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“Honey, could you get that?”
Paul extricated himself from the small boy hanging onto his ankle and stepped over a pile of Legos to the front door. Outside was a clean-shaven young man in a suit, which worried Paul. What young man didn’t have a bit of scruff these days?
“Are you a missionary?” Paul asked.
“No, sir.”
Paul narrowed his eyes. “You said ‘sir.’ You must be a missionary.”
“I’m not a saint of later days or early days and I’m not a witness to anything but your pleasant face.” The young man held out his hand. “Jonas Weatherby, at your service.”
Paul took the hand as firmly as he could, to show who was really in charge here. “Paul.”
“Shall we go in or go out?” Jonas asked with a smile.
“Oh, yes, come in.”
As Jonas passed the threshold, Paul suddenly realized the house was a mess and his wife would have a fit if anyone saw it. “Actually, how about—“
Jonas was already in the kitchen making his introduction.
“Jonas Weatherby, at your service, ma’am.”
“Oh—yes. Let me get my husband.” Then, much louder, “Paul!”
“He’s not a missionary,” Paul said hurriedly. “He’s just here to….”
“Fix your problems,” Jonas said.
“What problems?” his wife Jan asked, glaring at Paul.
Paul held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything!”
“We don’t have any problems,” Jan said.
The cry of a wild beast came from the living room, followed by a cackle of laughter.
“Sam, don’t pull the cat’s tail!” Paul yelled.
“One child?” Jonas asked.
“Another on the way,” Paul said.
“Congratulations.” Jonas beamed, then nodded to Jan. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I wondered.”
“I’m due in two weeks,” she said flatly.
“How wonderful! Well, I can see you’re busy people, so let me get right to the point.”
“Yes, please,” Jan said.
Another shriek emerged from the next room and continued for several seconds.
“GET OFF THE CAT!” Paul yelled.
“OK, Dada,” came the cheery reply.
“In the days of yore,” Jonas began, “young men like me might stop at your door lugging a large suitcase filled with books. Those books contained all the information we used to t hink we needed to get along in this world. Can you guess what they were called?”
“TV Guide?” Paul said.
“Encyclopedias, Paul. Books of wonder. Everything from aardvark to Zimbabwe. But those were different days.”
Blocks began flying into the kitchen and sliding along the floor.
“Sam!”
“Leave him be.” Jan leaned heavily against the counter, arms crossed over her belly. She motioned to Jonas with a wooden spoon. “You trying to sell us encyclopedias?”
“Of course not! Something much better! Answers to your problems!”
“What problems?” Paul asked.
“Any problem. Every problem.”
“Potty training?” Jan asked.
“Sure!”
“A high-interest mortgage?” Paul asked.
“Of course!”
“Balancing work and family?”
“Absolutely!”
“Resolving long-standing interpersonal disputes at a workplace you hate?”
“Obviously.”
“How to be a strong woman who’s beautiful but who isn’t dictated by cultural expectations of strength and beauty?”
“I’d be remiss if we didn’t!”
“How to learn to roll your r’s if you never learned in Spanish class.”
Jonas pondered that one a moment. “Yes, yes, I believe so!”
By this time, Sam had snuck into the room and kicked his father in the shin. Paul ran after him, screaming. Meanwhile, Jan’s pot of pasta started boiling over and she rushed to turn down the heat. Jonas smiled serenely and waited for their attention. Somewhere, a boy was wailing behind a closed door.
“Well?” Jonas asked Jan and Paul.
“We’re interested,” they said together.
From his bag, Jonas pulled out something like a telephone book (which made Paul realize suddenly he hadn’t looked at a telephone book for most of a decade).
“A book?” Jan said, disappointed.
“I was rather thinking it might be an app or something,” Paul said.
“Oh, we can get to that, for an extra fee,” Jonas said. “The thing is, everyone uses the Internet. This is yours, and no hacker or virus or government agency can tap into. This, my dear friends, is The Book of Life.”
Paul made a little “oooh” of approval before catching himself.
“You mean like the Bible?” Jan said coolly. “You are a missionary.”
“No, not like the Bible. Much better. Much more helpful and to the point. Lists. Pages and pages of lists. Ten Ways to Make a Friend. Seven Ways to Beat a Cold. Eighteen Ways to Improve Your Golf Swing. Three Ways to Ensure Your Eternal Salvation. Every topic is one page. Simple. To the point. Effective. All the knowledge of eight billion humans distilled into Five Ways to Be Happy Every Day.”
“Can we look at it?” Paul said.
“Briefly,” Jonas said. “Just in case, this is an expurgated version. The full text is only available to purchasers.”
Paul took the light book and set it on the counter. He leafed through it, Jan peering over his shoulder.
Six Ways to Avoid a Dinner Date. Nine Ways to Win at Go, Fish. Two Ways to an Argument (Female Edition). Five Ways to Stave Off a Sense of Meaningless and Despair.
Paul turned to his wife. She grabbed his hand. He felt a surge of romance and confidence.
“We’ll take it!” he declared, just as she said, “Does it really work?” Obviously, he had misread the confidence.
“Absolutely. How do you think I became a Book of Life salesman?” Jonas walked over and turned pages until he reached, Six and a Half Ways to Become Filthy Rich. Number three read, “Join the Book of Life sales club.”
“How much?” Paul asked.
“You’ll get updates and additions mailed to you quarterly for the rest of your life. We’re always improving.”
“How much?’ Jan asked.
The sound of glass shattering came from where the wailing had grown quiet.
“Never mind,” Paul said. “We’ll just put it on the card.”