LITMIR.BIZ

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bourguignon simmering on the stove was driving me crazy. I ransacked my purse for something to eat, but all I came up with was an old Doublemint gum wrapper, which I’m ashamed to say I licked clean.

      Then I glanced over at the wet bar and saw my salvation. A bowl of hard candies was sitting on the counter, beckoning to me. I raced over, only to discover they weren’t real candies, but made of glass. What sort of sadist has glass candies out on display to fool unsuspecting guests? The same sort of sadist who makes her writers sit on the toilet bowl, that’s who.

      I decided to search behind the bar. Surely there’d be something to eat. Some nuts, maybe, or chips. But no. All I saw were bottles of booze. For a brief instant I considered chugalugging some Grand Marnier, but I couldn’t risk showing up tipsy at the dinner table.

      I opened the mini-fridge. Nothing but white wine. Good heavens, these people were annoying. With all their millions, couldn’t they afford a measly bag of potato chips?

      And then I found it. Way in the back of a cupboard, behind a stack of cocktail napkins: a jar of macadamia nuts. Macadamia nuts! I felt like Columbus discovering America, or Colonel Sanders discovering Extra Crispy Fried Chicken.

      I grabbed the jar and tried to open it, but the Easy Open Lid wouldn’t budge. Lord knows how long it had been sitting there in the cupboard. Maybe it was permanently welded shut. I wanted to bang the lid on the counter to loosen it, but I was afraid I’d make too much noise. So I ran it under hot water in the tiny wet bar sink. It took forever for the water in the tap to finally turn hot, but at last it did, and I held the jar under the steamy water. Then I gave it another try. Still no luck. This was ridiculous. This jar was shut tighter than a bank vault. Somebody ought to write an angry letter to the Easy Open Lid people about the concept of truth in advertising.

      I tugged at that jar with every ounce of strength I possessed, and at last the lid flew open. That was the good news. The bad news was that the nuts came flying out of the jar and landed all over the carpet.

      I got down on my hands and knees and started gathering the nuts, cursing myself for agreeing to stay for dinner.

      “Having fun?”

      I looked up and saw SueEllen’s stepdaughter standing in the doorway, peering at me through those thick bangs of hers.

      “Oh, geez. This is so embarrassing. You see, I got a little hungry, and—”

      “Don’t worry,” she said, smiling shyly. “I’ll help.” Then she got down on her knees and started picking up nuts.

      “Thanks so much,” I said. “This is awfully nice of you.”

      “I bet the Calorie Cop didn’t feed you all day,” she said, plunking nuts into the jar.

      “Just a tiny salad and a Diet Coke.”

      “I told you she’d be hell to work for. You’re lucky you got the salad.”

      We scooted around on all fours, gathering the macadamias. Finally, we rounded them all up. I looked down into the jar hungrily. I didn’t care if they’d been on the carpet. I still wanted them.

      “Look, I hope you won’t think this is too disgusting, eating off the floor, but I’ve got to have some of these nuts. I’m starving.”

      “Help yourself,” she shrugged.

      I dusted some off and was just about to pop them in my mouth when I heard a voice warn me, “I wouldn’t eat those if I were you.”

      I looked up and saw a handsome young guy, about eighteen. This was undoubtedly Brad, the stepson who forgot his keys.

      “I had sex on that carpet last night.”

      I dropped the nuts back in the jar. That hungry, I wasn’t.

      Brad ambled into the room, leaving a trail of spicy aftershave in his wake. As he stretched himself out on the den’s leather sofa, I took in his dark curly hair, cobalt blue eyes, and lean young body. The kid was a knockout and he knew it. I could easily picture him having sex on the carpet, or anywhere else for that matter.

      “You must be SueEllen’s new writer,” he said.

      “Yes. I’m Jaine Austen. Like the author. Only with an ‘i’ in Jaine.”

      He looked up at me, puzzled. “What author?”

      Obviously the kid was no Class Valedictorian.

      “Jane Austen,” Heidi said with a sigh. “She wrote Pride & Prejudice.”

      “Like I care,” he said, picking up a Ferrari brochure from the coffee table.

      “My name’s Heidi,” Heidi said. “And this is my bad-mannered brother Brad.”

      “Nice to meet you,” I said.

      Brad didn’t bother to look up from his Ferrari brochure.

      “Dad’s going to get me a Ferrari for a graduation present,” he said.

      “Fat chance,” Heidi said. “SueEllen will never let him spend that kind of money on you.”

      His brow furrowed in annoyance.

      “Who says?”

      “Get real, Brad. Don’t you know by now that all the big bucks in this house are spent on SueEllen?”

      “You’re nuts,” he said. “Dad’ll get it for me.”

      “Dream on.”

      At which point, we heard the sound of high heels clacking on hardwood.

      “It’s SueEllen,” Heidi warned. “Better put that away.”

      I looked down and realized I was still holding the macadamia nuts. I scampered over to the wet bar, and shoved them into the cupboard, just seconds before SueEllen came sashaying into the room in skin tight capris and a low cut spandex T-shirt.

      “Hi, kids,” she said, flashing what I suspected was a rare smile at them. “Brad, sweetheart, feet off the sofa, please.”

      Brad grudgingly flopped his feet down from the sofa.

      “Well,” she said, smiling brightly, “is everybody hungry?”

      Talk about your rhetorical questions.

      “Shall we?” she said, gesturing to the door. Then her face puckered in annoyance.

      “What’s this?” She bent down and picked up a macadamia nut that had managed to escape our clutches.

      SueEllen eyed Heidi coolly.

      “Is this yours?” she asked, holding out the offending nut.

      Heidi looked down at the carpet, saying nothing. What a nice kid, I thought. Clearly, she didn’t want to get me in trouble.

      “How many times have I told you?” Sue Ellen said, tapping her foot in annoyance. “No Between-Meal Snacks!”

      “Actually,” I piped up. “It’s mine.”

      “It is?” SueEllen looked almost disappointed, as if she’d been looking forward to ragging on Heidi, and I’d robbed her of the opportunity.

      “Well, technically,” I said, “it’s yours. I found a jar of nuts in your wet bar. I’m sorry I opened it without asking, but I was awfully hungry.”

      “You were?” she asked, amazed that anyone could possibly be hungry after the elaborate 10-calorie lunch she’d served.

      “Oh, well,” she said. “No matter. Let’s go satisfy that appetite of yours, shall we, Porky?”

      Okay, so she didn’t really call me Porky, but I knew that’s what she was thinking.

      And as we followed SueEllen out the door, Heidi turned to me and smiled. I smiled back, happy that there was at least one person in the Kingsley clan that I could relate to.

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