your
application in?”
“ No. I don’t even have a
job yet.”
“ There are only so many
slots. You need to put your application in ASAP.”
“ Thanks for letting me
know.”
I wondered what else I
needed to know that I didn’t know yet, but I couldn’t think how to
ask Deb in a way she could actually answer me. Working moms are so
used to being working moms, they don’t really know what needs to be
done since they’ve already been there, done that.
As expected, the field
trip was a blast. But after a day herding third-graders through the
wonders of space, I was tired by the time we reached the part of
the day I dreaded: the space museum gift shop.
Bianca’s daughter, Sabrina, led the souvenir
charge, as usual, with the cry, “I want a rocket ship, and a key
chain, and a moon rock!”
The rest of us chaperone
moms glanced at each other and sighed. Bianca’s husband was
president of the local bank, which I guess meant he made a lot of
money. Bianca’s only job seemed to be to spend as much of it as she
could. Or maybe it seemed that way to me.
I saw Anna looking at me,
a worried frown on her face. “Don’t worry, Mom,” she whispered. “I
know we can’t afford anything until you find out if you have the
job.”
Ah, the joys of having a
worrywart child. “One thing, under five dollars, isn’t going to
bankrupt us,” I said, hoping that was true.
Her face lit up and she
went off to check out the five dollars and under
possibilities.
“ That’s impossible,”
Bianca’s voice cut through the hubbub in the tiny museum
shop.
I looked up and saw that
she stood there, four credit cards fanned out in her hand. “None of
these are good? Your machine must be broken.”
The sales clerk glanced
over to the other clerk, who was successfully ringing up credit
card sales at her station, and looked apologetic. “I can call your
bank if you like.”
“ Yes. Immediately.” Bianca
nodded. “Speak to my husband,” she added sharply, “The
president.”
The sales clerk looked at
her for a moment, as if she thought she might be joking. And then
she saw she wasn’t.
Bianca snapped into the
phone, “John, all my credit cards are being denied. What’s going
on?”
A mother behind me
murmured, “Maybe he decided to divorce her, and he sent her the
message by turning off the cards?”
Another mom snickered
softly. As much as Bianca annoyed me, I hoped that wasn’t
true.
“ What? That’s impossible.
When?” Bianca turned white and wordlessly handed the phone back to
the clerk, and I wondered if her husband really had cut her off in
preparation for a nasty divorce.
Taking a shaky breath,
Bianca pulled out her wallet and peeled off four twenty dollar
bills to pay for her daughter’s souveniers.
She waited silently as the
clerk bagged the gifts, thanked her, handed the bag to her
daughter, and then turned and headed straight toward
Deb.
“ I have been
robbed.”
“ Souvenirs are always
expensive,” I joked lamely.
“ Someone has not only run
my credit cards up to the limit, but they’ve opened ten new cards
at other banks.” She was shaking with fury. “As if I’d have a
credit card at any bank but ours.”
Deb said, “That’s
terrible. I assume your husband is reporting the identity
theft?”
“ Yes, he is. I want you to
arrest someone immediately.”
“ Identity theft is usually
handled by the FBI, not the local police,” Deb said. “But if you
come down to the station tomorrow, I’ll take a report. If the
person turns out to be local, we can probably arrest him or her for
something.”
“ Never mind. I’ll call the
FBI directly.” Bianca took out her phone, “Do you have the
number?”
Deb blinked.
Before she could answer, I
said, “I do.” I took out my phone, hoping it would still have
enough charge for me to retrieve James Connery’s number.
“ You have the number of
the FBI?” Bianca sounded incredulous.
“ Well, the number of an
agent I know. He could
application in?”
“ No. I don’t even have a
job yet.”
“ There are only so many
slots. You need to put your application in ASAP.”
“ Thanks for letting me
know.”
I wondered what else I
needed to know that I didn’t know yet, but I couldn’t think how to
ask Deb in a way she could actually answer me. Working moms are so
used to being working moms, they don’t really know what needs to be
done since they’ve already been there, done that.
As expected, the field
trip was a blast. But after a day herding third-graders through the
wonders of space, I was tired by the time we reached the part of
the day I dreaded: the space museum gift shop.
Bianca’s daughter, Sabrina, led the souvenir
charge, as usual, with the cry, “I want a rocket ship, and a key
chain, and a moon rock!”
The rest of us chaperone
moms glanced at each other and sighed. Bianca’s husband was
president of the local bank, which I guess meant he made a lot of
money. Bianca’s only job seemed to be to spend as much of it as she
could. Or maybe it seemed that way to me.
I saw Anna looking at me,
a worried frown on her face. “Don’t worry, Mom,” she whispered. “I
know we can’t afford anything until you find out if you have the
job.”
Ah, the joys of having a
worrywart child. “One thing, under five dollars, isn’t going to
bankrupt us,” I said, hoping that was true.
Her face lit up and she
went off to check out the five dollars and under
possibilities.
“ That’s impossible,”
Bianca’s voice cut through the hubbub in the tiny museum
shop.
I looked up and saw that
she stood there, four credit cards fanned out in her hand. “None of
these are good? Your machine must be broken.”
The sales clerk glanced
over to the other clerk, who was successfully ringing up credit
card sales at her station, and looked apologetic. “I can call your
bank if you like.”
“ Yes. Immediately.” Bianca
nodded. “Speak to my husband,” she added sharply, “The
president.”
The sales clerk looked at
her for a moment, as if she thought she might be joking. And then
she saw she wasn’t.
Bianca snapped into the
phone, “John, all my credit cards are being denied. What’s going
on?”
A mother behind me
murmured, “Maybe he decided to divorce her, and he sent her the
message by turning off the cards?”
Another mom snickered
softly. As much as Bianca annoyed me, I hoped that wasn’t
true.
“ What? That’s impossible.
When?” Bianca turned white and wordlessly handed the phone back to
the clerk, and I wondered if her husband really had cut her off in
preparation for a nasty divorce.
Taking a shaky breath,
Bianca pulled out her wallet and peeled off four twenty dollar
bills to pay for her daughter’s souveniers.
She waited silently as the
clerk bagged the gifts, thanked her, handed the bag to her
daughter, and then turned and headed straight toward
Deb.
“ I have been
robbed.”
“ Souvenirs are always
expensive,” I joked lamely.
“ Someone has not only run
my credit cards up to the limit, but they’ve opened ten new cards
at other banks.” She was shaking with fury. “As if I’d have a
credit card at any bank but ours.”
Deb said, “That’s
terrible. I assume your husband is reporting the identity
theft?”
“ Yes, he is. I want you to
arrest someone immediately.”
“ Identity theft is usually
handled by the FBI, not the local police,” Deb said. “But if you
come down to the station tomorrow, I’ll take a report. If the
person turns out to be local, we can probably arrest him or her for
something.”
“ Never mind. I’ll call the
FBI directly.” Bianca took out her phone, “Do you have the
number?”
Deb blinked.
Before she could answer, I
said, “I do.” I took out my phone, hoping it would still have
enough charge for me to retrieve James Connery’s number.
“ You have the number of
the FBI?” Bianca sounded incredulous.
“ Well, the number of an
agent I know. He could
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