Thursdays at Eight

Talent was cheap, Karen knew that; she ran into it everywhere. And as Jeff said, it wasn’t enough. What made the difference was drive, determination and plain old-fashioned stubbornness.

A slim strawberry blonde with her hair tied back in a ponytail came into the coffee shop and walked up to the counter, where she placed her order. Jeff’s attention drifted from Karen to the blonde. She wore navy-blue spandex and a matching sports bra, her face glistening with sweat. It was obvious that she’d recently been at the gym.

“You know her?” Karen asked.

“She’s in one of my classes, along with her sugar daddy.”

Karen stared. It couldn’t be, could it? She’d once been at the mall with Clare, meeting for lunch, when a pert blond woman, younger than Karen, had emerged from Victoria’s Secret. Clare had pointed her out. Could this be the woman Clare’s husband had dumped her for? Miranda Something? Nah. The world got smaller all the time, but it wasn’t that small. “What’s the name?” she asked.

“Miranda.”

“No kidding! What about the sugar daddy?”

Jeff frowned as he mulled over the question. “I don’t remember.”

“It isn’t Michael, is it?”

His eyes widened. “I think it might be. Yeah, I think it is. You know him?”

“Of him,” she muttered, checking out the other woman. So this was Miranda. Clare had told her a bit of the story; Liz had told her more, and over the last few months, Karen had picked up a few of the nastier details.

“He dumped his family for her.”

Jeff’s attention went back to Miranda. “She’s not bad-looking,” he said thoughtfully.

“What’s Michael like?”

Jeff frowned again. “You interested in him?”

“No.” She wanted to clobber him for being so stupid. “He was married to a friend of mine. Tell me about him.”

Jeff seemed to be at a loss. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Personality-wise he seems all right, but he’s not much of an athlete. He had trouble keeping up with the class. Must’ve dropped out because I haven’t seen him around lately.”

“But you’ve seen Miranda?”

“Oh yeah, she’s there.”

“Really?” Karen’s gaze narrowed as she studied the other woman more closely. “What do you think she sees in him?” she asked Jeff.

“The sugar daddy?” Jeff said. “What they all see. He’s got money to burn.”

Karen shook her head. “There’s got to be more than that.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I told you, it’s just that I know his ex-wife and I’m curious.”

Jeff raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Miranda’s okay, I guess. I don’t know why she hooked up with this older guy, but as far as I’m concerned, to each his—or her—own. It’s not exactly unusual, Karen. I see this sort of thing at the gym. The older men come in and hit on the younger women all the time. It’s part of life in the fast lane.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Me?” Jeff laughed. “Hey, I get more attention than I can handle. I’m happy to share the wealth.”

“I wonder where he is this afternoon.” Karen wondered aloud.

“Michael? Either she completely exhausted him and he’s still too weak to get out of bed, or he’s hard at work, keeping Miranda in the style to which she’s become accustomed.”

Karen doubted that. Clare’s attorneys had taken her ex to the car wash. If Michael Craig was hard at work, the pennies weren’t being spent on Miranda. Looking at the other woman, Karen felt a pang of something approaching pity. There had to be a real lack in this girl’s life, or she wouldn’t have hooked up with a man old enough to be her father.

January 16th

The first few times I filled in as a substitute were fun, but lately it’s gotten to be like real work. Maybe it’s because I’ve been with a group of junior-high kids all week. They wear me out fast. Makes me wonder if I was that energetic at their age.

Today I got smart. Instead of standing at the front of the class all day yelling at kids who have no intention of listening, I brought in a huge bag of mini-chocolate bars. That got their interest. Why did it take me so long to figure out that a little thing like bribery would tame the savage beasts? (Yes, I know I’m misquoting!)

Mom phoned. It’s the first I’ve heard from her since Christmas. She wants to take me to lunch on Saturday. I agreed before I learned that Victoria was coming, too. Mom did that on purpose. She knows how I feel about Victoria. We don’t get along. Why should we, seeing that we don’t have a thing in common? Mom dotes on her precious Victoria. My entire childhood, I was treated like an outcast because I wasn’t like my perfect-in-every-way older sister. Apparently, all that’s changed since I started teaching. Now that I’m respectably employed (even if it’s only part-time) Mom’s free to brag about me to her friends, too.

As soon as I learned Victoria would be at lunch, I should’ve found an excuse to get out of it, especially when Mother told me we’d be going to the Yacht Club. But with my current cash-flow difficulties, I’m not above accepting a free lunch.

