I stopped cutting up the carrots to walk over to where he was sitting and gave Steve a long, warm, heartfelt kiss. Steve had always been wonderful—maybe too wonderful—about my lack of any kind of career that had perks, benefits or a pension plan. During the years when our kids were growing up, I never gave much thought to the future but ever since Jane and Tyler officially became adults, I’ve found myself thinking more and more about what it was going to be like when Steve and I retired. That lack of kicking in for savings for our golden years from my end was getting to me. Although I knew Steve didn’t see it the same way and that he’d wanted me to stay home when the kids were young, I still felt a little like a parasite. A middle-aged, slightly plump parasite. “Thank you,” I told him sincerely once I was done kissing him, “but I’m sure it’s going to be fine. You know how I’ve always wanted to be a writer and now I am. Well, sort of.”
“You’ve always wanted to be a romance writer,” Steve pointed out. “There’s a world of difference between writing hot, sweaty bedroom scenes and churning out a story on the latest town council meeting. Fiction and journalism are worlds apart.”
“I certainly hope so!” I replied.
“All I’m saying is that if you don’t like it, quit. There are plenty of other jobs out there, ones that aren’t as stressful as reporting.”
“How do you know reporting is stressful?”
“I saw a report online about the most stressful jobs and being a reporter was one of the worst. In addition to being stressful, it also has lousy pay, bad hours and a high turnover.”
“Even lousy pay is better than no pay,” I said a touch stubbornly. “Which is what I’ve had for way too long.”
“I just don’t want to see you get into something that is too much for you.”
“Too much for me? Because I’m too old?” I demanded.
“Whoa,” Steve said quickly. “Of course not. You aren’t old at all. All I’m saying is that if you don’t like it, quit. I want you to be happy more than anything else.”
“I’ll be happy. I’m going to love it. I think being a journalist is just about the most glamorous job in the world. Remember Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman in All the President’s Men? It was journalists who changed the course of American history.”
“You just like Robert Redford movies,” Steve replied.
“Only the ones from the 1970s,” I said, “when his hair was so blond and sexy and before he got his eyes fixed. Men should never have their eyes fixed. Promise me you’ll never get your eyes fixed.”
“I promise,” Steve said, “although it isn’t something I’ve given a whole lot of thought to. But back to the subject, I don’t think that writing stories for the Kemper Times is going to be anything like discovering corruption at the presidential level and writing about it for the Washington Post.”
“You never know,” I said. “Maybe I’ll discover a big story right here in Kemper.”
Steve looked doubtful. “I’d prefer it if you’d just stay out of trouble.”
“Don’t I always?” I asked. Steve opened his mouth again and I had the distinct impression that he was about to remind me of what had happened on my last job, when I was a self-employed caterer and one of my customers had died right after eating the very first meal I’d ever catered—although it had nothing to do with the food I’d prepared. I spoke quickly before he had the chance to bring up that unfortunate incident. “I hope you’re hungry because dinner is going to be spectacular.” Wiping my hands on a red and white checked dish towel, I glanced at the kitchen clock. “Jane said she’d be here at six. Do you know if Tyler is joining us?”
Steve shook his head. “I haven’t seen your son today. Are you sure he’s up?”
Not wanting to get into yet another discussion on Tyler’s habits, sleeping and otherwise, I changed the subject. “Are you going to change out of your work clothes before dinner?”
“You bet I am. I hate dressing like a professor. I always feel like a fraud. Come upstairs and keep me company,” he requested. “I want to hear more about your day. Did you get an assignment?”
I set the vegetable tray on the kitchen table. “No. Jeff said he’d have an assignment for me soon.”
Steve and I started toward the staircase. Padding through the familiar house where Steve and I have spent the majority of our married years, it seemed somehow sweeter to me after spending half the day away from it. No doubt about it, I’m truly a homebody, happiest in my very own nest. It was going to take some getting used to, having to leave home every day.
