the reason he married her. Marianne Dunn was simply the most positive person he’d ever met, always upbeat. A born teacher, she said. But her salary only supplemented his income, which supported the family, or used to. He didn’t know how he’d tell her the truth.
“Thanks.” Bill opened the French fry bag, which released a mouthwatering smell. He popped a fry in his mouth. “You guys feasted, eh? McDonald’s and Rita’s.”
“How’s it going?” Marianne bent over, kissed him on the cheek, then surveyed the bills scattered around him.
“Great,” Bill answered, because the twins were here.
“Okay, girls. Go get showered and into your pajamas. Vamoose!” Marianne got them moving, and the twins hustled out of the kitchen.
Bill watched them go, thinking that parenthood was all about momentum.
“How’d the game go?”
“Jennifer got two hits, and the other one got one.” Marianne smiled. “I forget her name.”
“It begins with a J.” Bill managed to smile back. They both called the kids the wrong names all the time.
“Want some coffee?” Marianne leaned on the wall and took off her sneakers.
“Love some, thanks.” Bill closed the checkbook, and Marianne padded to the counter.
“Where’s David?”
“Take a guess,” Bill answered, more sharply than he’d intended. “Up in his room reading Infinite Jest, which is infinite, but not a jest.”
“He’s been in his room a lot lately. Or out riding his bike.”
“He did that earlier.”
Marianne poured some coffee beans into the grinder. “He’s less plugged in, don’t you think?”
“Nah, he’s fine.”
“Where’s Jason?” Marianne turned on the grinder, and it churned noisily. When it stopped, she spooned the grinds into the coffeemaker.
“Working late.”
“Poor thing.”
“Lucky dog.” Bill knew that came out wrong.
“What did you have for dinner?” Marianne poured water into the coffeemaker and hit BREW.
“Cap’n Crunch. Does that count?”
“Works for me.”
Bill forced a smile. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, a large rectangle ringed with oak cabinets and the island with a marble countertop. Top-of-the-line appliances and bay windows over the backyard. He’d never lived in a house this nice.
“So how bad is it?” Marianne gestured at the bills.
“Bad.”
“How bad?”
“You need to sit down first.”
“Tell me.”
Bill took a deep breath. “I have to close the store.”
“For real?” Marianne kept her expression of loving interest. She never let herself get down, no matter how bad things got.
“For real.”
“You can’t let any more people go?”
“No. I’m down to two, the doctor and me. I do everything I used to pay for. Yesterday, I cleaned the display cases.”
“Maybe it’s not that bad?”
“Honey, it is. It’s over.” Bill loved her so much it hurt, and it broke his heart that he had let her down. And the kids.
“But why?”
“My sales are down, almost half, for the past three quarters. I can’t survive that.”
“Won’t they go back up?”
“I doubt it. The optical business has changed too much, honey. You’ve heard me complain. It used to be mom-and-pop stores like me, with a thousand square feet in a strip mall. I can’t compete with LensCrafters and its eight hundred stores, with national advertising and one-hour service guarantees. They’re driving customers to them. They do a billion in sales.”
“But you’re the neighborhood guy.”
“There’s no neighborhood anymore. Nobody lives in Meghan’s Run. We live in developments and we shop in strip malls and malls.”
“But people still go to you. Everyone we know.”
“That’s not enough.” Bill hated putting this on her, this way. “I’m losing entire families now, because of managed care. It happened overnight. I’m still trying to recover. I’ve told you about that.”
“I didn’t really understand. I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“Right.” Bill knew he had hidden it from her. He hadn’t wanted her to worry. “Okay, take Vanguard, the biggest employer around here. They deal with a company that packages eyecare benefits, like Davis Vision, for example. Their package includes glasses, contacts, and routine exams. Almost half of my customers are now members of that plan.”
“Okay.”
“I can either accept the plan or not. If I don’t, the customers go elsewhere. So does the entire family.”
Marianne frowned. “Then why don’t you accept it?”
“I do, but it only pays me forty bucks for a routine eye exam. I used to charge seventy, and that’s not unreasonable, at all. And I have more paperwork than I ever used to because I have to verify the benefits, enter it into the system, and make sure I get paid. They’re always a slow pay.” Bill couldn’t sugarcoat it any longer. “I spend half my time managing my accounts receivable now. I don’t have the money to hire