Page 56 of Cul-de-sac


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“The job at Advert-X?”

“Of course, the job at Advert-X,” he says with such conviction he almost believes it himself.

“You got the job?”

“I got the job.”

“I don’t understand. When did you find out?”

“The headhunter called while you were out shopping. She said companies normally wait till Monday to call, but they’d made up their minds and they wanted to let me know right away.”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

“I can’t believe it. This is so wonderful! But why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me go on and on about that stupid jacket?”

“Because you had every right to be angry. I did a very stupid thing. I deserved to be hauled on the carpet.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it.”

“How much are they paying you?”

“None of that’s been finalized. I’ll know more next week. But whatever it is, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about the price of jackets for a while.”

“Oh God. I’m so happy for you. For us,” Olivia tells him, taking his face in her hands. “When do you start?”

“End of the month,” he says. Surely to God, he’ll be able to find another position by then. Then he’ll explain that he and Advert-X were unable to come to terms on a number of important issues. Whatever. He’ll think of something. It isn’t important.

What’s important is that he’s bought himself some time. What’s important is that hope and admiration have replaced the look of pity and disappointment on his wife’s face. At least for the time being.

He’d rather be dead than see that look again.

Or she be.

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