Recipe for a Happy Life: A Novel by Brenda Janowitz Read Free Book Online Page B

prep-school-haven’t-worked-a-day-in-his-life feel to them that I abhorred. I think that a man’s hands should feel like a man’s hands. Big, strong, masculine. Jaime’s hands were rough and calloused, more a product of playing the bass guitar than actual real-life hard work, but sexy nonetheless.
    “I think this could be a really great fit,” he said. “Hannah?”
    “I haven’t taken any of my vacation time in the last two years,” I said.
    “So, should I make a few calls?” he asked, trying to get me back on track.
    “That’s twelve weeks altogether.”
    “Yes,” Tim said. “But the Attorney General’s Office?”
    “What?” I asked.
    “I’ll give you some time to think about it,” he said before leaving. It took me the rest of the morning and most of the early afternoon to digest what Tim had said to me—the gravity of it. I was not making partner at this law firm. I’d given up the last nine years of my life to this place and now it was all over with nothing to show for it. Just like that. I couldn’t stay at the firm if I wasn’t making partner and no other firm would want me, since they would know that any ninth-year associate who is looking for a new job is only looking because she didn’t make partner at her own firm.
    By 3:30 p.m., I’d called Jaime to tell him the whole story in gory detail. I knew he’d be around—he was always around—just like any starving artist in New York would be.
    “Could you swing by my office?” I asked. “I need to talk.”
    “Those bastards,” he said. “How dare they?”
    At 4:00 p.m., I stood on the corner of Fifty-Third and Fifth with my unwashed hair waiting for my boyfriend, ready for the sympathy to pour over me as I told him again about how horrible my day was. As I stood waiting, I realized that with the drama of the day, I’d entirely forgotten to eat lunch.
    Four-fifteen and still no sign of Jaime. I figured it should only take him about thirty minutes to get from downtown to midtown, but I couldn’t wait. I was beginning to see spots before my eyes. I looked around for the closest candy store, certain that a large frozen yogurt with chocolate sprinkles would get my blood sugar under control.
    I walked down Fifth Avenue in search of a candy store, my head throbbing from hunger, but it being midtown Manhattan, I found a street vendor selling nuts first. I bought a bag of salted cashews and a bottle of water from the vendor. I practically swallowed them whole, chugging the water down with the nuts as they were still in my mouth. As the water went down my throat, I could feel my body thanking me. The spots went away and I felt stronger. I took a deep breath and looked up. Jaime was coming my way. The sight of him, of his broad shoulders, long hair, and rough hands, always put a smile on my face.
    “Hey, baby,” I said, and put my arms around him for a kiss. Not one of those “hello” peck-on-the-lips kisses, but a real kiss. A thank-God-you’re-here kiss. He gave me a heavenly kiss back and I could feel my day getting better. I pulled away and smiled at him.
    His eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out. I tried to hold on to him so he wouldn’t hit the pavement, but my five-foot-four frame was no match for all six-one of him.
    I didn’t realize he’d take the news that badly.
    I fell to my knees and put my hand to his face. He was out cold, but sweating profusely. Trying my best to remember my health class lessons from junior high school, I began to perform CPR. A crowd gathered around us and I heard people on their cell phones, calling 911. Suggestions came flying from the crowd. Give him food! Give him water! I took the water bottle I’d been drinking from and tried to pour some into his mouth, which did nothing but get his face wet.
    Just as I felt panic sinking in, I heard an ambulance come roaring down Fifth Avenue. It stopped right in front of us, blocking an entire lane of traffic. Two EMTs jumped out and carefully