Sleuthing Women

by Lois Winston

  “I guess she’s just proud of having her Ph.D,” I answered. “I’m sure that, when you get your advanced degrees, you’ll be proud of yourself, too.”

  Did I want to tell Jenny that I thought Linda Burns was incredibly pretentious? I was sorely tempted. But Linda Burns was also in a position to help my daughter, and besides, as my mother used to tell me, “If you can’t say something nice about someone, say nothing.”

  So, I clamped my lips together, and said nothing.

  SEVEN

  Marriage is a relationship in which one person is always right and the other is a husband.

  I decided to be supportive about the Jim-Davis Rhodes situation. For the next few weeks I was an empathetic sounding board to many of Jim’s ideas for making the retirement coach a household word. I was happy to see Jim so enthused about his career again, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that he had bragged to his boss about landing a client before the deal was set.

  There was also something niggling at me about the great Dr. Rhodes. I remembered sitting there in his kitchen with that blasted plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of me, listening to him go on and on about his re-treading strategy. He almost seemed like he was reciting from a prepared script. Not that I ever would have said that to Jim. Or, maybe—to be completely honest—I was a little jealous of Jim’s continuing infatuation with him.

  Anyway, between Jenny’s living at home and keeping an erratic schedule because of her classes, and Jim’s life revolving entirely (at least, that’s how it seemed to me) around Davis Rhodes’s availability, I began to feel like a short-order cook. We never ate meals together and talked, the way I’d fantasized we would when Jenny came home from California. Either she was leaving when Jim was coming in or vice versa. Diners passing in the night, so to speak.

  Jim became more and more obsessed with his campaign to make Davis Rhodes a media star. It was all he talked about. Then it all came crashing down, like the stock market on a very bad day.

  Four weeks had passed since our meeting with Davis Rhodes. The day started like any other; Jim dashed into the kitchen and grabbed a quick cup of coffee and a bagel to take with him to the train. I remember that it was a cinnamon raisin bagel, his favorite. It’s funny, the stupid things that stick in your mind.

  “Don’t expect me for dinner tonight,” he said over his shoulder on his way out the kitchen door. “Dave and I will be working late. I think he’s as enthused about this whole project as I am, and we’re almost through with an initial media presentation and a press kit.”

  “Jim, just one thing before you go,” I said.

  He turned around and looked at me, clearly annoyed. “Don’t make me miss my train, Carol. What is it?”

  “Well, I just wondered if Dave has given you any kind of retainer for all the work you’re doing for him? I mean, you did sign a contract with him, right?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Jim snapped. “We shook hands. That’s enough for me. You don’t understand how business is done these days. I’ll be late tonight. I’m going to Dave’s directly from the train, so don’t wait dinner for me.” He aimed a quick air kiss at my cheek and was out the door.

  I tried hard not to overreact to Jim’s words. I certainly did know how business was done these days, thank you very much. Maybe I hadn’t gained most of my professional experience in corporate America, but I knew that a handshake wasn’t necessarily a binding contract.

  I turned to the dogs and said, “Well, girls, our day isn’t starting out so great. Let’s chill out with Wake Up New England for a little while. You know how you love that show.”

  They wagged their stubby tails in agreement, and we all headed into the family room to turn on the television. I kept the volume low because Jenny was still asleep upstairs.

  I must admit I was only half-listening to the television while, multi-tasker that I am, I was sorting through a week’s worth of newspapers to put out for recycling.

  And then I heard Dan (“The Morning Man”) Smith, the show’s co- host, say, “Since January one, two thousand and six, eight thousand baby boomers are turning sixty every day. Boomers currently make up forty-six percent of this country’s work force. The oldest members of this generation will be eligible for retirement soon, precipitating what some economists have called a boomer retirement revolution. Tomorrow on Wake Up New England, join us as we meet Dr. Davis Rhodes, a retirement guru and lifestyle coach whose unique approach is guaranteed to help these potential retirees achieve complete satisfaction in the next phase of their lives.”

