“Whew!” I breathed. I had never dreamed of winning a prize like that.

“I read about it,” Tess said. “Recently. I think it was in Time Magazine. We have so many accomplished people here it must have slipped my mind. The article said it was the 25th anniversary of his prize and the subject is more pertinent today than ever.”

“What did he win the Nobel for?” I asked.

“Something to do with money…”

“Well, of course there's a cash award that goes with the prize.”

“No, I mean he wrote about money. Currencies. And with the instability in the world's currency markets, that's why his work is important today.” Tess sometimes fooled people. She was smart for having been “just” a housewife.

“I hope somebody has the answer,” Carol said. “After what some of the third-world countries have gone through, recently, with their currencies depreciating so much as to be almost worthless.”

There was a knock on the open door; Carol raised her eyes and said, “Come in.”

I recognized the good-looking man who strode into the office as Joe Turner, whose title was something like Facilities Manager. He said, “Excuse me, Ladies. I have to get this requisition signed by the boss-lady or we may find ourselves with a backed-up sewer system.” He nodded to Tess, but not to me. What did she have that I didn't have?

His bare arm muscles rippled as he gave Carol the document. She glanced at it briefly, signed it and returned it to him. He pivoted on a large work-shoe-clad foot and strode out of the office, leaving an aura of masculinity behind. He was one of the men who will be expendable in 50 years. I'm glad I won't be around to see it.

“Now that is what I call a hunk,” I said.

“Lillian!” Tess said.

“I agree with you,” Carol said, smiling. “Why do you think I hired him?”