Up in our bedroom, I decided to get out of my work clothes too. I peeled off my khaki slacks and sweater and put on yoga pants and a T-shirt and felt the instant relief of wearing non-restraining clothes that didn’t pinch me at the waistline. That was another plus of being a stay-at-home mom for so many years; I never had to wear anything other than sweatpants or jeans along with a comfy top. I had the feeling that I wouldn’t even remember how to put on a pair of pantyhose. Well, that was a point in favor of being a journalist. No one ever expected them to be dressed up since everyone knew they didn’t make enough money to buy decent wardrobes.
Steve stepped out of his slacks and hung them up in our closet. “Did you get a chance to mention your idea for a weekly column to your new boss?”
“I thought I’d hold off on that one for a little while.”
“Good idea,” Steve agreed as he put on pair of jeans. “Give it a week or two but be sure to tell him you want to write one. I know you’d be a hit.”
Is it really any wonder why I’m so nuts about my husband? It’s like living with my own personal cheerleader. “I’ll bring it up as soon as I’m feeling more comfortable,” I promised.
“Then we could really retire in style.”
“Would you stop worrying about retiring already?” Steve came over and wrestled me onto the bed. “I married you for your body, not your money, remember?”
“Hello!” a voice called from the back door. “Mom? Dad? Tyler? Anybody here?”
“That’s Jane. She’s early.” I wriggled out of Steve’s embrace somewhat reluctantly. It felt pretty wonderful to be pinned underneath him.
“I’ll be down in two minutes,” Steve promised. He touched my arm as I walked past him on my way out of the room. “DeeDee, I’m really proud of you. It takes a lot of courage to try something new.”
I quickly kissed him. “You mean it takes even more courage to try something new at my age.”
“At any age,” he said. “You’re wonderful.”
Kissing him again I said, “So are you.”
“I can’t believe you’re actually working for the Kemper Times,” Jane said after accepting a glass of chilled white wine from me. “That is so cool, Mom!” Steve, Jane and I were sitting at the kitchen table enjoying veggies and dip and a glass of wine before dinner.
“It is,” I agreed as I tried not to notice how quickly Jane drank her wine. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to serving my kids wine instead of juice boxes. “I kept having to pinch myself to make sure I was really awake and not dreaming. I only applied there because I read an article once that said when you’re looking for a new job, apply to all the places where you’d like to work and the newspaper was my first choice.”
“Sounds like a good strategy to me,” Jane said after finishing her glass of wine and reaching for the bottle to pour herself another. “You’ve always written stuff so why not get paid for it? You shouldn’t volunteer all the time. People take advantage of you that way.”
Steve’s eyes met mine across the kitchen table. Life is always so logical when you are twenty-eight years old and make more money than your parents combined. “She’s getting paid for writing now,” Steve said.
“Once I get an assignment I will be,” I added. “So far I’m getting paid for cleaning the coffee pot out.”
The back door opened and our son Tyler loped into the room. The door slammed behind him making the knickknacks on the kitc
hen window sill bounce and Steve, Jane and I jump in our seats. Tyler has always entered a room like a hurricane rushing down a cornfield. “Sorry I’m late,” he said.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here at all,” I told him, “so you aren’t really late.”
“I wasn’t sure either,” Tyler replied. “How was your first day, Mom?”
“Come join us and she’ll tell you,” Steve suggested.
After grabbing a lite beer from the refrigerator, Tyler took his place at the table. For a moment I was transported back to a sweeter time when the four of us ate together every single night and the only things we had to worry about were report cards and how much money the tooth fairy should leave. Of course, back then, both Jane and Tyler drank milk instead of beer and wine and neither of them had tattoos or piercings or married boyfriends. What can I say? Once a mom, always a mom.
“Did you meet Bob Meredith?” Tyler asked eagerly. “His columns are awesome.”