  I screamed. I couldn’t help it. Jim had actually done it. This time, I was glad I was wrong. What a coup! Davis Rhodes was going to be on Wake Up New England! And Jim never said a word to me about it.

  I knew My Beloved wouldn’t be in the office yet, but I just had to call and leave him a message on his voice mail. “Hi, it’s me. I am so proud of you! Congratulations on getting Davis Rhodes on Wake Up New England tomorrow. How did you do it? Why didn’t you tell me? This is so wonderful. Call me when you get a chance. I’ll be here all morning.”

  I took a quick shower and, when I was drying myself off, the phone rang. I ran to get it, wrapped in a towel, and it was Jim.

  “Carol, are you crazy?” he yelled at me. “What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t get Davis Rhodes on Wake Up New England.”

  I wrapped the towel tighter around me, trying hard not to drip on the floor. “I know what I heard,” I answered defensively. “Dan Smith announced a special feature on baby boomers and retirement that’s going to be on tomorrow’s show, and Davis Rhodes is the guest.”

  “You must have heard wrong,” Jim barked at me. “I haven’t even sent out a press release about the guy yet. You absolutely misunderstood, and it’s not the first time you’ve called me at work with some ridiculous news that turned out to be completely wrong. Are you trying to get me upset? Do you want me to lose my job? Why are you doing this to me? I have to go.” He slammed down the phone in my ear.

  I lost it. I really did. I’ve never been able to deal with it when Jim yelled at me. He was a prime example of the “Shoot the messenger first, and then ask questions” school of communication. As a result, over the past few years, I began to rely more and more on email when I had something to tell him that I suspected would make him blow his top. Sadly, I’ve learned that it’s often easier to interact with My Beloved via the computer than in person. But this time I was truly caught off guard.

  “Oh, my God,” I said. Tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn’t help it. What was going on? And how dare Jim take it out on me if Davis Rhodes was turning out to be an undependable liar and a jerk.

  Calm down, Carol. You know how Jim operates. Once he thinks this through, he’ll call back and apologize for yelling and taking out his frustrations on you. He always does, eventually. And you always, always overreact. Don’t be such a cry baby. And don’t let Jenny see you like this.

  I toweled myself dry and threw on a pair of jeans and a hooded sweat- shirt.

  What you need is to treat yourself very nicely today while this situation—which you can do absolutely nothing about—works itself out.

  Frowning, I studied myself in the bathroom mirror. In addition to my pink puffy eyes, was that some gray hair I saw peeking out around my temples? Now, that was something I could do something about, assuming I could get an appointment today at Crimpers, our local hair salon.

  I reached for the phone and, for once, I got lucky. Deanna, my favorite stylist, had just gotten a cancellation. She would work me in for a color and cut if I didn’t mind coming over right away.

  I let the dogs out for a quick run around the back yard, left a note for Jenny, and then I was on my way to get coddled, colored and pampered.

  And I deserved it.

  EIGHT

  Q: What do retirees call a long lunch?

  A: Normal.

  Perhaps there are some women out there who don’t have a special relationship with their hair stylist.
But believe me, they are few and far between.

  Hair salons are to American women what local pubs are to European men: a place to relax, laugh and talk. To take and give advice on a wide variety of subjects. A sisterhood. And, if you’re really lucky, like I am, a place to share secrets with your hair stylist while the other patrons are under the dryer and can’t hear.

  Deanna knows more about me and my life than most members of my family and some of my closest friends do. A petite brunette (this month) with spiky hair and a pale complexion, she favors ruby red lipstick and matching nail polish. She’s forever trying to lose weight—though she certainly doesn’t need to—and she can read my face and body language like an open book.

  So it was no surprise that, when I walked in the door of Crimpers that morning, she gave me a big smile and waved with her scissors, then frowned and looked at me questioningly. “What’s up with you?” she was asking me in her private shorthand.

  “Thanks for squeezing me in, Deanna,” I said brightly. “I’ll have a cup of coffee and look through the latest magazines until you’re ready for me.”

