long ago; like they were acquaintances or office mates who were fond of each other. They balled up wrapping paper and threw it into a big black garbage bag that Will held open. Anytime someone made it in, Will would shout, “Two points for you!”
By the time they all sat down to eat ham at the table, their patience was thin and their small talk was bordering on nasty.
“Don’t take so many potatoes,” Martha told Max.
“Calm down, there’s plenty left for you, porky,” he said.
“I can’t believe any of you are hungry,” Bets said. “You all ate like pigs going to slaughter this morning. I can barely even imagine eating a meal right now.”
“I could use some help in the kitchen,” Weezy said.
“I’m right here, trying to help,” Will said.
“This ham looks really fatty,” Claire said.
Only Cleo remained almost completely silent. She was probably trying to will herself to be anywhere but there, thinking that no matter how much she was fighting with her own mom, this was worse. You could almost see her thoughts: There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.
Fran spent the holiday in Florida with his parents, and when he returned, he brought her a little tchotchke, a tiny stage with a group of stones with googly eyes and little guitars. Underneath the label said ROCK BAND. Claire took it and laughed.
“It made me think of you,” Fran said. She wasn’t sure what to make of that.
He also gave her a beautiful light tan leather journal. She realized that he probably found both presents in some little gift shop that was nearby, but she didn’t hold that against him.
She gave him a plaid scarf that she’d bought at the last minute, during a moment of doubt when she couldn’t justify sleeping with someone for three months and not giving him a Christmas present. He seemed to like it.
IT WAS A RELIEF TO GO BACK TO WORK after Christmas, which was the first time Claire had ever thought such a thing. Even though the heat in the office was on full blast and the place was always too warm, and everyone always seemed to have wet shoes that smelled like dogs, Claire was glad to be back. It meant that time was moving forward, that winter was continuing on. The people of PP loved talking about the weather, and even when it was barely snowing outside, they’d come in sniffling and saying things like, “We’re due for another whopper,” or “It took me twenty minutes to clear off my car this morning!”
Right before Christmas, Leslie had called Claire into her office to tell her that Amanda had decided to take another three months off unpaid. “It’s company policy that allows you to do that,” Leslie said. “So legally we have to let her. I won’t get into the details, but let’s just say I’m not surprised we’re in this situation.”
“Uh-huh,” Claire said. She couldn’t blame Amanda for not wanting to come back to PP right away.
“We’re hoping that you’ll be able to stay on for the next three months.”
“Sure,” Claire said.
“That’s great. That really gets us out of a bind.”
It didn’t seem like a bind at all to Claire, but she didn’t say anything. If she couldn’t do it, wouldn’t they have just called the temp agency and gotten someone else? But she could tell that Leslie was the kind of person who enjoyed being annoyed at work, who liked to sigh deeply and tell her friends, “You just have no idea what I’m dealing with at the office. No idea.”
“So you’ll stay until the end of March?” Lainie asked when she told her. “That’s good.”
“I guess.”
“Well, it’s a job. And that’s what you need.”
“I know. It’s just sometimes I feel like I’m going to be there forever. Like I’m just going to keep working at PP and keep living at home for the rest of my life.”
“Claire, it’s three more months. Don’t be so dramatic.”
“It’s just when I look at the past year, I feel like I messed up so much that there’s no telling what I could do.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’re not going to live at home forever. You’ll move out, and probably soon. You’re just taking time to figure out what you want to do. It’s just a time-out.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Claire thought about Lainie’s words when she was at Proof Perfect, making copies or opening the mail. “TV Time-out,” she’d whisper sometimes at her desk. It was something they used to scream when