With Friends Like These: A Novel by Sally Koslow Read Free Book Online Page A

could earn for twelve weeks of slave labor, the Keatons were even wealthier than I’d guessed.
    Tom had said that if I wanted him to work at Xander’s company, I’donly have to shout
go
and he’d suit up for Wall Street. I felt he was a wimp for not making the decision himself, and said as much. Taking Xander’s job was what I wanted, but I wanted him to want it, too. “I can live without the suspense,” he said.
    “Okay,” I said, drawing out the word. “I’m going with”—I looked at my plate—“option C.” For Tom to try to finish his dissertation.
    Tom’s relief was almost visible. “You’re really on board with this?”
    “Yes,” I said.
No
, I thought.
    Not for the first time, I’d voted my heart instead of my head. Since Tom’s academic effort would contribute a grand total of nothing to the family coffers, it would mean us doing without. What we’d be sacrificing, specifically, I wasn’t sure. Tom and I didn’t operate within a budget; we simply tried to economize with panache. Cabs and Broadway shows? Never. Metrocards and free nights at the Brooklyn Museum? Now you’re talking. Let me loose in a thrift shop and I can dress myself with such
je ne sais quoi
that I get assaulted by rogue fashion stylists who want to know where I found my
shmattes
, my rags. Dinners out? We invite friends over instead: ten times the work, one-fifth the cost. Stoop sales? The Fisher-Wells Olympics.
    Tom had been finishing his thesis for years, but since we’d become parents, his work had slowed, with those hours previously dedicated to research funneled into Henry. Our child was our own blue chip, but one who’d made our expenses soar. The logistics of family life make my head ache. If I weren’t working, Tom would have plenty of time to write, but we require my paycheck, the heftier one in the family, even though my job is part-time.
    Henry Thomas Wells Ph.D., would be able to teach college. “The degree is an investment,” he often says. Not exactly like buying Google in 2004, but the ticket to the kind of position Tom wants and deserves. He got up from his chair, pulled me toward him, and said thank you with his well-educated lips.
    Kissing led to more-than-kissing, and this accounted for why I slept only five hours that night. I got up in the morning, took one look at Tom,and wished I’d had the nerve to say,
Stop chasing the degree. Grab the money job. It won’t kill you to work as hard as all the other guys on the Street and take the burden off your poor wife, who—if you haven’t noticed—feels as if she’s single-handedly tugging a barge upstream
. But I am bred to try to do the right thing; I said none of this.
    A day went by, then another. Tom and I put ourselves through the monthly ritual of trying to decide which bills to pay in full and which to let slide. Agnes raised her rate. Our washing machine went on the fritz, forcing me to drag our clothes to the launderette blocks away. An old friend from college sent one of those
listen up—life is not a dress rehearsal
chain e-mails to pass on or risk dire consequences. It was falsely attributed to Maya Angelou, but creepily resonant just the same. I found more gray hairs.
    Meanwhile, the stickie scoffed at me every time I opened my tote, where it was hidden. I had almost managed to convince myself that June Rittenhouse had never called, except that as I was leaving the office one night, I picked up the phone. Again, she was asking for Chloe.
    “Oh, I’m so sorry, but Ms. Keaton’s taking personal leave,” I said. “When will she return? I honestly don’t know—she’s away because of a … family emergency.” I took a deep breath, then another. Mean Maxine growled.
Say it
. “This is Talia Fisher-Wells—the two of us share our job. May I help you?”
    June Rittenhouse gave me an appointment.

CHAPTER 4
  
Chloe

    “When you wash the baby’s laundry, please use this.” Jamyang said nothing as I raised the barbell-weight