by Claire Cook
“There you go, big guy,” I said as I brushed him off.
Geri held out her hand.
I put him behind my back. “I don’t think so,” I said.
“But it’s my birthday,” Geri whined. “And, besides, you already have St. Christopher.”
“Exactly,” I said. “St. Joseph wants to play with St. Christopher.”
“The Church is frowning on that these days,” my mother said.
We both turned to look at her. “Good line, Mom,” Geri and I said at the same time. “Owe me a Coke,” we both said as fast as we could.
My mother gave a little curtsy, then held out her hand for St. Joseph. “I’ll take him to the townhouse with us for good luck,” she said.
I handed him over. “All right,” I said. “I guess they can visit each other.”
I gave Geri the shovel, and she started filling in the hole again. “So, what’s the scoop on you bringing Noah today?” she asked. “Must be love, it’s not even dark out.”
“Cute,” I said. She was making a mess of things, so I grabbed the shovel away from her and started doing it the right way myself.
“Too bad,” she said. “I was kind of rooting for the gaffer.”
“What is a gaffer anyway?” my mother asked.
“An electrician,” Geri said. “Everybody knows that.”
“Don’t talk like that to your mother,” my mother said. “Even if it is your birthday.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Geri said.
I put the circle of grass back and leaned on the shovel. “I don’t know,” I said. “I think it just hit me that I could spend the rest of my life leapfrogging from guy to guy, or I could stick around long enough to try to make it work with Noah.”
“Good girl,” my mother said.
“Well, just make sure you hang on to the gaffer’s contact info,” Geri said. “It never hurts to have a backup plan.”
“Thank you so much for your optimism,” I said.
A part of me was a little bit sad that I couldn’t have Noah and the gaffer, but most of me was ready to press delete. I fished my cell phone out of my pocket and found the gaffer on my speed dial.
I held up the phone. “Say good-bye to the gaffer,” I said to Geri.
“Don’t do it,” she yelled.
I had to. We gave the gaffer a moment of silence after he was gone, then Geri clapped her hands together. “You know, this reminds me of a joke I used to tell in fourth grade.”
“You are so bizarre,” I said. I started walking back to the garage with the shovel.
They caught up to me. “Okay,” Geri said. “What’s green and hops from bed to bed?”
“I don’t know, what?” my mother and I said.
“A prostifrog!” Geri said.
We looked at her blankly.
“I think you mean prostitoad, dear,” my mother finally said.
Geri let out a puff of air. “So that’s why nobody ever laughed.”
I put the shovel back in the garage and pulled the door shut. “You so didn’t get the joke gene,” I said. “And by the way, just because I haven’t been with the same guy since 1752 doesn’t mean I have a single promiscuous bone in my whole body.”
“Oh, puh-lease,” Geri said. “It’s not like I haven’t read your college diary.”
“Mom!” I said. “Did you hear that?”
The stereo blasted out from the house, and Eva Cassidy started singing “What a Wonderful World.” I thought about running up to my apartment to get Jazzy J so they could make it a duet, but I couldn’t seem to move. Her voice gave me shivers, like it always did. There was something about her singing that was so pure, so heartfelt, so simple. Maybe that was art. I wondered if a piece of jewelry I made would ever make anyone feel this way.
Geri had already ordered the Life’s a Beach bottles online, so I just might find out soon enough. One thing about going into business with my sister, she was pretty productive once she stopped obsessing about turning fifty.
The door opened, and Noah and Sage and the kids came running out of the house. Noah squatted down so Becca could climb onto his back, and Riley jumped up on Rachel’s. They piggyback raced across the yard with Sage chasing after them.
My father came out next. He stopped and pulled up his matching tan socks, then put one hand behind his ear and tilted his head. “I knew there was nothing wrong with those speakers, Toots,” he yelled over the music. “Can you believe someone left them at the Take It or Leave It? Good thing I already had them in the trunk before those coppers caught me.”