  She nodded and turned back to the client in her chair. “I’ll just be a few more minutes,” she called over her shoulder. “You can go and put on a smock now if you want to.”

  “Hi, Carol,” said my friend Mary Alice, who turned out to be the client Deanna was working on.

  Thank you, God. Mary Alice was just the right person to put things in perspective for me. I pulled up a chair beside her and immediately started to babble. “You won’t believe what’s happened. And, I swear, I never thought Jim would be so angry at me. I only called him at the office this morning because…”

  “Hi, Carol.”

  I stopped in mid-sentence and peered under the nearest dryer. Good grief. Just the person I most needed not to see, Linda Burns. But for Jenny’s sake, I was cordial. Charming, even.

  “Linda, it’s wonderful to see you,” I gushed. “I’ve been meaning to call you and thank you so much for taking Jenny under your wing at the college.”

  Mary Alice rolled her eyes at Deanna.

  Linda waved her hand dismissively. “I’m glad to do it. Jenny is a lovely girl. So bright. So determined to succeed. She reminds me a lot of myself when I was just finishing up my graduate degree and starting out. And after all, I’ve known her forever, since she was babysitting for the boys. She and I used to sit in the kitchen when I came home from teaching and talk and talk about all kinds of things. Who knows,” she added with a laugh, “maybe she wants to teach at the college level to emulate me.”

  Linda paused, then said, “I always wondered, Carol, did you graduate from college?” There it was, the famous Burns zinger. As if I didn’t have enough to be upset about today.

  I smiled at Linda and pretended I hadn’t heard her. Bitch, I thought. “Jenny couldn’t have a better role model than you, Linda,” I assured her as sincerely as I could. And I thanked my lucky stars that she had said hello to me before I unloaded the entire Davis Rhodes story onto Mary Alice and Deanna.

  Linda turned off her dryer and asked Deanna, “Do you think I’m dry now? I really have to get back to class. I have students depending on me for tutorials today.” She took off her smock and handed it to Deanna, just as the door to the salon flew open, revealing Nancy, looking like she was going to explode with excitement. She saw me and rushed over to give me a huge hug.

  “I’m so excited, I can’t stand it,” she gushed. “I’m so glad I found you. I figured you’d be here celebrating! How did Jim do it? I heard that Davis Rhodes is going to be on Wake Up New England tomorrow morning. That’s fantastic. Aren’t you thrilled?”

  I grabbed her arm and tried to propel her toward the changing room, but she was in full roll and there was no stopping her.

  “Oh, Mary Alice,” Nancy shrieked, “did you hear about Davis Rhodes, the retirement coach? Carol got Jim to go and talk to him about retirement options, and Jim took him on as a client to promote him and his book, and he’s gotten him on Wake Up New England. Everybody will see it.”

  Nancy turned and noticed Linda for the first time.

  Linda said dryly, “Oh, I doubt everyone will see the show, Nancy. Some of us have to work and don’t have time for morning television.” She turned to me. “And I, unlike other people, am much too young and have far too many important things to accomplish to think about retirement.

  “I really have to leave now, Deanna. I’ll see you in four weeks.” Linda dropped a check on the counter, spritzed her hair with a little hairspray, and walked out the door.

  Linda’s rudeness momentarily diverted me. I had actually forgotten (briefly) that Jim had absolutely nothing to do with Davis Rhodes’s television appearance tomorrow morning, as well as the fact that Jim was probably losing his job at this very minute. Or, at the very least, that he was humiliating himself in front of his boss and confessing that Rhodes had never been a real client of the agency, and now apparently never would be. And, in the process, Jim was blaming me for the entire fiasco and we would probably be divorced before the end of the year.

  “Carol,” Nancy said, shaking me by the arm. “what’s the matter with you?”

  “What’s the matter with me?” I repeated. “The matter is that you’ve made things even worse. How could you be so stupid, flying into the salon screaming about Davis Rhodes being on television tomorrow? Do you ever think before you speak?”

