License to Shop (5 page)

“
Not a problem,” I said,
realizing for the first time that I wouldn’t have known what to do
with the puppy while I was at lunch.

“
Thanks!”

“
See you tomorrow.” I
decided to save the puppy story for tomorrow, at lunch. It would be
good for a laugh by then. I hoped.

The puppy came with me to school to pick up the
kids. Anna loved the puppy, as expected. Ryan tried to play it
cool, but I caught him bending down for a puppy kiss when he
thought I wasn’t looking.

Homework was forgotten as
they took turns carrying the puppy and all her gear into the house,
finding the perfect place for her bowls, filling them, watching her
eat, laughing when she peed on the floor. Taking her outside when
it was clear she needed to poop.

I watched the three of
them in the backyard, realizing exactly how much a puppy would
change our lives. Mine most of all.

I had a busy week
scheduled: besides the rescheduled lunch with Celeste, I had three
shops a day every day, all of them outside the house. I was
chaperoning Anna’s field trip to the space museum to study the
ecology of the ocean. Plus time out for PTA committee meetings. Not
to mention the makeup interview with Dr. Stubbs. And, if I passed
on to the finalist category, another interview after
that.

The puppy shouldn’t really
be left alone, the girl at the store had stressed that when she
gave me my puppy bootcamp lecture.

But I had places to go.
People to see. Children to mother. A field trip to chaperone. Not
to mention, if I actually managed to convince Dr. Stubbs to hire
me, a real job to go to all day, every day. A puppy just did not
fit into the plans at all.

There was only one
solution. I picked up my phone and texted my best friend Deb. Can
we meet early tonight, before the PTA meeting? Am
desperate.

See you at 7:40. Deb
wasn’t one to waste words. I knew my request had put her schedule
out of whack, but I suppressed my twinge of guilt. She was a cop
and a single mom, and she chose to serve on PTA committees. If she
needed to pay a babysitter a little bit more tonight, that was part
of the single mommy game.

I sighed, and texted back.
Seth can watch Sarah. Want to come over for dinner
first?

Duh.

I had to smile. Deb was
one of the few people I let come into my perpetually messy house,
usually only as far as the kitchen, though. Whenever she came for
dinner, she acted like my cooking rated 5 stars from Michelin.
Considering the reactions of the rest of my family, I would take
the overreaction as my due, one mom to another.

As I took out the noodles
and sauce for lasagna, Deb’s favorite, I realized I was going to
have to explain both a puppy, and extra babysitting duties, to
Seth. I dug in the cabinet and found my emergency hot fudge sauce.
I had half a tub of vanilla ice cream, and a full container of
almond milk. Surely I could search for a way to whip up almond milk
and make Seth his favorite hot fudge sundae, and make everyone
happy tonight.

Just as I was feeling my
most confident, I noticed that I had two phone messages, on the
home answering machine. I pressed the button to listen, hoping for
telemarketer prattle that could be easily deleted with one press of
the button.

No such luck. Each of the
messages, alone, would have been enough to blow the competent
feeling I’d had into smithereens, but both made me sit down with a
glass of wine and a spoonful of cold hot fudge sauce.

I replayed the first
message twice. My mother’s voice sounded bright and cheery, “Just
calling to say I’ll be coming into town on Thursday for a
presentation at your darling little library. I thought I’d stay the
weekend and have some fun with my grandchildren.” This from a woman
who hadn’t had fun with her children because she’d been so busy
building her interior decorating business into an empire worthy of
Martha Stewart. No. She wanted a free room. And she wanted it dust
free, with clean linens and no sticky-fingered wake-up calls from
grandchildren who still didn’t understand why Grandma Lillian was
so grumpy before ten in the morning.

That was bad enough. But
listening to the second call made my heartbeat rise up into my
throat. “Molly, I’m taking the first step on the path to get that
Assistant Dean position. You’ll be proud of me. I invited the Dean,
and a few colleagues, for dinner. Friday night.” Yes, I was so
proud of him, for taking the step.

I was not so proud of him
taking the step without asking me first. I knew it was part of his
campaign to win the promotion, and I had promised to be supportive.
But still. Didn’t he know how much we had to do before we could
invite people into our home?

Would it be unsupportive
to suggest that we take the Dean—and the various unnamed
colleagues—out to dinner? I knew the answer. Yes. Seth had to prove
he had what it took to get the promotion—and that meant a wife who
could entertain with little to no advance notice. Faculty wife
training 101. I’d skipped it so far, and kept my fingers crossed
that times would change even faster. Ten years ago would have
required a bimonthly dinner party with fancy china. Twenty years
ago would have required white gloves and a chic hat. Where was our
fancy china, anyway?

I looked at Anna and Ryan,
who had found an old tennis ball and were throwing it to the eager
puppy. It occurred to me then that my mother hated dogs. I dug out
another spoonful of cold hot fudge sauce and started making the
lasagna. Maybe Deb would let me, and the puppy, move in with her
for the weekend.

CHAPTER FOUR

No Puppy Does it Better

I did a quick walk-through the house while dinner
cooked and I waited for Seth to come home.

Every room was a disaster.
It would take me all week to clean. I didn’t know who I worried
about more — the colleagues Seth had invited, or my mother. No, I
knew. Hands down, I was much more worried about my mother’s
reaction to my housekeeping. Hers was, and always had been,
perfect. Better Homes & Gardens perfect. Martha Stewart
perfect. Kids Keep Out perfect.

I thought about the
cleaning and shopping I would need to add to the week. I already
had a grocery shop scheduled, which meant I could get reimbursed
for party food, points to me.