My mother sprinted across the yard to meet my father, and they started to dance. Seth came out and started walking over to Geri. “Five more minutes on those coals,” he yelled.
I turned around, and Noah and the kids were right behind me. Riley looked down from Rachel’s back. “Sorry about your car, Aunt Ginger,” he said.
“That’s okay,” I said. “Sorry about your movie.”
“It’s okay. Manny said he’d send me a video.”
Rachel galloped off with Riley. Becca jumped down from Noah’s back and ran after them. Sage waited until Noah gave her a pat, then she was right behind them.
“Hey,” Noah said. He leaned over and gave me a kiss in broad daylight. He smelled like charcoal and dog, which was sexier than it should have been.
“Hey,” I said.
We smiled at each other for a moment or two, then he handed me something wrapped in newspaper. “Here, I made this for you. Your father told me how you get jealous when Geri gets presents and you don’t.”
“Don’t ever forget that,” I said. I unwrapped the crinkled newsprint. “It’s gorgeous,” I said. “What is it?”
“It’s a frog palace. Basically, it’s a variation on the toad abode. I’m not sure how functional it is, and I don’t know if essentially you’re ever going to improve on the lily pad, but that was the vibe I was going for.”
I turned it around in my hands so I could get a better look. The swoop of the green glass roof was so graceful I wanted to shrink myself down so I could walk through the front door. “Wow,” I said. “You’re amazing. I’d love to live in one of these. It doesn’t come in a larger size, does it?”
“Of course it does,” Noah said. “Move in with me, and I’ll whip us up a bigger one.”
“Just like that?” I asked.
“Just like that,” Noah said.
When we stopped kissing, Eva Cassidy was still singing, though she’d moved on to “Blue Skies” now. My parents were still dancing, and Geri and Seth were dancing now, too. Rachel was pushing Boyfriend and the kittens around in the new double cat stroller my father had found for them, and Becca and Riley each held one of Sage’s front paws while they circled around together.
“Hey,” I said. “You don’t want to dance, do you?”
“Sure, I do,” Noah said. “I thought you’d never ask.”
USER’S GUIDE TO THE FUN, FEISTY, & FABULOUS
All New & Even Fabbier Edition
TAKE TWO
Wedding videos by a real pro. Capture the scope, the enormity, the epic impact of your special day.
www.manuelmuscadel.com
THE MORE THE MERRIER
You can be massaged by five people at once at the Energy Bank in London. Conveniently located near the Shoreditch stop on the London Underground. 132 Commercial Street, London, E1 6NG. 020 7650 0718.
LIFE’S A BEACH
Cutting-edge sea glass jewelry plus our signature Life’s a Beach bottles to fill with sand on your next romantic trip to your favorite beach. Call Ginger or Geri at 781-555-LIFE to schedule a Life’s a Beach home party.
www.lifesabeachboutique.com
COSMONAUT FOR A DAY
Experience Moscow and true weightlessness at the same time. Each exotic zero-gravity maneuver provides a major twenty-six-second adrenaline rush. Breakfast included.
www.incredible-adventures.com
YO, MUTT’S UP?
Pooch parties, mutt
mingles, and the very best in luxury dog and cat items, including pup pastries and cattitude T-shirts. A utopia for parents and their four-legged substitute children.
www.muttropolis.com
SPARKS WILL FLY
Very experienced gaffer will head up the electrical department on your next film. Also available for house calls between movies.
www.timkelly.com
WHEN YOU REALLY NEED IT
These actors will pretend to be your own personal fan club and scream, faint, and beg for your autograph. Entertainment Express. 1-800-939-7737.
www.entertainmentexpress.us
ART AFFAIR
Join the hundreds of artists and master craftspeople who gather every summer in Laguna Beach for Art-A-Fair, Southern California’s fastest growing arts festival.
www.art-a-fair.com
MAKE IT TO MARSHBURY
Like Mayberry RFD, but with better beaches. Don’t miss the Marshbury Beautification Committee’s annual house and garden tour.
