"Nothing wrong with that; though, as Roz said, that's what they all say. I want to propose a toast." Hale raised his glass. "To PK-20. The beginning of a new era for Eiger Labs."
"I like that," said Jerry. "Great success, Quentin."
"So," Vera said as the waiters began to serve the soup. "Can you say it's magic?"
There was a pause. "You know, I'm not sure," Hale replied. "What does our lawyer say about that.? Jerry.?"
"I think you could show castles and fairy godmothers, the whole bit, and talk about magic and so on, but why would you.?
Isn't the whole idea that we're talking about science, not art, and your product is more scientific than anybody else's?"
"Right," said Lloyd. "That's what we push in the stores; people have more confidence in science than they do in magic." "That's kind of sad," Lucy said.
"Aren't you selling hope.'*" Claire asked. "You don't guarantee anything, do you.^"
''Guarantee?'' Lloyd echoed. "God, that's asking for lawsuits. Hope.^ I don't know. Quentin, are we selling hope.^"
"And performance," Quentin said. "These products come from scientific research; we're not mixing ingredients at random. But of course Claire is right: the bottom line is that any woman buying our products, or any cosmetics, does so because she has hope. She hopes to look younger; she hopes that looking younger means she'll look more beautiful and sexually attractive; she hopes that, as Vera said, she'll also feel younger and have more energy. Which means she can compete with younger women. In and out of bed."
"But that sounds like you're selling hostility between women," said Claire.
There was a shocked silence. "Oh, Quentin didn't mean that," said Lucy.
"Good God, of course not," Hale said. "We're not in the business of running ads about hostility."
"Anyway," Lloyd said, "there's always competition in life; ask the man who owns five hundred stores. So if women feel they have to look young and beautiful to be competitive, what's wrong with that.^"
"Well," Roz said, "I can't imagine competing with other women for men—what a waste of time—but it's true that women don't use makeup and face creams to compete with men, so—"
"So that's the way the world is," Lloyd said with finality.
"—so they're like weapons of war."
"War paint," said Selma, and a small, nervous giggle escaped her.
"It has nothing to do with war!" Hale exclaimed. "I told you, we have nothing to do with hostility or war or weapons; we don't even talk about competition. We give women hope that they can be whatever it is they want to be."
"And a chance to pamper ourselves," said Claire, hoping to
make up for what had clearly been a blunder. "All those cosmetics and shampoos and bath oils are wonderful for pampering; they make us feel special to ourselves."
"Oh, all this analyzing," said Selma impatiently. "Women want to be beautiful because it's better to be beautiful than to be ugly, just like it's better to be rich than poor. It's hardly complicated."
"I like that idea of pampering," said Hale. "Just paying attention to you and nobody else for a while. Not the kids, not the husband, not the boss at work, just you. I think I'll play around with that."
"That's something else," Claire said, feeling bolder. "We play with cosmetics. Like adult toys."
"Interesting idea," said Jerry.
Hale thought about it. "It could be. We wouldn't talk about toys—we want Eiger products to be taken seriously—but the idea of playing, the fun of it, not this deadly desperation to erase time, that's got possibilities."
"But we don't do it for fun," Lucy said. "We do it to look younger. Claire, you do agree with that."
"I think we want to be the best we can be," Claire said. "Not necessarily the most beautiful woman in town, or the youngest looking, but the best each of us can be. Of course, we never know what that is, so we keep trying new products to see if we can keep on getting better indefinitely, which I guess is what keeps cosmetics companies in business."
Hale and Quentin exchanged a look. "Pampering, fun, the best you can be," Hale said. "What a great way to launch PK-20."
"PK-20," Selma said. "It doesn't sound beautiful. What does it mean.^"
"Nothing," Quentin replied. "One of the chemists pulled it out of the air; I think his kid's initials are PK. But it has a nice scientific sound, and we'll give it a number of variations: Super PK-20, Special PK-20, Maintenance PK-20; Eye Restorative PK-20; whatever we need."