I could find someone else
to chaperone the field trip. Maybe. But I didn’t want to. Field
trips are a point of honor with me. I hate them. But supermom
status requires signing up to chaperone, just as it requires
serving as chair on at least one and preferably three PTA
committees. I’m not sure which could be categorized as worse—being
trapped on a bus for hours with the various loodle loo and bingle
bing of Game Boy games in play, or being trapped for hours with
grown women willing to fight to the death over whether brownies or
tofu cake squares are a bigger indication of the impending end of
the world.

I heard Seth come in and I
pictured his surprise to see no one in the kitchen. Usually dinner
was started, if not almost ready, by this point. “Where is
everyone?” he called.

“
In here,” I said. I
thought of a dozen other things I might say to prepare him for the
sight that was about to meet his eyes, but they all tangled
together and I ended up waiting silently for him to catch sight of
our newest family member.

“
What’s that?”

“
A puppy.”

“
Did Norma’s dog have
puppies? Molly, we can’t—”

“
No. Norma is a
responsible dog owner, her animal is spayed.”

He looked at me, waiting
for me to spit out the truth. But all the words were jammed in
behind my tongue and I couldn’t get them out. Finally, he asked,
“So. Are you watching it for a friend?”

“
You know the Director of
Admission, the one I interviewed with?”

“
Yes.” He humored me,
bewilderment written on his face.

“
Her dog had unauthorized
puppies.”

His eyes widened. “So you
took one?”

“
Just one. She started out
with five.” Even I didn’t think that sounded all too terribly
convincing.

He picked up the puppy and
cuddled it expertly. He was definitely a dog person. There was
definitely bonding going on. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing
or a bad thing.

He looked at me. “Do you
have any idea how expensive a puppy is?”

I pointed to the bowls,
and the toys. “Yes.”

“
I’m glad you’re going
back to work, then. The only thing worse than a new puppy is a new
baby.”

It was my turn to be
bewildered. I had expected him to insist the dog must go. To find
someone to take it in. Someone kind, with a big yard. But…he was
okay with keeping it? Was he crazy? Or maybe he was just busy
thinking who would make a good puppy owner among his colleagues and
grad students. I crossed my fingers and toes that was what he was
thinking.

Just then, Deb and Sarah
arrived, and everyone got busy admiring the puppy until I announced
it was time for dinner.

I had forgotten to warn
Seth that Sarah was staying while Deb and I went to the PTA
meeting. I got him aside and whispered it to him.

Before he could say
anything, I smiled and said — “You owe me. Not only do I have a
field trip, but the dinner to get ready for.”

And then, while he was off
balance, I dealt the last blow. “My mom is coming Thursday night,
by the way. She’s planning to visit for the weekend.”

And then I gathered up Deb
and left for the PTA meeting before he could recover enough to say
a word. I’d heard that small animals could help people stay calm. I
could only hope the puppy worked her magic on Seth while I was
gone.

On the drive to the school, Deb listened, without
saying a word, to me vent about my coming week.

When I was finished
venting, she let a beat of silence precede her single pearl of
wisdom. “You need to get rid of the puppy, Molly.”

“
I know. But the kids
already love her.”

“
They haven’t named her,
right?”

“
Not yet.” The thought of
taking the puppy away from my family made me panic. “You have a
dog, even with your busy life.”

“
You know I love my dog,
right?”

“
Yes.”

“
She makes life so hard,
though. Your puppy will do the same for you, especially if you get
this Admissions job. Get rid of her before the kids give her a
name.”

I briefly considered
taking her back to Kecia when I went for my rescheduled interview.
I pictured Dr. Henriette Stubbs’ face. If I did, then I wouldn’t
have to worry about getting the job. If I didn’t get the job,
ironically, I would have time for a puppy. Catch-22, Occam’s Razor,
flip-a-coin time. “I don’t want to bring the dog to a
shelter.”

“
Maybe Norma will take
her. Norma loves animals?”

“
Maybe.” Norma had two
dogs and three cats already. She really liked animals. And
children.

“
I should probably ditch
the field trip.”

“
If you do, you’ll be on
the teachers’ hit list for at least a year.”

“
I know. I
know.”

We got into the meeting a
little early. I snagged Norma right as she was writing pertinent
info on the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. “Hi Norma. I
need advice.”

She didn’t stop writing,
but her smile and her voice were warm. “What can I do you for,
Molly?”

“
I accidentally adopted a
puppy today, and I’m not sure it was wise. What’s the best way to
find a new home without traumatizing Ryan and Anna?”

Norma stopped writing and
turned toward me. “Ah, those accidental puppies. I know a thing or
three about them. I’m sorry to tell you it is too late. You are now
a puppy mom.”

Norma was sympathetic, and
loaded me up with advice on how to care for the puppy, but she was
definitely not in the market for a new puppy. As we talked, I saw
the new mom, my job competition, walk in the door. I gave her a
weak grin and stopped talking about how to get rid of a puppy. Who
knew if she’d snitch on me to Henriette Stubbs.

Bianca, the PTA president,
strode to the front of the classroom and examined Norma’s board
work before she nodded, and clapped her gavel on the table three
times. We all stopped talking and turned our attention to her.
Bianca had that effect on everyone. I envied her ability to arrange
the world to her own liking without fuss or muss, I wished I could
do it even a tenth as well.

We rolled through the
meeting, giving reports, taking assignments, looking at the clock,
hoping to be done early.

And then, right at New
Business, Bianca looked at me, without her usual contempt. “Molly,”
she said with a smile. A genuine smile. “I hear your mother will be
speaking at the library on Thursday.”

“
Yes.”

“
Any chance you might
persuade her to do a presentation for the PTA decorations group on
Saturday?”