Free About Face by Carole Howard Page A

population and affluence curve.
    The best thing about it, though, was that it was about the idea of authenticity. She spoke louder and faster, losing her sense of David as audience, gesturing grandly to the appliances and cabinets. David followed her with his eyes.
    â€œAuthenticity has become very important to me, like there’s no more time left for bullshit. You know what I mean by authenticity?” Standing up, she put her hands on the back of the chair, feeling the power of her own enthusiasm make her feel tall.
    â€œWell, I think it’s—”
    â€œIt’s having an ‘outside’ that matches your ‘inside.’ It’s being real. Everyone’s dying to be real, and I am too. And this will help me feel more authentic and—I don’t want to be grandiose about this—it just might help other women to feel a little more authentic too, like they don’t have to pretend to be something they’re not. Like they can just walk down the street and be who they are.” She stopped pacing, looked up at David, and added, “And I’ve got a working name for it.” She scrunched up her mouth, as if part of her wanted to keep from saying the name and going public.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI’m thinking of calling it ‘Violins & Wine.’ Because those are things that get better with age.”
    She lowered her head as she sat down. After a moment, she looked up and said, “What do you think?”
    David said it was obvious that she had a different kind of passion for this idea. More than the scarf set or the color bubble-bath or any other product he could remember. He also agreed that it was a good idea and a good name. Between the idea itself and her passion for it, he was willing to concede that she should pursue it. While he pursued retirement.
    She started to object, but he cut her off.
    â€œSurely you’re not suggesting that I work three extra years so you can pursue your ambition at Mimosa. Right?”
    â€œI guess not. No, certainly not. Not that I’d mind, though. But you’re right.”
    â€œRuthie, you’ve always said you wanted to be more of a risk-taker. So here’s your chance. You do the new idea. Be creative and innovative. Be risky. Meanwhile, I’ll take the retirement deal. We’ll start out that way and see what happens. I’ll have dinner on the table when you get home. But … no ironing.”
    She asked if he’d consider waiting until the last minute to tell the school officially, just to help her get used to the idea. He agreed to think about it.
    â€œNow,” he said, “since I worked my fingers to the bone preparing lunch, you think about your stuff and I’ll think about mine while you clean up.” Registering Ruth’s open-eyed look of surprise, he ran out of the kitchen, scooping up the newspaper on his way.

CHAPTER SEVEN
The Brain Trust Weighs In

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    ARRIVING EARLY AT RUTH’S house for the hastily-called meeting of The Brain Trust, Blanche accepted a glass of wine without any of the usual polite hesitation. She seated herself on the green leather couch directly in front of the cheese platter, arranged her amber-bead necklace so it hung symmetrically on her plush velvet top, then took a generous sip and sighed loudly.
    â€œI’m so glad you broke the rule. I don’t care what anyone says, girl, nuts and chips may be easy for the hostess but they’re not food. Cheese is food.” She moved the throw pillow at her right elbow, putting it behind her head, then flopped back onto it.
    â€œThis is the nicest part of my day so far. No customers looking for just the right pencil with just the right eraser in just the right color. No vendors insisting that chartreuse notebook paper is going to be really really big next year and I should stock up. No employees who need to change their schedule because their second cousin’s girlfriend’s