www.marshburymassachusetts.org
FIND YOUR INNER GUTSY WOMAN
Gutsy Women Travel was created to celebrate the indomitable spirit within every woman to experience the world. Amalfi? Am-sterdam? Start packing. Call 866-IMGUTSY.
www.gutsywomentravel.com
RED HAT REVOLUTION
Fun after fifty for women of all walks of life. You must attend functions in full regalia—red hat and purple outfit.
www.redhatsociety.com
DIP ME IN CHOCOLATE
At the Spa at The Hotel Hershey, you’ll experience the Whipped Cocoa Bath and the Chocolate Bean Polish, and luxuriate in the Chocolate Fondue Wrap. 100 Hotel Road, Hershey, Pennsylvania.
www.hersheypa.com
NOAH THE GLASSBLOAH
Award-winning hand-blown glass art. Witches’ Balls a specialty. For open studio schedule and portfolio photo gallery, go to the website.
www.noahtheglassbloah.com
BACON OF THE MONTH CLUB
One pound of the best artisan bacon delivered one day a month for a year, whether you need it or not. Pig pen (ballpoint) and T-shirt included with membership. Call 888-472-5283.
www.gratefulpalate.com
DIVINE INTERVENTION FOR YOUR HOME
Make sure your house is the first on the block to sell with this genuine plastic St. Joseph statue, sealed in clear wrapping to protect it from the dirt. Instruction booklet included.
www.stjosephtradition.com
MALAYSIA MAY I?
Hoo boy, how long has it been since you’ve been to Malaysia? One hundred traditionally crafted bungalows and suites re-create seventeenth-century Malay dwellings. Pristine five-mile beach. Tanjong Jara Resort. Call 011-60-9-845-1100.
GORGEOUS GUMBALLS
Triple-head vending machine with chrome stand combines three full-size vending machine heads into one machine, tripling your options—and your pleasure. Every family should have one.
www.gumballs.com
LLAMA DRAMA
Trekless too long? A three-hour trip from Northern Vermont Llama Company costs a mere $45 and will be the high point of your trip to Waterville, Vermont. Call 802-644-2257 before your friends beat you to it.
FIGGIN’ UNBELIEVABLE
Fruits of the Shore signature treatment inspired by lakeshore fig trees. Gentle exfoliating fig scrub, aromatic fig milk soak, followed by a fantastic full body fig lotion massage. Lake House Spa, Austin, Texas.
www.lakehousespa.com
OH, THOSE PUFFY PAPER BIRDS
Honeycombed decorations, artfully arranged by party planner with extensive beautification experience. Call Allison Flagg. 1-781-555-LOVE.
CANYON RANCH ROUNDUP
Round up five, six, or seven of your friends and head for Tucson, Arizona, or experience the ultimate healthy vacation in the gorgeous wooded hills of Lenox, Massachusetts. Fitness classes, outdoor sports, spa treatments, and life enhancement. No extra charge for spiritual awakenings.
www.canyonranch.com
YOUR PERFECT MATCH
Is your personal life a bit of a beach these days? Whether Noah the glassbloah or Tim Kelly the gaffer is your type, he just might be online waiting for you now.
www.perfectmatch.com
GIRLFRIENDS SPA-AHHH THERAPY
Catch up on everything but sleep in a luxurious suite with up to five of your old or new best friends. Aromatherapy fifty-minute massage, plus breakfast, dinner, and a signature pedicure (for up to fifty of your favorite toes). Sundara Spa, Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin. Call 1-888-735-8181.
www.sundaraspa.com
ALL ABOARD!
Spend a decadent three hours traveling by trolley to three of Boston’s culinary landmarks and enjoying scrumptious chocolate desserts from the city’s best chefs. Chocolate trivia included.
www.trolleytours.com/ChocolateTour
MY BIG BREAK
Experienced eight-year-old actor/comic seeks growth opportunity. Head shot available upon request.
www.freeriley.com
Bonus Chapter from Best Staged Plans
Chapter 1
Okay, so I accidentally wrapped my reading glasses in one of the packages I mailed.