"And what is it, really.'"' Selma asked. "I mean, how many products and how do we sell it.^"
"We're writing the literature that goes with it now," Quentin said. "You'll get a packet describing each product in the line, and instructions, with a set of six samples, that you can give to anyone
who asks about it. The whole Hne will have over fifty products, and what they will do is temporarily eliminate wrinkles—"
"Temporarily?" Roz asked in surprise. "Nobody says 'temporarily.' "
"Of course not," Quentin said. "But only a fool would think we're promising permanence. What we say is that wrinkles disappear when our products rehydrate the skin. As long as men and women use it, their skin won't dry out and they'll look younger. Not as tight and plump as a teenager, but the closest they'll get this side of the surgeon's knife."
"But you're going to say more than that," said Jerry. "I mean, everybody from Maybelline to Estee Lauder says they'll make you look young and beautiful and ravishingly desirable."
"No, they don't say that," Hale said. "They hint."
"We're going to come from two directions," Quentin said. "One is what Hale was talking about: pampering, fun, whatever he comes up with to attract customers through their emotions. The other is the scientific one to get customers through logic. I'll tell you briefly how that will go." He sat back while the waiters cleared the soup bowls and served the main course. When they were gone, he said, "You all know about retinol; it's been around for a long time, first used for acne, but then it was found to increase the ability of the skin to retain moisture. What we've found is an enzyme that works as a catalyst, binding a polypeptide chain to the retinol molecule. The enhanced retinol molecule works faster and with more potency; it increases by fifteen to twenty percent the ability of cells to retain moisture. By doing this it regenerates cells that would otherwise decrease with age, which is what leads to dehydration and dulling of the skin tone. This hypermolecule eliminates wrinkles, makes the skin soft, even gives it a kind of glow that literally transforms it."
"And the FDA doesn't call it a drug.^" Lloyd asked.
"They've told us they'll approve it as an over-the-counter product any day now; they've decided it's not a drug. The fifty products will include cleanser, toner, moisturizer, day cream, night cream, three stages of repair formula for different ages and for moderate to difficult skin conditions, and an eye cream to eliminate puffiness. They'll be sold as a full line, and only in pharmacies and department stores; we won't sell them in beauty salons or grocery stores or drugstores that don't have pharmacies
and separate, professionally staffed cosmetics sections. Our people will be trained in how to use the line, and they'll go to the pharmacies and department stores to train cosmeticians and pharmacists in how to use and sell it."
"And one assumes it will be very expensive," said Vera.
"It's unique; it's amazingly effective. Customers will pay for that."
"Do you know how much yet.^" Lloyd asked. Claire saw that he was making notes on a small pad in his hand below the edge of the table.
"It depends on the product. We'll set the retail price for the cleanser and toner at as little as thirty dollars each. The repair formulas are on a sliding scale; the one for people over forty-five with serious skin problems will cost a little over four hundred dollars for an ounce and a half."
Jerry gave a low whistle.
"How long will that last.^" Vera asked.
"Six months," Quentin said.
"Lloyd," Selma sa
id. "Fifty products! Where do we get the space.^"
"Somebody else's line may have to go, or where we can, we build a new counter, take space from something else in the store. We'd have to see how successful it is, first." Lloyd looked at Quentin. "We'll get our usual markup.'"'
"Of course, depending on quantity," Quentin replied. "You'd have to agree not to discount it, but I wouldn't expect you to, in your shops."
"Well, all that chemistry just blew past me," Selma said, "but I love the sound of the rest of it. When do I get to try it, Quentin.?"
"Early next year, if we stay on schedule. Hale's budget for advertising is fifty million to start; we want to be in the women's magazines with teasers in January, and we'll ship to the stores in March." He looked around the table. "Have I answered all the questions.?"
"Is it safe.?" Claire asked.
"Good heavens," Lucy gasped. "What a question."
"Eiger Labs has never, ever, had a problem with a product," Hale said definitively.
