The War Between the Tates: A Novel by Alison Lurie Page B

laughed, for J. D. Barclay was a fat, fussy elderly man with very little hair. But he was convinced that Barclay had offered Erica the job because she was his wife. It would amuse someone like Barclay, who was definitely not a friend of Brian’s, to have Brian’s attractive wife working for him, and be able to order her around.
    The intensity of Brian’s reaction, the number of his arguments, surprised Erica; it also pleased her For the first time in many weeks her husband was really looking at her and talking to her about something which was not household business or a current event. He was smiling at her, laughing with her, telling her that she was dedicated, attractive and superior to drudgery. She had better things to do with her time, he said, than check Barclay’s references; and presently he led her upstairs and proved it, with a considerate attention he had not shown in months.
    Afterward, as they lay in bed, Erica told Brian that he was probably right. Upon reflection, next morning, the idea that she was not after all going to work for Mr. Barclay did not trouble her; but she felt regret that the discussion with her husband was over. She would have liked to continue longer; she began to wonder if it might somehow be resumed.
    The following day Erica reported to Danielle that she was not going to take the job. She had been impressed not only by the logic of Brian’s arguments, she said, but by the evident strength of his feeling. It was obvious that he wanted her not to work much more than she wanted to work.
    Danielle’s response was immediate and indignant. If Erica wanted to work at all, she announced, she had a right to; wasn’t it her life? It was not her obligation to consider the unconscious motives of J. D. Barclay or the financial needs of hypothetical graduate students. As for the domestic problem, if Erica was making $2.50 an hour she could hire someone else to clean the house and do the laundry, couldn’t she?
    Yes, Erica said; she could. And armed with these counterarguments she returned home, anticipating another long, stimulating discussion. In order to enjoy it fully, she waited until late that evening, when the children had finished doing their homework to rock music and gone to bed.
    “I was thinking some more about that research job,” she said. “I ought to let Mr. Barclay know by Monday if I’m going to take it; it’s only right.”
    “I thought we’d decided you wouldn’t,” said Brian, glancing at his wife briefly and frowning with impatience. “I thought we decided that two days ago.”
    “Mm, but you know, I was thinking about it again.” Erica smiled charmingly.
    “Oh, really.” Brian looked up; his frown and her smile collided in midair; both exploded.
    “Yes.” Erica kept her voice even and clear. “It occurred to me that I could easily manage it if I got someone to come in two or three afternoons a week. Someone who could be here when Matilda and Jeffrey got home; and maybe she could do some of the cleaning and laundry too. A sort of housekeeper. Do you think that’s a good idea?”
    “No, not very,” Brian replied. This was the wrong answer. He should have said, as he often did, that of course she could have help if she wanted it; whereupon she would have said, as she always did, that she wasn’t sure she wanted to have any other woman taking care of her house and family.
    “You know I don’t like to have strangers in the house,” Brian added.
    “I know.” Erica frowned; now he was saying her lines.
    “Anyhow, we can’t afford it.”
    This too was her line. Erica began to feel that she had decided against her job for Brian’s reasons and not her own. After all, her first impulse had been toward it. If she were to back out now she would have wasted a lot of time and effort for nothing, except possibly to prove her own cowardice. Privately, she had thought of the job as a test: in a week she would be forty, and she had never earned money for anything