The Promotion

Rose sat at the table reading Wilkie Collins. She wore white jeans, a white T-shirt, and white canvas sneakers. She was reading THE WOMAN IN WHITE for a book group.

Ben staggered into the kitchen at 8:30. Good morning, he croaked, reaching for the coffee.

Morning.

He stuck two slices of bread into the toaster and studied her. Nice casual outfit. Shouldn’t you be at work?

I called in sick, she said coolly.

I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?

You know what’s wrong.

No, I don’t, he said firmly.

We’ve got to talk. You’re not spending time with me anymore. It’s gotten absurd. Where were you this weekend?

He sighed. Work.

Don’t give me that. You never used to work on weekends.

He sipped his coffee. Look, I’ll free up my schedule. We’ll go away next weekend.

Thank you, she said. That would be nice.

There was no point in confrontation. Ben was...Ben. A brash New Yorker transplanted to a small city. Exasperating but charming. Look at the way he had seduced her. He had nothing but time for her when they were getting to know each other. Now he was never around. He loved her (sort of), but she was just his wife. Always there, no special effort required.

After he left the house, she relaxed. She put on a sweater and sat in a chair in the back yard. Absorbed in Wilkie Collins, she forgot the annoyances of the weekend. She made a few notes in a notebook so she would have something to say at the book group. She always enjoyed taking notes. There was no Ben. There was no Christine. There was only her book and the occasional chirping of crickets.

Then the phone rang. She ran into the house and picked up. Hello?

Rose, this is Kent. I heard you’re feeling ill, but I wanted to give you some good news.

Oh, hello, she said. Yes, I seem to have caught a bug. I’ll be in tomorrow or the next day.

Well, I have some news for you. I’m promoting you. You’ll be in charge of the Glen area group. You’ll be the chief architect on the office complex and five other projects in Glen.

Rose paused. The last she had heard, her office-mate had been the chief architect on the projects near the nuclear power plant in Glen. What had happened?

I’m very flattered, Kent, she said. Er, I just want to know... isn’t that Brenda’s project?

Brenda is no longer with us, he said cheerfully. She’s accepted an offer from another firm. And of course I’ve always been impressed with your work. I’m giving you a $200 monthly raise.

Oh, thank you. Well, I’m very excited, of course. Thank you for calling me at home.

When she got off the phone, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. $200 a month! So that was the price of services for designing buildings near a nuclear power plant. She didn’t want it.

Maybe she could design a building in the shape of a nuclear reactor as a warning?

She thought hard. She decided to call Brenda. Brenda, who was subject to panic attacks, had often called her at home.

For the first time in the history of their friendship, Brenda sounded jolly. Yeah, I thought I’d scraped bottom when I landed the lousy Glen account so I applied for another job.

What am I going to do now? Rose asked. Can I turn down a promotion?

Not unless you want to kill your career. No, you have to accept graciously and just apply for another job.

Well, I hope you’ll stay in touch, Rose said. Would you like to join my book group? Then I could see you once a month.

Why not? said Brenda glibly. Maybe it would upgrade my reading. The last book I read was a chick-lit romance thing. You know: smart divorced middle-aged architect makes it with a sexy oil man who gives up his career to research alternative energy sources. Oh, wait. That’s the one I’m writing!

They both giggled. Maybe we could write it together, Rose said. Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll face the office without you.

You’ll do fine. Just put lots of ugly sculpture in front of the buildings so people will be put off and really, really not want to spend time there. Put lots of those DANGER: NUCLEAR WASTE symbols around.

Will do, Rose said.