“It could have happened to anyone,” I said to my daughter, Shannon.
“Wow, that’s pretty lame. Even for you, Mom.” The all-knowingness of her three and a half months of marriage reverberated through the phone line.
I ignored it. “If you get them, just mail them back, okay, honey?”
The minute life starts getting easier, your eyes go. So the time you once spent looking after your kids is now spent looking for your reading glasses. I hated that.
“Good one, Sand,” my best friend, Denise, said when I called her next. “Remember that time you left Luke at the pediatrician’s office in his baby carrier?”
“Your point?” I said.
As if summoned by the decades-old reference, Luke lumbered into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. He nodded once, either by way of thanks or a belated good morning, then turned and thudded his way back down to the bat cave.
“Good morning to you, too, honey,” I yelled after him.
I was packing up our old life in order to drag my husband kicking and screaming into a new one. The rest of the morning’s boxes were still sitting on the kitchen island, so I rifled through them quickly. Foam packing peanuts fluttered to the floor like a dusting of snow. As soon as each box proved itself glasses-free, I tore a strip from a mammoth roll of packing tape and sealed it shut.
It’s not like I didn’t have other readers. There were at least a dozen pairs scattered throughout the house. Somewhere. But this pair had been my hands-down absolute favorite. Midnight blue with subtle black stripes and a little extra bling from some silver detailing on the sidepieces. The perfect strong rectangular shape to offset my swiftly sagging jawline. Unique in a world of boring drugstore glasses, they were my go-to readers whenever I needed to see anything smaller than a bread box. The only thing about them that drove me crazy was their tendency to fall off my face when I leaned forward.
It turned out to be their fatal flaw.
Once I’d determined that they’d left the premises, I’d retraced my steps to the post office. The man who’d waited on me earlier was a total jerk. So, of course, wouldn’t you just know he’d still be working when I walked back in.
A kind of angry arrogance radiated from this guy, maybe fueled by the inadequacy of a spindly gray ponytail that petered out inches after it began. “Anything liquid, fragile, perishable, or potentially hazardous?” he’d always ask in such a bullying tone that he’d manage to convince me I was a closet pyromaniac and he was the first to catch on.
I thought my best bet was to strategize so I’d get the nice woman at the other end of the counter. I counted the people in the single line, divided by two, and gave up my place to the person behind me.
Somehow I still got the mean guy.
“Anything liquid, fragile, perishable, or potentially hazar
dous?” he sneered.
“Yeah,” I said. “Apparently my life.” I laughed my best laugh, the one designed to melt the heart of even a great big bully of a jerk.
His flat eyes scanned me like a bar code. “This. Is. Not. A. Joking. Matter.” He took a slow step back and reached for something under the counter. An alarm? A can of Mace? A double-barreled shotgun?
I held up one hand like it might actually protect me. “Sorry,” I said. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. It’s just that you’re not going to believe what I—”
His hand was still under the counter. The crowded post office had gone quiet. I seemed to have fallen into a Seinfeld episode. The guy behind the counter was the post office Nazi. I was Elaine. At least I hoped I was Elaine and not George. Or even Newman. Oh, God, please don’t let me be Newman.
“Answer. The. Question.”
“No,” I said.
One gray eyebrow shot up. “No? You’re refusing to answer the question?”
“No,” I said. “No is the answer to the potentially hazardous question.”
The whole room was staring. I tried to imagine a graceful segue to getting my packages back just long enough for a quick peek inside. No post office rules about how once you send them, neither rain nor snow nor sleet nor reading glasses can impede your packages’ journey to their final destination. No extra charge for double mailing. Ponytail Guy would even help me tape my packages back up with federally funded tape.
