Chapter One
Someone to Disagree With
Celia's advertisement came back to her with the word congenial written above it in pencil.
"That," she told Iva, "is precisely what I am trying to avoid."
"You cannot advertise for somebody uncongenial."
"I haven't. I have advertised for somebody who can disagree with me without quoting something from a cushion."
Iva looked down at the little sheet. "It does sound rather as if the successful applicant will be examined."
Outside the bay window a man was trying to persuade a large dog that their walk had begun. The dog had other plans for a patch of sunlight. Celia watched the man surrender and lean against the fence. It seemed an excellent arrangement. Nobody was being improved.
"You asked whether I wanted anything in the circular," she said. "That is what I want."
Iva laid her pencil beside the paper. Her circular went to people she had known at different times, who passed it to other people, so that the news of an unwanted dresser might travel farther than the dresser ever would. Celia had contributed a complaint about the disappearance of a particular kind of biscuit. She had never contributed anything she could not later claim was a joke.
The advertisement was short.
Correspondent wanted. Someone with an opinion worth arguing about. Letters, to begin with. No photographs, no improving quotations. Tell me something you dislike and why.
"You could say what you like," Iva suggested.
