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Malcolm.”
“There’s nothing more to talk about,” Violet said.
“Don’t you want to win your case?”
“Of course I do. Just not…like this.”
Mrs. Parker put her drink down on the side table and stared at Violet. “I see.”
Her tone of voice implied that she saw more than she was letting on, but Violet wasn’t sure she wanted to know what her guest was thinking. “I should get back to work,” she said.
Mrs. Parker was undeterred. “You’re far too gentle,” she said. “You don’t want to hurt Malcolm.”
“You make it sound like ‘gentle’ is a character flaw.”
“It’s not,” Mrs. Parker said, “if you’re a poodle. But for a woman trying to make her way in the world, there is a lot to be said for acrimony.”
Violet folded her arms. “I might not be as sweet as you think,” she said. “You should see what they say about me on the Internet. People think I can be pretty brutal.”
“But only in your reviews, my dear. That’s not where it counts.”
Violet sighed. She’d heard it all before. Mostly from her sister, ironically, who often told her she needed to apply the courage she used in her reviews to her personal life. Ivy never took any responsibility for the role she played in making Violet so tongue-tied. And she certainly didn’t relate to her sister’s anxiety. Gregarious types like Ivy and Dorothy Parker could never understand how paralyzing social phobia could be. They thought all she needed was a little guidance, a pep talk, a set of instructions. If only it were that easy.
Violet changed the subject. “Look, I’m on deadline. I really should write this review and get it submitted.”
Mrs. Parker polished off the last drops of her drink. “I’d like to watch.”
“Really?”
“I’ve seen people using these things in the Algonquin,” she said, pointing to Violet’s laptop. “But I’ve never really understood what it was all about.”
Violet took a seat at the desk and opened her notebook computer. “I’ll show you,” she said, and clicked the document she had been working on.
“Is this the Internet?” Mrs. Parker asked, peering over her shoulder.
“This part is more or less a glorified typewriter. I type documents in here and can then use the Internet to send them.”
“Edify me.”
Violet opened her browser and showed Mrs. Parker her e-mail account. “These are all electronic messages. This one’s from Buck Skelly, my editor,” she said, opening an e-mail she had read earlier. “He’s reminding me that he’s going away for a few days and won’t be able to edit my next review before the issue closes. He trusts me enough to self-edit but says his assistant will eyeball it for any glaring errors. And see here? This line that says ‘cc’? That means his assistant got a copy of this e-mail, as well.”
“In my day,
cc
stood for carbon copy.”
“Now it stands for nothing.”
“Like your politicians. Are you going to reply?”
“Sure,” Violet said. “Watch.” She clicked reply and typed her message:
We’ll try to behave while you’re gone. Have a great time in Dallas, Buck.
She hit send.
“That’s
it
?”
“That’s it.”
“How long will it take him to get it?”
“It’s usually instantaneous.”
“Goodness.”
“Here’s another one,” Violet said. “It’s from a colleague asking me to be the guest reviewer for a TV segment. I always turn these down.”
“You should accept.”
Violet laughed. “Me? On television? You’ve got to be kidding.” Violet typed her message, expressing polite regrets, and hit send. Start to finish, it took less than thirty seconds.
“Extraordinary,” Mrs. Parker said. “Can I try one?”
“You want to respond to one of my e-mails?”
“I do!”
Violet grinned. “Be my guest,” she said, and rose to give Mrs. Parker her seat.
“What should I do?”
Violet showed her how to use the mouse, and let her click on an e-mail to open it. “I take kung fu lessons at a
“There’s nothing more to talk about,” Violet said.
“Don’t you want to win your case?”
“Of course I do. Just not…like this.”
Mrs. Parker put her drink down on the side table and stared at Violet. “I see.”
Her tone of voice implied that she saw more than she was letting on, but Violet wasn’t sure she wanted to know what her guest was thinking. “I should get back to work,” she said.
Mrs. Parker was undeterred. “You’re far too gentle,” she said. “You don’t want to hurt Malcolm.”
“You make it sound like ‘gentle’ is a character flaw.”
“It’s not,” Mrs. Parker said, “if you’re a poodle. But for a woman trying to make her way in the world, there is a lot to be said for acrimony.”
Violet folded her arms. “I might not be as sweet as you think,” she said. “You should see what they say about me on the Internet. People think I can be pretty brutal.”
“But only in your reviews, my dear. That’s not where it counts.”
Violet sighed. She’d heard it all before. Mostly from her sister, ironically, who often told her she needed to apply the courage she used in her reviews to her personal life. Ivy never took any responsibility for the role she played in making Violet so tongue-tied. And she certainly didn’t relate to her sister’s anxiety. Gregarious types like Ivy and Dorothy Parker could never understand how paralyzing social phobia could be. They thought all she needed was a little guidance, a pep talk, a set of instructions. If only it were that easy.
Violet changed the subject. “Look, I’m on deadline. I really should write this review and get it submitted.”
Mrs. Parker polished off the last drops of her drink. “I’d like to watch.”
“Really?”
“I’ve seen people using these things in the Algonquin,” she said, pointing to Violet’s laptop. “But I’ve never really understood what it was all about.”
Violet took a seat at the desk and opened her notebook computer. “I’ll show you,” she said, and clicked the document she had been working on.
“Is this the Internet?” Mrs. Parker asked, peering over her shoulder.
“This part is more or less a glorified typewriter. I type documents in here and can then use the Internet to send them.”
“Edify me.”
Violet opened her browser and showed Mrs. Parker her e-mail account. “These are all electronic messages. This one’s from Buck Skelly, my editor,” she said, opening an e-mail she had read earlier. “He’s reminding me that he’s going away for a few days and won’t be able to edit my next review before the issue closes. He trusts me enough to self-edit but says his assistant will eyeball it for any glaring errors. And see here? This line that says ‘cc’? That means his assistant got a copy of this e-mail, as well.”
“In my day,
cc
stood for carbon copy.”
“Now it stands for nothing.”
“Like your politicians. Are you going to reply?”
“Sure,” Violet said. “Watch.” She clicked reply and typed her message:
We’ll try to behave while you’re gone. Have a great time in Dallas, Buck.
She hit send.
“That’s
it
?”
“That’s it.”
“How long will it take him to get it?”
“It’s usually instantaneous.”
“Goodness.”
“Here’s another one,” Violet said. “It’s from a colleague asking me to be the guest reviewer for a TV segment. I always turn these down.”
“You should accept.”
Violet laughed. “Me? On television? You’ve got to be kidding.” Violet typed her message, expressing polite regrets, and hit send. Start to finish, it took less than thirty seconds.
“Extraordinary,” Mrs. Parker said. “Can I try one?”
“You want to respond to one of my e-mails?”
“I do!”
Violet grinned. “Be my guest,” she said, and rose to give Mrs. Parker her seat.
“What should I do?”
Violet showed her how to use the mouse, and let her click on an e-mail to open it. “I take kung fu lessons at a
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