The Marriage List (2 page)

"Jenna! You know what I mean."

"Andrews family bachelor is thinking about
settling down. That is news."

"It's not a joke," he complained, refilling
their wine glasses.

"I'm sorry, Grey. I know it isn't. Lord knows
you're not getting any younger…seriously, I'm glad to hear it."

The waitress arrived with their food.

"I need help here, some guidance," Grey said
before putting a forkful of sole Meniere in his mouth.

"Let's begin with the way I solve almost
every problem in my life…with a list," she said, digging in her
purse for a pen.

"I'm not into lists…it's a girl thing."

"Do you want my help or not?" She pulled a
small pad of paper out of her purse.

He nodded, then waved his hand for her to
continue.

"Okay. Three guys. Three frustrated husbands.
Three wifely flaws. First one?" She asked cutting off a piece of
chicken cordon bleu.

"Bobby complained that his gorgeous,
sexy-as-hell wife wouldn't listen to him. She thought his legal
work was boring. I want to be able to talk to my wife about
whatever business I'm in, whether she has big boobs or not," he
said, breaking into a grin.

Jenna gave him a stern look.

"Number one, she should be smart. Able to
talk and listen," Jenna said, writing, "next?'

"Will said his wife is spending all his money
on decorators and cooks yet he doesn't have a house he feels
comfortable in. The guy holes up in a den, smallest room in his
giant house, because Vicky's decorated the whole house in white and
it gets dirty…or something like that."

"Translating Will's problem into a wish…for
your wish list."

"Not a
wish
list. This is a
'must-have'
list," Grey said, taking a hefty portion of sole
on his fork.

"All right, so how do you translate Will's
dilemma into a quality you want?" Jenna took the opportunity to
have another bite of her dinner.

"Hmmm. Not so easy."

"A homemaker?"

"Sort of. I'm not looking for Betty Crocker
here…someone who can manage a household, I guess…and create a nice,
comfortable home for me, since I'm pretty stupid at that. And who
can cook herself. I don't want to hire a decorator or a cook. Does
that make sense?" He asked.

"A woman who can decorate a house, make it
comfortable, right? Not a showplace, without bankrupting you and
can cook a decent meal," Jenna said, scribbling on the pad.

Grey nodded his head in agreement.

"The third thing…Spence?" Jenna asked.

"This one is important. No begging for sex,"
Grey finished the last bit on his plate.

"Sexually compatible, right?"

"More than that."

"How so?"

"She's gotta want it as much as I do. I don't
want a woman who turns her head to the side and says, 'okay, go
ahead', I want one who is eager for it…for me…who wants…I can't
discuss this with you, Jenna," Grey said, picking up his wine glass
to hide his blush.

"Write this last one yourself. I'm putting
down sexually compatible, whatever that means to you. Please
don't
explain it to me. Okay?" Jenna asked, tearing a sheet
of paper from the pad.

He smiled a wicked grin and nodded in
agreement with her.

"Here is your list. Memorize it. Every time
you go out with a woman, you look for these three things," Jenna
advised, stuffing the paper in his breast pocket.

"What about honesty? Sense of humor? Looks?"
He raised his eyebrows.

"Those are important traits, especially the
first two. I assume everyone has to have those to get to the second
date with you anyway. The list is for more than two or three dates.
Use it when you consider spending a lot of time with a woman.
That's when the list kicks in. I gotta go," she said, looking at
her watch.

"No dessert?"

"Not if I want to get into the size eight
wedding dress I bought today."

"Thank you, Jenna," he said, kissing his
sister on the cheek.

"You may think it's silly but women make
lists…all women have a list they use on men, too, a list just like
yours. Use it, Grey. I hope it helps you find the woman you're
looking for."

"Me, too," he said, dropping some bills on
the table and walking out of the restaurant with his sister.

****

Grey and Jenna kept the list to themselves.
They never spoke about it to friends or family and rarely discussed
it with each other. As time went by, Grey found he valued the list
more and more, as it seemed to save him from one bad relationship
after another. He never got in too deep when he remembered the list
and found a woman wanting in any of the characteristics on it. He
felt grateful to the list for saving him from a broken heart or an
unhappy marriage.

