I was poring over the sad case of Mr. Samuel Gonzalez, comparing his expenses with his income deficit when the phone rang. It was Mrs. Sanders inviting me to another one of her dinners. Of course, I agreed. There was nothing in my refrigerator at home, and I listened with urgent stomach rumblings while she talked about her plans for the meal.
“Would you like me to come over early, so I can help out?” I asked, chewing on one of my pencils, but thinking about the package of peanuts in the bottom drawer of my desk.
“You know we have Natalia for that, and if she needs more help, there’s always Tina or Cassandra to pitch in.”
I nodded, even though I knew Mrs. Sanders couldn’t see me. Remembering that, I reached into the drawer and pulled out the peanuts.
“Penelope, I was just thinking. . .”
“Yes?” I queried, having just ripped open the bag and spread salt and peanut mixture across poor Mr. Gonzalez’ paperwork. I popped in a couple of nuts and waited for Mrs. Sanders to continue.
“I could make an appointment for you at Caroon’s Hairstyling, if you’d like. Simone Caroon does my hair, and she’s just wonderful.”
I sighed, slurped at my diet cola, and sighed again. “Uh, Mrs. Sanders . . .”
“Judy, my dear. Mrs. Sanders sounds so stilted between friends.”
I sighed again. “Judy, I really appreciate the offer, but . . .”
“Good. Then I’ll call right this moment and see if they have an opening this afternoon. It’s important, Penelope, because I will have the most adorable and worthy gentleman sitting next to you at dinner. I know you two are going to fit perfectly.”
“Mrs. Sanders, Judy, I . . .”
But it was too late. She’d already hung up. I tried five times to call her back. I would have continued trying, but Mr. Sander’s secretary, Cassandra, came in wanting the figures concerning Mr. Gonzalez’ request for aide. I had to scurry to finish them, brush away the peanut stains that I found on one paper, and sort the file properly for Cassandra.