"The FDA takes care of that," Selma said. "They don't let
unsafe products in the stores. I never think about things Hke that; I let the government take care of it. That's what they're there for."
"Which reminds me of our city council," Hale said, and the conversation turned to local politics and Claire only half-listened, not knowing the people they were discussing. But later, over coffee, dates were made: a weekend for Claire and Emma in Southport with Lucy and Jerry—"and do bring Quentin," Lucy said with a smile that made Claire and Quentin an established couple; lunch with Vera; an afternoon with Roz, "and when you're there, we'll figure out when you and Emma want to have riding lessons"; a visit to Petrosky's in Danbury with Selma and Lloyd; and a shopping expedition to New York with Lucy. Claire's small, leather-bound datebook was beside her on the table, and as she penciled in dates for the next few weeks, she thought of Emma and Hannah and Gina and her other friends. When would she have time for all of them.^
I'll find time, she thought. I'll fit it all in. I don't want to miss this; it's too new and different. She listened to the conversation around the table, on recent trips to Europe, and then heard Lucy and Jerry Emmons suggest that she and Quentin join them at Lake Como in September. I must have passed, Claire thought. She was keyed up and alert and she thought she was having a good time. She was with people who had money and made things happen and were more polished than the people on the cruise; she had held her own with them and they seemed to like her; at least they wanted to see more of her; and she was with Quentin. It was very heady; more proof, if she needed it, of how far she had come in just two months.
"Well, you sure have," Gina said the next day. They were shopping in the Danbury Mall, talking as they browsed through the stores, slowly making their way to a coffee bar for a cappuccino. "You look different, too."
"How.?" Claire asked.
"You don't slouch. You used to walk with your head down; now it's mostly up. I like the new vou; is it money.? Or the new guy.?"
"Oh, probably both. There's nothing like money to take away a whole bunch of worries, and maybe those are what made me
slouch. And I wouldn't have this particular new guy if I didn't have money."
"You mean he doesn't like poor working women.''"
"I don't think he notices them. I think it's important to Quen-tin that the people he's close to have money. He doesn't like surprises; he likes to be in control, and one way of doing that is keeping people around him who all take the same things for granted."
Gina's eyebrows rose. "You mean cruises and private dining rooms and owning five hundred drugstores and thousand-acre farms and all that sort of thing."
Claire gave a small laugh. "Something like that."
"And you're taking all that for granted now.''"
"No." Claire thought about it. "But I don't look surprised when people talk about those things. I guess I'm not surprised. It's so different from that first day, when Emma and I went to Simone's. We were wide-eyed at everything. Now it more or less rolls off me; I really can understand how people begin to take money for granted. You kind of slide into things when you can afford them, and then they're familiar, so you're not surprised by them anymore. It just seems quite natural that they're there, and within reach, and when that happens, the prices lose their meaning. It's very strange. I didn't plan it; it just happened, and now it's very confusing: I don't know the value of things anymore. I used to know if fifteen dollars, or fifty or five hundred, was too much for something, but now those are just numbers, and if they're attached to things I want, I buy them and I don't think about whether it's a good price or not."
"Like that blouse this morning," Gina said. "That terrific blouse. The most terrific blouse I ever saw. And it cost eight hundred and fifty dollars."
Claire flushed, because coming from Gina the number sounded crazier than it had when she read it on the price tag. "Maybe that was a good price for that blouse. I don't know anymore."
"You just knew that you wanted it, so you bought it."
"Well, why not.?"
"Damned if I know. If it doesn't make a huge hole in your checkbook—"
"It doesn't, that's the whole point; Olivia took care of that. I keep buying and my account stays the same. I told you about that."
"Automatic transfer of funds," Gina murmured. "Something like 'Open sesame.'
"It is. The whole thing is a fairs' tale."
"But you can't spend more than two million a year. I mean, that's all you've got."
"Yes." Their eyes met and they burst into laughter. "That's all I've got," Claire said mockingly. "And I'll never be able to spend more than a part of it."