Neither Jenna nor Grey imagined such a small
list could eliminate so many women. Grey intensified his search but
after three years found he still didn't have a wife, fiancée or
even a woman with serious potential. He was lonely and frustrated,
racking up financial gain with no one to share his good
fortune.

He refused to abandon the list which became
imprinted on his brain, the little piece of paper long discarded.
He still believed it would lead him to his true love, but after
searching for what he considered a long time, this patient man was
finally growing impatient.

Chapter Two

Uptown on Madison Avenue, Carrie Tucker
walked quickly down the long hall from her tiny office at Goodhue,
Walker and Beane Advertising to Mr. Goodhue's office. She
unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, tossed her streaked
blonde hair, made a face and buttoned up the lowest one again.

Called in to see Mr. Goodhue usually meant
one of two things: promoted or fired. She had received praise for
her work as a junior copywriter for two years, which lead to her
promotion to copywriter. After two more years as a copywriter, was
she going to be promoted to senior copywriter or get fired? Her
nerves made her sweat, she felt dampness under her arms. As Carrie
rounded the corner past the reception area, she unbuttoned again
and kept walking.

As she neared his office she mumbled to
herself, "This isn't a beauty contest," and buttoned up again, just
in time to stop in front of Mr. Goodhue's secretary.

"Good morning, Wanda," Carrie said, training
her clear blue eyes on the young woman.

"Hi, Carrie. He's waiting for you, go in,"
the chubby, brunette with the biggest, bluest eyes she'd ever seen
said.

Carrie took a deep breath and walked in.

"Carrie, sit down," Nathan Goodhue, graying
at the temples, dressed in a perfectly tailored custom-made Italian
charcoal gray suit, motioned her to a chair. He sported the white
shirt and red tie that senior management was often required to
wear, company colors.

She took a seat and tried, unsuccessfully, to
smile.

"Something wrong?" he asked, looking down at
her from his full six feet two inches.

She shook her head, crossed and uncrossed her
legs.

"You're not afraid of me, are you?" He asked,
trying to hide a grin.

"Are you going to fire me, Mr. Goodhue?"
Carrie blurted out.

"Goodness, no!" He laughed and sat down
behind his desk.

Leaning forward, he eyed the beautiful young
woman, took a sip of coffee from the Limoges china cup on his desk,
and cleared his throat.

"You've done an excellent job her at HWB. I
want to thank you by giving you a chance to show your stuff,"
Goodhue said then leaned back in his chair.

A sigh of relief escaped from Carrie, then
she waited for him to continue.

"You know that the fastest way to become a
creative director here is to bring in new business."

She nodded.

"I'm giving you a shot at it by putting you
on the new business team."

"New business team?"

"In addition to working on the Country Lane
Cosmetics account, you will now be working with Gus and Joanne on
new business pitches."

"That's a lot of extra work isn't it?" Carrie
crossed her legs.

"It does entail some nights and weekends, but
I understood you wanted the fast track. You
do
want to be
our first female creative director, don't you?" Goodhue sat back
and clasped his hands behind his head.

"Well, I had hoped…"

"This is the way to get there…the only way.
All our creative directors have been instrumental in bringing in an
important piece of business. Then they run it."

"It's kind of like doing another job at the
same time, isn't it?" Her grip on her cup tightened.

"It's more work, but you don't become a
creative director without doing more than others. Creative
directors must show stamina as well as spark and talent. Are you
hungry enough? If you are…if you want it, you won't have a problem
with a little extra work." He stood up and returned his cup to the
credenza.

"But I understand it's much more…"

"Have a boyfriend who will object?" He turned
his head and spoke to her over his shoulder as he refilled his
cup.

Carrie shook her head.

"So what's the problem? I know three other
copywriters who would give their right arm for this chance. You
have more talent than they do. That's why you're getting this
opportunity, first, Carrie. Take the ball and run with it." Goodhue
returned to his desk and flipped up the screen on his computer and
opened his calendar.

