Then I thought about the jar, the shelf, the lightbulbs, and every helpless little emergency she’d invented to borrow my husband.
An idea clicked into place.
“Actually,” I said, “I think you should.”
Irvin stared at me. “Why?”
“I’m not going.”
“Trust me.”
He studied my face for a moment, then slowly smiled. “Should I be worried?”
“Not about me.”
***
The next afternoon, he went to Vanessa’s barbecue alone.
I waited half an hour.
Then I walked next door uninvited, carrying a large gift box in both arms.
“Should I be worried?”
Vanessa’s yard was crowded with neighbors holding paper plates and plastic cups.
Conversations slowed as I came through the gate. Irvin saw me first and had to hide a smile.
Vanessa didn’t bother hiding anything.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I brought the hostess a gift.” I set the box on the patio table in front of her. “Go ahead. Open it.”
Vanessa didn’t bother hiding anything.
Half the neighborhood was watching by then.
Vanessa lifted the lid.
Inside was a hammer, a full screwdriver set, three kinds of batteries, a pack of lightbulbs, a jar opener, a basic home-repair guide, and a printed list of four local handymen.
Her smile disappeared.
“Now you don’t need my husband anymore,” I said.
I thought that would teach her a lesson. I never imagined it would spark a war.
“Go ahead. Open it.”
A nervous laugh moved through the yard.
Vanessa forced one of her own.
“Oh my gosh, Claire. This is so dramatic. I was joking.”
“No, you weren’t. You told me to prepare for divorce because you were going to take him.”
That killed the laughter.
She turned toward Irvin as if she expected him to rescue her from the moment she’d created. She was so confident that for a moment I wondered if my “gift” was about to backfire.
That killed the laughter.
He walked over and put his arm around me instead.
“Claire’s right,” he said. “Don’t call me for things around your house anymore. If something breaks, use one of those numbers.”
Vanessa’s face went red.
