As Robert went to commercial, two people came on set, one to comb Robert’s thick silver hair, the other to powder his face. Christy smiled uncomfortably. She tried to appear calm even though her nerves were frayed and her heart was racing.
The red taping light went on. “She’s been a role model to girls everywhere for the last twenty years. First, she won two Olympic gold medals. Then she parlayed her endorsement fees into a small running-shoe company that grew into a multimillion-dollar operation. Last year, Christy Hayes married media mogul Michael Drummond and inherited a daughter when her beloved housekeeper died, naming Christy as her granddaughter’s guardian. Christy then shocked the world by chucking her career and announcing that she was devoting her life to being a traditional wife and mother. Christy, do you realize that you’ve set the women’s movement back thirty years?”
“Well, I hope that’s not the case. It was the women’s movement that gave me the ability to choose between being a corporate warrior and a traditional wife.”
“So what was the impetus for this decision?”
When Michael and I were first married, there was plenty of time for me to be a world-class CEO and wife. But when a child was added to the equation, I knew I couldn’t shine in all three events—work, wife, mother. Something had to give.”
“And that was work?”
“Well, Michael’s the love of my life, and I couldn’t give him up. When Renata showed up, I knew I couldn’t run the company and still pick her up at three o’clock every day.”
“Let’s be honest, isn’t it more stimulating to lead a company than to wash your husband’s dirty underwear?”
“Let me answer you this way. I’m trying to be as good a wife and mother as I was an Olympic athlete. I’m always trying to think of creative ways to please my husband. Here’s an example. Not too long ago, I met his plane after he’d been on a long business trip. I was wearing a fur coat with nothing underneath. We couldn’t get in our limo fast enough. That was one very sexy ride home, let me tell you. When you put that kind of energy into every domestic activity you do, life is anything but boring.” Oh my God, did I just tell that story? Christy thought.
“I hope my wife is listening,” Robert said. “San Antonio, Texas, hello!”
“Hi, there. Love your show, Robert. Christy, I was wondering what kind of staff you have now that you’re a stay-at-home mom.”
“Well, we have a housekeeper, a driver, a cook, a nanny, an assistant, that sort of thing.”
“So if you have staff to wash your family’s clothes, clean the house, cook, and drive your child to school and lessons, then what do you do?”
“A lot. I make cupcakes with my daughter. I volunteer at her school. I pick her up.”
“Sorry, hon—that doesn’t cut it. You’re nothing like the rest of us. I’m sure it’s really grueling having to juggle your stylist, your interviews, and your daughter’s nanny all at the same time. Why don’t you tell the rest of us, how do you do it?”
“Well, I never said I had a stylist—”
“New York City for Christy Hayes Drummond, hello.”
“Hi, Robert. Christy, I read that article in the Times about you on Sunday. And nothing personal, but I think you’re full of bull ca-ca. Can I say that on the air? You’ve been a mother for what, five minutes? I’ll bet you’ve never washed your husband’s laundry. In fact, I’ll bet you don’t know how to use a washing machine.”
Christy took a deep breath. Busted. “I’ll grant you that I’m not your typical wife and mother. But having worked and stayed at home, I can say with authority that the stay-at-home life is the harder choice.” Okay, Christy thought. Good answer.
“Christy, you’re not telling us anything we don’t already know. You act like you discovered motherhood. I hate to break it to you, girlfriend, but a lot of us have been doing it for years, and without help, I might add.”
“Sacramento, California, hello.”
“Hi, Robert. I loved your show with Suzanne Somers yesterday.”
“Thanks, what’s your question?”
“Yes. Christy, I’m wondering if the fur you were wearing when you met your husband’s plane was real? And if it was, do you know how inhumanely animals that are bred for their hides are treated?”
“My fur was fake,” she lied. Uh-oh, bad turn. Christy wondered if anyone would notice if she exited stage right. How many more minutes were left? Thirty. Ooooooh.
“Bridgehampton, New York, hello. Bridgehampton, are you there?”
“I’m here, Robert. Hello, Christy. You know, I read the article in the Times on Sunday and I found it so ironic that while you complained that there’s no recognition for women who stay home, no awards, no profile in People magazine, you’re all over the newspapers and TV. And imagine my surprise when I saw a profile of you in this week’s People. I can’t tell if you really want this domestic life or if it’s just a publicity stunt to keep you in the news.”
“You’re awfully cynical,” Christy said. If she could have made herself melt like the Wicked Witch of the West at that moment, she would have.
“New York, New York, you’re on with Christy Hayes,” Robert said.
“Christy Hayes, don’t you think it’s time to come clean with Robert’s audience?”
Christy froze. That was Katherine’s voice. Her heart pounded so hard, she felt certain her mike was picking up the beat. Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke, she silently chanted. This can’t be happening. Why would Katherine call? Hasn’t she hurt me enough? I can’t think. Air. I need air.
“What do you mean by ‘come clean,’ Caller?” Robert asked.
“Christy didn’t choose to become a reborn domestic goddess. She was forced out of her company because she wasn’t up to the job,” Katherine said. “Tell them, Christy.”
“Those are some pretty serious charges, Caller. Do you want to
