Slapped!

When a waitress mercifully interrupted their forced chitchat, Hollings ordered a Malibu chicken sandwich and a cup of hot chocolate and Jessica a chef’s salad and “Moons Over My Hammy,” a ham and scrambled egg sandwich on sourdough. (In the wonderful world of Denny’s, bad puns passed for creativity.) Henderson said he was fine with ice water. Once the waitress left the table, Hollings turned to the women. “We wanted to have this talk to ask if there isn’t a way we can all work together to solve this community issue to our mutual satisfaction.” “Well, Judge Hollings—” Julie said. “No, please,” Hollings interrupted. “Call me Marc.” “Well …” She paused. “ … Marc, let’s look at it this way: if the changes in the zoning and the master plan don’t go through, then there might be something for us to talk about.” Julie glanced at Jessica, who, after a moment’s hesitation, nodded her assent. “Oh, the amendment to the master plan will go through,” Hollings deadpanned. Henderson seemed visibly irritated by the interjection but didn’t contradict his partner’s assertion. There was a brief pause as this news was absorbed and processed. “We have a different opinion about the likely outcome,” Julie said. “But for argument’s sake, say you turn out to be right about that. If the project is finally built on the riverbanks, wouldn’t a different kind of architecture with native materials be more compatible with the surroundings? Not so much glass and concrete.” “Yea, how about something more like the San Antonio River Walk or The Hotel Hershey in Hershey, Pennsylvania?” Jessica suggested. Both men looked dumbstruck. How could housewives, their expressions seemed to say, imply that they had the expertise to evaluate the aesthetic choices of professionals? “We already have a team in place to make those decisions,” Hollings said. “Judge Hollings …” Jessica said. He raised his hand to protest her form of address, but she waved him off. “Judge, the smartest thing you could do if you’re successful in pushing this project through is hiring us to work on a committee to help make the project something we can all be proud of. Think of what Deena Cassalino did when she got in trouble.” The controversial Salt Lake mayor had hired Rod Yarich to defend her, the very attorney she had been under attack from all along, Jessica pointed out. “It was a brilliant public relations move,” she added. At the mention of Democratic pillars from the decadent capital city, the development partners’ moods appeared to darken. “While we appreciate your interest, Mrs. Tobler—pardon, Jessica. May I call you that?” When she didn’t answer, Hollings rushed on. “We have our own people who are eminently qualified,” he said. “Where we could use your help is in convincing your neighbors that our plan is in their long-range interest and for the benefit of the community.” “In that case,” Jessica replied, “we’ll have to fight you every step of the way.” She smiled as she said it, and for a moment the men appeared to wonder if she was going to add, “Just kidding.” When the waitress came with the food, Jessica was telling Julie about the time she had brought her family to Denny’s and all the kids had attempted to order hot fudge sundaes. Hollings forced a smile, and Julie noticed Henderson was rolling his eyes. Having completed their part of the transaction, the women relaxed, in contrast to their somewhat disgruntled dining companions. As Julie sipped her Diet Coke and Henderson nursed his ice water, Jessica kept glancing enviously at Hollings’s plate, where the pile of French fries served with his sandwich hadn’t been touched. “Something of mine you want?” Hollings said, the faintest edge in his voice. “Why thank you, Marc. You mind if I have a couple of your fries?” “Help yourself,” he said, slightly put off by her switch in form of address and unbelieving she would go beyond yanking his chain. No civilized person would take food from another person’s plate. “Excuse me, Geoffrey,” she said, reaching across Henderson’s barrel chest to pluck two fries from the stack Hollings had ignored. She noticed Henderson almost flinch when she accidentally touched his wrist. As Jessica calmly consumed her purloined potatoes, Henderson removed his wallet and was extracting a credit card when he stopped to ask, “I don’t suppose anyone would like some dessert?” He looked annoyed when both women hesitated before answering. “No thank you,” Julie said. “Actually,” Jessica spoke up, “I would.” There was an audible sigh. It was hard to tell whether Hollings or Henderson had uttered it. Neither man seemed resigned to spending another half hour in the booth. “Don’t worry,” Jessica said. “I’m getting a hot fudge sundae to go. I’ll take it home to my kids.” Despite reprieve from extended incarceration at the table, there was some impatient shuffling of feet by the hosts at the cashier’s station as they waited for the waitress to add the to-go order to the check and bring the Styrofoam carton of food. While Hollings was trying to make nice by shaking hands, something occurred to Henderson. “I got your shabby little fox,” he said in a half-hearted final flourish. “Who? Us?” Jessica teased. “Would we do something like that?” “It was cute,” he said, stressing the word with an ironic tone. “And I saw you peeking in the window.” As lame as it may have been, it wasn’t a bad exit line. It even stung a little, Jessica realized as she walked Julie to her car. They paused briefly to watch the men’s expensive vehicles wheel out of the parking lot. “Why don’t you just get this whole thing over with and sleep with Geoffrey Henderson?” Jessica said sarcastically. As black humor, it was more acerbic than anything she had ever said to her friend, or anyone else for that matter. Knowing she was not the target, Julie laughed. “Oh, I do have my standards,” she said.