“His columns are disgusting!” Jane informed her brother with all the imperiousness that older sisters have bestowed on younger brothers throughout the ages. “Small wonder you like them. He has the sense of humor of an overgrown adolescent with a challenged pituitary gland.”
“He does not! That guy’s hilarious, although a person has to have a sense of humor to appreciate that quality in another person so that pretty much rules you out, Janie.”
“I happen to have a wonderful sense of humor but since it’s a mature sense of humor, you’d never appreciate it.”
“You do have a mature sense of humor. Sometimes I think you were born seventy-five years old,” Tyler replied. Jane threw a carrot stick at him.
“Let’s have some peace while we eat, please,” I suggested.
“So did you meet him, Mom?” Tyler asked again.
I nodded as I thought about the grumpy old man I’d met in the break room. “Yes, I did.”
“That is so cool! Is he as funny in person as he is in the paper?” Tyler asked.
“Well, no…but I’m afraid I never found his column all that funny in the first place. I guess it’s an acquired taste.”
“Like liver and onions,” Jane suggested. “Or arsenic.”
“He’s a comic genius,” Tyler assured me. “Can I come down to the paper and meet him sometime?”
I couldn’t remember Tyler ever being so interested in anything I’d done before and I was flattered. “Sure,” I said, “as soon as I get used to working there myself, okay?”
“What we need to concentrate on is a great story idea for Mom to cover,” Steve said. “Something that will make her really stand out.”
Leave it to Steve to read between the lines and be able to tell that I was a tad hurt that I hadn’t gotten an assignment yet. I suppose that I was being a little impatient—after all, it was my first day on the job—but I had kind of expected to have more to do than cleaning out the coffee pot and bringing four cups of coffee to my new boss over the course of the morning. I suppose after thirtysome years of marriage, it doesn’t really take ESP to read each other’s thoughts. By this point it’s pretty hard to hide anything from each other. “Yes,” I agreed, “help me come up with a truly knock-your-socks-off story that will make Jeff Henderson stand up and take notice of his new cub reporter and wonder how he ever got along without me.”
Tyler wrinkled his smooth forehead as he thought. “There’s talk that a new tattoo parlor will be opening up downtown this summer,” he offered. “It’s going to be pretty unique—a tattoo parlor and a bar. Cool idea, huh? I might try to get a job there.”
“That’s a terrible idea! You have a few drinks and wake up with a map of Australia tattooed on your butt,” Jane said. “Although it would be a cool idea if you tried to get a job anywhere. You aren’t getting any younger, baby brother.”
“I am trying,” Tyler told her. “It’s a tough job market.”
“Especially when you don’t really have any talent,” Jane replied sweetly.
“That’s enough, Jane,” I said a little sharply. Jane can go too far when it comes to needling Tyler. “Tyler will find a job he likes soon enough.”
“Enrollment is up at Kemper College,” Steve told me, ignoring our squabbling offspring, “although I know that’s not too exciting.”
“That’s a thought,” I said, wracking my own brain to see if I could come up with something myself but my mind drew a complete blank. The only interesting thing I’d heard lately was that the former president of the PTO was having a fling with one of the town’s garbage men and that was only hearsay and not anything that could be printed in the newspaper anyway.
“There’s something big happening at Kutrate Kemicals,” Jane said slowly. “No, never mind. It’s not really a story yet.”
“What is it?” I asked, pouncing on her hesitation like a cat on a mouse. It was obvious that my nose for news was quickly developing. “What did you hear?”
Jane finished her second glass of wine. “Rumor has it that Kutrate is coming up with an exciting new weight loss product.” Jane had been working as an accountant at Kutrate Kemicals, Kemper’s largest employer, since graduating from college.
“Why would a chemical company be getting into something like that? I thought your company just made things like vitamins and prescription medicines that people don’t really need and eventually end up killing them,” Tyler said.
Jane looked at her younger brother with the disdainful expression that she had perfected back when they were both still in diapers. “We make all kinds of different products, Tyler, and for your information, the weight loss field is huge. People spend billions on different kinds of weight loss tools.”
