He had managed to get to the office before nine, for the first time in three years. When Jo walked in he was leaning over the new assistant's desk, showing her a copy of the magazine and looking down the front of her blouse. He straightened up, looking flustered, at the sound of Jo's heels in the hall. She said "Good morning," in a cooler voice than usual, and walked past to her own cubicle. It didn't seem so welcoming this morning. She'd grown accustomed to a certain amount of faking where Stan was concerned. A smart woman working with a not-so-smart man always had to pretend. The authors of popular sociology books insisted that the United States was a matriarchy, with women holding eighty per cent of the buying power and making all of the domestic decisions. Maybe so. But in the business world, where protocol had been shaped about the time Bob Cratchit sat stoop-shouldered over his ledgers, the myth of male superiority still held. She and Stan divided their duties about equally.
