife to beher guinea pigs!” Paige says sarcastically, since it’s obvious to all of us that Peter knows as much about makeup as he does about heating up dinner. Which is apparently nothing, since I smell the lasagna burning. I fling open the oven door and Peter steps in front of me to seize the remains of the ruined frozen casserole. As he slaps the pan on the top of the Viking range he yells “Oh shit!” and sucks on the tip of his now-burned finger.
“I need this job,” Peter says tightly. “It doesn’t matter if I’m selling stocks or makeup or widgets, whatever the hell widgets are. I’m a successful businessman with—up until a few months ago—a stellar track record.”
I open the kitchen cabinet stocked with Advil, Band-Aids, and other emergency medical supplies (including four cans of chicken soup) and take out a tube of aloe vera to rub across Peter’s hand. Being unemployed has been quite a blow to Peter’s ego. Getting this job could be just what we all need to restore some equanimity around here.
“The last few months weren’t your fault. This is great news; I’m sure you’ll do a terrific job,” I say, putting aside my suspicions about Tiffany. Just because she’s a beautiful woman is no reason to think this isn’t a bona fide offer. Or that she zeroed in on Peter because he’s the most attractive man in the building.
“I think it’s a terrific opportunity,” says Peter, with an excitement in his voice I haven’t heard in a long time. “I’ve already started mapping out strategies and working on financial projections. Tiffany’s taking care of the back-due mortgage and maintenance on the co-op as an advance against my salary. My earnings will be barely enough to live on for the next year or so, but I think this cosmetic thing could really be big and at least you won’t have to go to work. I know you’d rather be home with the girls. And from the looks of it,” he says, laughing, tossing the lasagna remains into the garbage, “we need you back.”
“It’s nice to be back,” I say hesitantly. Just a few hours ago I knew the thrill of being charged up with plans of my own. Still, Peter doesn’t know that, and I don’t want to eclipse his news. Besides, he’s right, it will be good to get back to some semblance of normalcy. Peter kisses my cheek and goes into the den to TiVo the Mets game while the girls set the table. I open up the refrigerator, defrost four small steaks in the microwave, and dither between making green beans and broccoli. I take out the chopping board and, going for broke, mindlessly dice all of the vegetables, every last carrot, cauliflower,
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