  Nancy looked stricken, and I felt terrible. It wasn’t her fault, not really. She had no way of knowing what was going on with Jim.

  “Nancy, I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.”

  “Hey, everybody,” Deanna suggested, “let’s calm down. I want to hear what this is all about.” She glanced around the salon, which was now blissfully quiet.

  “It’s just the four of us now, but I don’t know how long that’ll last. I have other clients coming in soon. So what is going on, Carol? I could tell something was up with you when you walked in the door.”

  “Here, Carol,” said Mary Alice, always the nurse. “You don’t look so good. Sit down. Nancy, get her a glass of ice water. Now, take some deep breaths and tell us what’s wrong. It’s more than Linda goading you, isn’t it? Aren’t you happy about this television appearance?”

  I took a sip from the glass Nancy handed me.

  “Okay,” I answered shakily. “Here goes. You know that I sort of tricked Jim into going to Davis Rhodes in the first place, and that he’s been working with Rhodes for the last few weeks on a big media campaign to promote Rhodes’s retirement strategy and his book?”

  “Of course we know, Carol.” Clearly, Nancy was getting impatient. “I helped you do it, remember? And now Jim’s gotten Rhodes on Wake Up New England. That’s fabulous.”

  “No, it’s not fabulous,” I said. “It’s terrible. I heard Dan Smith announce Rhodes’s appearance on Wake Up New England, too, and I left a message on Jim’s office voice mail to congratulate him. But Jim called me back and was livid. He accused me of deliberately misunderstanding what I heard. Jim had nothing to do with Rhodes’s television appearance to- morrow. In fact, Rhodes was never a client of the agency, although Jim lied and told everybody, including his boss, that he was. It looks like Rhodes was just stringing him along, and already had been working with another P.R. firm. Jim never got a retainer from him or signed a contract, either. He’ll probably lose his job over this.”

  Nobody said a word for a few moments. Then, my purse began to chirp. I realized it was my cell phone which, for once, I’d actually charged and turned on. I checked my caller I.D. It was Jim.

  “That’s him now,” I said. “I don’t think I can talk to him right now. I’m too upset. And I can’t take him yelling at me again.”

  “Let the voice mail pick it up,” Deanna advised. “Fortify yourself with a cup of coffee, and then play back the message.”

  The phone rang once more, and then went into my voice mail.

  “I’ll go
into the changing room to listen to Jim’s message alone,” I said. “Forget about the coffee. It’ll probably make me jumpier than I already am.”

  “I’ll make a fresh pot anyway,” Nancy offered, “in case you change your mind.”

  “And I’ll continue making Mary Alice look beautiful,” said Deanna. “Come out when you’re ready, Carol. If you don’t want to tell us what Jim said, that’s entirely up to you.”

  I closed the changing room door for some privacy, then punched in the voice mail. I noticed my hands were shaking.

  “Carol,” Jim’s disembodied voice said, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you before, but I was shocked by your call. I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to get Dave on the phone, but Sheila keeps saying he’s with a client and can’t be disturbed. I haven’t said anything around the office about this fiasco, and I’d appreciate your keeping it quiet too. You know this could mean my job. I’m going to leave work early and go directly to Dave’s office and have it out with him. I can’t believe he’d double-cross me like this. I told Sheila I’d be there by four o’clock. I’ll let you know what happens.”

  I sat down on a hamper filled with used smocks. Unfortunately, I had already told Nancy, Mary Alice and Deanna about the Jim-Davis Rhodes Wake Up New England fiasco. Another demerit for Carol and her big mouth. But I was sure I could trust them not to say anything to anyone else.

  Look on the bright side, Carol. Maybe Jim will be able to straighten things out with Rhodes. Maybe it was a simple misunderstanding.

  Maybe pigs really do fly.

  I groaned and put my head between my hands.

  I had to accept the fact this mess was in Jim’s hands, and he had to deal with it. I repeated to myself, out loud, “There is nothing you can do. There is nothing you can do. There is nothing you can do.”