The house

“First of all,” Jennifer said as they unpacked her mother’s china in the dining room. “I’d like to keep my own name.”

Larry sniffed. They’d been married for three weeks, had a terrific wedding in Malibu and then a fabulous time together in Maui, And now they were unpacking their boxes in the Pasadena house Larry had bought for the two of them.

What’s in a name, Larry thought? A rose by any other name, Shakespeare wrote. Besides which, he had his beautiful bride – all that flowing blonde hair, the curvy hips – and who was he, with his Fred Flintstone body, pasty white skin, and thick black glasses? Who was he, to nitpick on such an issue?

“I’m fine with that,” Larry said at last. “So you’ll be Jennifer Conner?”

“Oh, no, darling” Jennifer said, placing the Wedgewood onto the cabinet’s glass shelves. “I’ll stay with Jennifer Vanderhosen. It’s how I’m known down at the hair salon.”

“I thought you’d change the name of that store, sweetheart,” Larry said. “Marlon has been dead for three months now, and you need to move on.”

Jennifer put a serving platter down on the dining room table and faced Larry. “But sweetheart, it’s how all of my customers know me. If I change the salon’s name, I’ll lose half my customers. Trust me, I’m a smart businesswoman now.”

Funny, Larry thought – she hadn’t played her businesswoman cards when they were courting. Right from the moment Larry knocked on her door, telling her that he and the other E.M.T.s had pulled Marlon out of the upside-down Corvette – she’d played the role of helpless female. And before they’d signed the prenuptial agreement, he hadn’t even thought she could add two and two. But now, now she was the smart businesswoman.