Jane was obviously an action person.
In her first week on the job she called us more times than Daniel had called the whole three months he’d been on our payroll.
Sometimes she even pushed us to speed things up.
“We’re spending as fast as we can,” I laughed feebly.
Her first big coup was finding us a carpenter.
“He’s from New York,” she said. “But he’s very low-key…not your typical handyman-type. And he’s very, very good.”
I gulped. “And very, very expensive, I’m guessing.”
She laughed. “He’s worked on other houses for me and I think he’s pretty reasonable, considering the quality of his work.””
“And how do you define ‘pretty reasonable’?”
“He said he’d install your new kitchen for $3,000.”
“Okay, hire him,” I said, feeling uncharacteristically decisive. “What do we do next?”
“Nothing much,” she responded, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “Just design and order a kitchen and send it down by next week.”
We ordered the kitchen from Home Depot.
Don’t tell Daniel.
The night before we placed the order, I had a dream that we were wandering up and down the broad, cheerless aisles of a generic big-box store and actually ran into Daniel.
It was hard to say who was more embarrassed, us or him.
He had a polo sweater draped over his shoulders and was carrying a tiny, ill-tempered looking dog in his arms.
“I’m just here for the research,” he said defensively, in the same tone you’d imagine Marie Antoinette using if you caught her haggling over tchotchkes in the Paris flea market.
Clearly, I needed to erase Daniel from my memory banks forever.