The interview was obviously over. Carrie was
stunned. She stood up, realizing she was expected to leave. "Thank
you, Mr. Goodhue, for the vote of confidence."

"You're welcome. You've earned it, my dear.
Now prove me right," he said, lifting his head up to speak with her
then returning his gaze to his screen again.

Carrie walked out of his office, pasted a
small smile on her face for Wanda, and continued down the hall.
When she got to her office, she closed the door and plopped down
into her desk chair.

Great, more work but no more money! Some
honor. Be honored to have no social life. Still, I could become the
first female creative director at GWB, something I've been working
toward for the past seven years.

Carrie wondered how much more work would be
involved. She had watched other copywriters burn out trying to keep
up their regular workload and create brilliant new business pitches
at the same time. Many quit when the pitches didn't produce the big
accounts they dreamed of. Now she would be in the hot seat.
It's
an honor to be chosen, isn't it?

Her thoughts were interrupted when a pretty,
well-dressed, dark-haired woman stopped at her doorway.

"Lunch?" she said.

"Big news today," Carrie said, smiling up at
Rosie Carrera, Assistant Production Manager.

"Give!" Rosie said, entering the office and
closing the door behind her.

"Mr. Goodhue just asked me to join the new
business team." Carrie leaned back in her chair and rested her feet
on her wastepaper basket.

"I hope you told him 'no', right?" She said,
sinking into a modern chair across from Carrie's desk.

"You don't turn down Mr. Goodhue. Come on."
She sat up straight in her chair.

"He's the big cheese. But you don't want to
do it, do you?"

"I want to be a creative director…so I guess
I have to do this."

"I thought you wanted to write?" Rosie asked,
raising an eyebrow.

"This is writing."

"I mean more than advertising stuff…real
writing."

"This is real writing," Carrie said, leaning
back in her chair.

"I mean…I mean fiction."

"That's my true love, but I can't support
myself on that and Prince Charming isn't scheduled to stop at my
house anytime soon, so I'm on my own."

Carrie didn't want Rosie to know she had
finished a novel, a mystery, she'd written in the evenings and on
weekends when she was between boyfriends.

"You give up too easily on men."

"Do I? Is there one self-centered creep left
in New York I haven't gone out with yet?" Carrie scoffed, taking a
sip of her coffee then making a face when she realized it was
cold.

Rosie laughed, "Probably not."

"You took the last old-fashioned Prince
Charming, Rosie and the rest of us are jealous," Carrie said,
grinning at her friend.

Rosie blushed. "Yes, Eduardo is my Prince
Charming. But I still have to work…just for a little while
longer."

"Then you can quit and have a baby," Carrie
said, diverting her gaze out her nineteenth story window to the
sky.

"You'll have that dream someday, too,
Carrie."

"Glad you think so. I've given up."

"Given up? You're only twenty-nine…crap!"
Rosie scoffed.

Gus Parker opened Carrie's office door and
stuck his head in. "New business meeting in ten minutes,
Carrie…small conference room."

He was gone as quickly as he'd come.

"So much for peace and quiet…and lunch
today," Rosie said, getting up.

"So it begins," Carrie said, standing up and
stretching her arms above her head.

"Enjoy this roller coaster ride, you asked
for it," Rosie said smoothing out the wrinkles of her skirt before
heading back to her office.

"I did, didn't I?" Carrie said, rummaging
around her desk.

After Rosie left, Carrie pulled out a fresh
notebook from under a pile of papers, tucked it under her arm. She
twirled a pen between her fingers as she walked down the hall.
Getting the chance you've been dreaming of can backfire. What if
I'm not good enough?
She chewed on the end of the pen as she
approached the small conference room.

Chapter Three

Her palms were sweaty, her heart was beating
rapidly and her mouth went dry. Carrie was about to face her first
pitch on her mystery book to an editor and she was scared, scared
shitless. She entered the small room set aside from the rest of the
writer's conference for editors to meet with writers. A short man
in shirtsleeves and wearing non-descript, brown horned-rim glasses
sat behind a desk.
He must be Paul Marcel, editor for Rocky
Cliffs Press.