why didn’t you say no?’
‘Midge, he’s my boss.’
‘But this is our home,’ she said. ‘And I’m making artichokes.’
‘That’s okay. You make your artichokes. I want you to make them.’
‘They’re for us. Not just me.’
The doorbell rang.
‘I’ll get it,’ he said. ‘You keep doing what you’re doing.’
‘Hello, hello, hello,’ said Dan when Pulpy let him and Beatrice in. He stepped forward and set a large plastic bag down by the coat tree.
‘Hi, Dan. Hi, Beatrice,’ said Pulpy.
‘Hello there, Midge!’ said Dan in a loud voice. ‘What are you doing so far away?’
‘Hi, Dan. Hi, Beatrice.’ Midge nodded from over by the stove. ‘I’m making artichokes.’
‘Mmm, artichokes!’ said Beatrice.
‘I only have two,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Pulpy said to his boss and his boss’s wife. ‘We haven’t eaten dinner yet.’
‘That’s okay,’ said Dan. ‘Beatrice and I had some dip. What kind was it again, honey?’
‘Greek,’ she said.
‘That’s right, Greek. Delicious.’
‘I think Pulpy got dip all over his pants!’ said Beatrice.
Pulpy looked over at Midge. ‘It’s a stain from lunch,’ he said. ‘Please won’t you come in?’
‘I think we will.’ Dan stepped onto the carpet runner. ‘Ho-ho! Rolling out the plastic carpet for the VIPs, eh?’
‘It’s a runner,’ said Pulpy. ‘Because of the winter.’
‘Take off your boots, Dan,’ said Beatrice.
‘All right, all right.’ Dan took off his boots. ‘Aren’t you going to take off your shoes?’
‘My shoes are part of my outfit.’ She flexed one of her feet in their sharp-looking high heels. ‘Pulpy doesn’t mind, do you, Pulpy?’
‘No, that’s fine. Please make yourselves comfortable.’
‘This couch of yours looks very nice indeed,’ said Dan, and sat down.
‘It does.’ Beatrice sat down beside him. ‘This whole place is just so cute!’
‘Cute indeed,’ said Dan, in Midge’s direction.
‘Won’t you join us, Midge?’ said Beatrice.
‘I have to cook.’
‘Oh, that’s right. Well, you go right ahead. We’ll just sit here and pick your handsome husband’s handsome brains.’
Midge rattled the lid on the pot.
‘Smells good!’ said Dan.
‘It’s only boiling water,’ she said.
Pulpy put his hands on his knees.
‘Well,’ said Dan, ‘Beatrice’s boiling water never smells that good!’
Beatrice slapped his arm and smiled at Midge. ‘There’s something different about you, Midge. Did you get your hair cut?’
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