“We always collaborated beautifully,” Nadine says sweetly. “I did the work. Dilly took the credit. It was a very efficient system.”
“Efficiency was always important to me,” hologram Dilly agrees, and her auburn hair lights itself on fire for a moment. So disconcerting, but oh so entertaining. Why didn’t I think of this first? “Why split profits with dead weight when you can simply eliminate the competition? Some people are just too stupid to succeed on their own merits.”
The crowd is eating this up, but I’m starting to understand why someone might want to bash Dilly Thatcher over the head with a rolling pin. The woman is apparently toxic even in death.
“Tell us about your retirement plans,” someone calls out, and a tense laugh circles the vicinity. These people are clearly heartless and cruel for finding humor in the face of death. Come to think of it, they’re basically my people.
Nadine’s expression goes arctic. “Well, Dilly had some very interesting ideas about that. Didn’t you, dear?”
“I believed in planning for the future,” the hologram responds. “Sometimes you have to make difficult decisions for the good of the brand.”
“Indeed,” Nadine says, her voice now sharp enough to julienne vegetables. “Some of us were apparently closer to retirement than we realized.”
The tension is thick enough to frost a cake, and I’m starting to think this Q&A session is less about baking tips and more about airing decades of buried resentment in front of a live audience.
A woman in the front row raises her hand eagerly. “I’ve been married for twenty years, and my husband still can’t remember to put the toilet seat down. Should I train him or trade him in?”
Nadine’s eyes light up with wicked delight. “Honey, at twenty years, he’s not trainable—he’s just inconsiderate. But before you trade him in, what’s his credit score?”
“And does he have a 401k?” hologram Dilly chimes in. “Because bad habits can be overlooked if the retirement plan is solid.”
“Exactly!” Nadine nods approvingly. “A man who can’t remember toilet seat etiquette probably can’t remember to pay bills either. You want someone who’s house-trained AND financially responsible.”
Another woman calls out, “My boyfriend says I spend too much money on kitchen gadgets, but he spends twice as much on golf clubs!”
“Drop him like a bad soufflé,” Dilly’s hologram declares. “Any man who criticizes your baking investments while hoarding overpriced sticks is showing you exactly where hispriorities lie.”
“And it’s not with you, sweetie,” Nadine adds. “A real man buys you the stand mixer AND tells you you’re brilliant for wanting it. Standards, ladies. Have them.”
The crowd erupts in cheers and applause.
“Speaking of standards,” another audience member shouts, “how do you know if a man is worth keeping?”
“Well,” Nadine says, settling into her element, “does he make more money than you? Because if not, what exactly is he bringing to this relationship besides dirty laundry and strong opinions about your cooking?”
“Financial security is attractive,” hologram Dilly agrees. “But so is emotional availability. Can he listen to you complain about your day without trying to ‘fix’ everything? Because honey, sometimes I just want someone to nod and pour me wine, not reorganize my entire life.”
“Although,” Nadine interjects with a sly grin, “if he’s going to reorganize your life, make sure he starts with your investment portfolio. A man who can balance your books AND your emotional needs? That’s husband material.”
A younger woman near the back raises her hand tentatively. “What if you’re dating someone amazing, but he’s broke? Like, really broke. Should love be enough?”
The crowd goes quiet for a moment before both women burst into laughter.
“Oh sweetheart,” Nadine says, wiping her eyes. “Love doesn’t pay the mortgage. It doesn’t fix the car when it breaks down, and it certainly doesn’t fund your retirement. You can love someone from a distance while they get their financial house in order.”
“Love is wonderful,” hologram Dilly adds. “But have you ever tried to love someone while you’re both eating ramen noodles for the third night in a row because neither of you can afford groceries? Romance dies fast when you’re fighting over bills. Ask me how I know about death.”
The crowd breaks out in hysterics over that one. So very morbid. But sort of delightfully so.
“Now, I’m not saying marry for money,” Nadine clarifies. “But marry someone who understands that money matters. Someone who has goals, a plan, and enough ambition to execute both. Poor can be temporary if he’s working toward something. Lazy and poor? That’s a lifestyle choice, and you don’t have to sign up for it.”
The crowd nods sagely, with several women taking notes. I’m starting to wonder if I should be taking notes too.
“One more relationship question!” someone calls out. “How do you know when it’s time to get married?”
“When his credit score is higher than his golf handicap,” Dilly’s hologram responds immediately.
“And when he buys you kitchen appliances without being asked,” Nadine adds. “The day a man shows up with a new KitchenAid mixer just because he thought you’d like it is the day you know he’s marriage material.”
