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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.”
    “