Jeff’s been interesting lately. He seems to be fired up about acting again and asked if I’d recommend my agent. I was happy to pass on Gwen’s phone number and apparently they’re talking. I don’t know if she’ll take him on or not; that’s not my decision. Jeff took me to dinner to thank me. There’s a great Mexican place close to the gym. It was good to see him and talk shop, to recharge my own enthusiasm. Focus, that’s what it’s all about. No one else is going to do this for me.

I’m still bummed about not getting the toilet-brush commercial, but Gwen said the feedback from the director was positive. She’s planning to send me for another audition with the same guy, although she warned me this next one involves a dog. She didn’t say what kind, and asked if I liked puppies. Who doesn’t? But let’s not forget what W. C. Fields said about working with kids and dogs…Anyway, the director liked me, but didn’t think I was right for the role of fastidious housewife. I guess he must’ve taken a look at my apartment. Cleanliness and order aren’t exactly my forte. If God had meant women to do housework, He wouldn’t have created men first.

Chapter Four

JULIA MURCHISON

“Parenthood: that state of being better chaperoned than you were before marriage.”

—Madeline Cox

January 1st

This leather-bound journal is a Christmas gift from my husband and I’ve been waiting until today to make my first entry. My hope is that every morning I’ll be filling the crisp, clean pages, writing out my thoughts, my concerns, my doubts, discovering who I am, one day at a time. That’s something I learned in the journal class, along with a whole lot more. Taking that class was one of the best things I’ve done for myself in ages.

It’s funny—here I am waxing poetic about this lovely journal that I’ve been waiting all week to start, and now that I have, I don’t know what to write.

I’ll begin with the kids, I guess. Adam and Zoe are growing up before my very eyes. It seems like only yesterday that they were babies. Now they’re both in their teens, and before Peter and I know it, they’ll be in college. It doesn’t seem possible that Adam will be driving this year! He’s champing at the bit to get behind the wheel. He’s ready, but I’m not sure Peter and I are.

Zoe at thirteen is turning into a real beauty. I look at her, so innocent and lovely, and can hardly believe my baby is already a young woman.

The Wool Station is a year old now. I’ve always loved crafts, and opening my own small knit shop was a risky venture. I thought about it for quite a while before making the commitment. Peter’s encouragement was all I really needed and he gave it to me. The store’s been wonderful for us both, bringing us together. And business has been good. The recent articles about all the celebrities knitting these days certainly didn’t hurt! More and more women are looking for ways to express themselves creatively; as well, knitting can calm and relax you—as effectively as meditation, according to one magazine I read.

Last year my shop brought in thirty-two percent more than my projected gross income. (Peter’s calculations, not mine. I’m hopeless with numbers.) At this point, we’re putting all the profit back into the business, boosting the inventory at every opportunity. I’m not making enough of a profit to draw a salary yet, but it won’t be long. A year, two at the most. I just wish I was feeling better physically. Lately—ever since the flu bug hit me before Thanksgiving—I’ve been under the weather. I didn’t bounce back nearly as fast as I thought I would. Being thrust into the holiday season right afterward wasn’t any help. I barely had a week to regroup when it was time for the big yarn sale. Then the shop was crazy all through December. Added to that were the usual Christmas obligations—buying gifts, wrapping them, sending cards, entertaining, etc. When I think about everything I’ve had to do, it’s no wonder I haven’t been feeling well.

Peter’s mother flew in for Christmas Day. She had a meeting in the area and combined business with pleasure. I’m writing this with my teeth gritted. I don’t enjoy dealing with my mother-in-law, who in my opinion never should have been a mother. She’s cold and self-important and all she seems to care about is her career and her volunteer projects. Naturally, I’m grateful she had Peter, otherwise I wouldn’t have my husband, but I swear the woman doesn’t possess a single maternal instinct. Peter was left with a succession of nannies and baby-sitters most of his childhood while his mother climbed the corporate ladder and sat on one volunteer board after another. I don’t disparage her commitment, just where it’s been directed for the past forty years. It irks me no end that she can fly halfway across the United States for her causes, but practically ignores her only son and her grandchildren. Okay, enough. I’ve already written copious pages about my relationship with my mother-in-law.

Onto a far more pleasant subject, and that’s the Thursday Morning Breakfast Club. We’re each supposed to choose a word for the year. I’ve been giving it some thought, but my mind was made up almost from the minute Liz mentioned the idea. I wanted to wait to be sure this is truly my word. Experience tells me my first instinct is often the best. Still, I’ve taken this week between Christmas and New Years to mull it over, and I think I’m going to go with GRATITUDE.