"The house," Gina said.
"Well, yes, but that was one time. I'm not going to buy a house every vear and add to the mortgage payments I've already got."
"Well, you'll find other ways to spend it. If you run out of ideas, maybe I can think of a few. Or what's his name will, so you can keep up with his glittery social life. I'll bet he's good at having ideas. What else is he good at.''"
"He's good to talk to—a little too self-satisfied sometimes, but always interesting. He knows good restaurants. He's a good dancer. He has a way of making other people look up to him and stay close, as if they might learn something important and valuable if they hang around and listen to him long enough."
"And.?"'
"And he's very good in bed."
"That's last on your list.?"
"They're all about equal, Gina, you know that."
"They're only equal when you've got somebody. If you're sleeping alone, it tops the list. Have you forgotten that.?"
"No, I remember. It hasn't been so long ago."
"Are you in love with him.?"
"No.''
"But you could be.?"
Claire hesitated. "I don't know. I don't think so. He's not very- lovable. He's just impressive."
"Well, I guess I could use some of that," Gina murmured.
"Lovable or impressive.?"
"Both. Lovable for mv nights and impressive to find mc a job."
At the coffee bar, they sat at a small table in the corner. Claire picked up the menu, trying to think of what to say. For fifteen years she and Gina had been as close as sisters, working hard at their jobs, always worrying about having enough money, wondering if they would ever find someone they could love and live with. Gina had been a kind of second mother to Emma. Now all that had changed. It was still easier to talk to Gina than to anyone else, but Claire did not know how long that would last. I can't lose Gina, she thought as she stared blindly at the menu. She and Emma are all that's really solid in my life; everything else is still a fairy^ tale. And Hannah. Hannah is solid, too.
They gave their order to the waiter. "Listen," she said. "I know you said you didn't want me to help you—"
"I said I didn't want to start sponging."
"Well, okay, you won't sponge. I don't want you to. But what if I asked Quentin to find you a place at E
iger Labs.^ They're starting a whole new line now, and they might be needing lab technicians. Would it be all right if I asked him.^ You'd have to commute to Norwalk."
"That's nothing." Gina's eyes were bright. "Could you really do that.^ God, Claire, that would be your good deed for the decade." She picked up a shaker of cocoa powder and turned it around in her fingers. "This has been the damnedest time for me, like some kind of midlife crisis. I've been trying to figure out who the hell I am. I'm thirty-seven years old and I'm not interested in getting married and I'll never have kids and I don't see much of my parents and I don't have a job. So what am I.'*"
"You're my friend. You're Emma's . . . oh, sort of second mother; you've been part of her growing up. And you're definitely part of our family."
"Claire, I love you, but all that doesn't give me a peg to hang my hat on. If I don't have a family of my own, not even someone I love to live with, then I need a job, so I know what to call myself."
"What's wrong with Gina Sawyer.^"
"It's not enough. You have to be attached to something. Gina Sawyer, lab technician, isn't bad; it gives me a whole industry to be part of, and a job description, and other people to work with who know who I am. And it's been incredibly awful to be without that. Every day I get up and tell myself this is the day I'll get a job
and be in charge of my life again and know who I am; and then at night I go to bed with no job, no money, and no reason to think tomorrow will be any different. Nobody can know how that feels until you get fired; like you're out there in space, not connected with the rest of the world that's busy going to work and doing things; you're drifting, and you feel like you're not real and not alive because you're not doing anything. Except looking for a job, and that's not a satisfying way to spend the day." She looked at the cappuccino the waiter set before her. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to dump on you."
"You're supposed to dump on me; that's what I'm here for." Claire held out her hand for the shaker, and when Gina gave it to her, she sprinkled cocoa powder onto the froth in her cup. "I'm sorry; I've been so busy spending money and meeting people and wallowing in luxury that I didn't pay much attention to what was happening to you."
Pot of Gold Page 17