“Just another way to separate fools from their money,” Tyler told her. “If you want to lose weight, eat less. It’s pretty simple.”
“Simple for you,” I told him, looking at his six foot four, one hundred and seventy pound body. “It’s not so easy for everyone.”
“Exactly,” Jane agreed.
“What is the weight lost product?” I inquired. Whatever it was, I hoped it worked. My own jeans were getting a little tight around the waist band and I really didn’t want to move up a size. Not when I had a closetful of jeans that were size fourteen.
“It’s all very hush hush,” Jane responded. “I’m not supposed to even know about it but a friend of mine in R and D—that’s research and development—told me a little bit about it.” Her face turned red and I wondered just how good of a friend she was talking about. “Actually, he’s the person who invented it. He’s really a chemical genius.”
“Your secret is safe with the four of us,” Steve told her. “We’re family. You can trust us.”
“Well,” Jane said, “It’s pretty technical. I’m not sure you'd understand it.”
Steve and I smiled at each other. “Probably not,” I agreed, “but maybe if you dumb it down we might be able to get a little idea of what it is.”
“All right but you have to promise me that you won’t tell a soul.”
“We promise,” Steve said solemnly.
“You too, Tyler?” Jane demanded.
“Who would I tell? No one I know cares about weight loss. Speaking of food, when are we going to eat, Mom?”
“As soon as your sister finishes her story,” I promised.
“What are we having?”
“Chicken enchilada casserole.”
Tyler’s face lit up. “All right! Would you hurry up already?” Tyler asked Jane. “I swear I won’t tell anyone what your company is up to unless it’s totally illegal and needs to be reported to the EPA.”
Satisfied with our vows of secrecy, Jane began. “Fritz, he’s the inventor, has come up with a product that kills appetite. A couple of squirts and people aren’t hungry anymore.”
Steve, Tyler and I stared at her. “That sounds pretty unbelievable,” I said.
“It sounds impossible,” Steve agreed.
“So what does it smell like? Food?” Tyler asked
.
“No, Tyler,” Jane said. “If it smelled like food that would make people more hungry, lamebrain. I knew this would be too complicated for you.”
“Then what does it smell like?” I asked as I tried to imagine what it would be like to spray something into the air and suddenly lose my desire for chocolate chip cookies to go along with my afternoon cup of coffee. It sounded like a marvelous idea that would make Kutrate Kemicals at least a billion dollars.
Jane’s eyes darted around the kitchen as if she was looking for hidden corporate spies hiding behind the microwave. “The company is working the bugs out on that one,” she said in a hushed tone.
“What does that mean?” Steve asked.
“Right now it doesn’t smell too...pleasant,” Jane explained. “But it will. I have every confidence that Fritz will solve the odor problem and we’ll be on the market within the year. After that, the sky’s the limit. Can you imagine? Fat loss in an aerosol can! It should win the Nobel Prize and really put Kutrate Kemicals on the map.”
“It sounds too good to be true.” It really did. Spraying something in the air that made a person lose weight would beat the heck out of sweating at the gym but having been around the weight loss block at least a thousand times in my own lifetime, I couldn’t help being more than a little skeptical about Kutrate Kemicals new miracle product. There had to be a downside to it somewhere.
“It’s going to change the weight loss industry,” Jane said. “Fritz is sure of it. May I have another glass of wine? It will be my last one,” Jane said hastily, “so you don’t need to lecture me on drinking and driving for the millionth time. I know my limit. Fritz explained all about body chemistry to me and I know I need to quit after three glasses or it will turn to fat. He’s really amazing. I could listen to him talk for hours.”
Steve and I exchanged another glance. It sounded like our daughter had something of a crush on this Fritz person. Well, an employed chemist would be an improvement over her last choice, a married creep.
Black and White and Dead All Over: A Midlife Crisis Mystery (Midlife Crisis Mysteries) Page 3
