Good Old-Fashioned American Values

Constance Wilkinson was hosting dinner that night, and there was still too much to do.

Her lengthy to-do list was color-coded, highlighted, and underlined to emphasize importance, marked diligently and carefully in her cursive script. It was also—conveniently—missing.

“Honey, have you seen my to-do list?” Constance called out to her husband. He was sitting on the couch, next to the large stack of trash and miscellaneous items she had cleared off the kitchen counter to make room for her latest filming session. The TV was playing loudly.

He didn’t respond.

She eventually found it on a side table in the kitchen. It was hidden underneath an empty milk carton (bought from the store, although she never would have admitted it) and next to a half-eaten box of cereal (from a brand she had publicly denounced on multiple occasions). Her kitchen was in disarray, as it always was during the process of filming. She didn’t have time to clean the entire thing—God forbid, with three children and her husband running around—but it was sufficient to move everything out of the view of her phone camera.

She had just completed her video tutorial for her strawberry lemonade shortcake, which she was planning on serving at the party tonight. It was cooling proudly on her kitchen island, accompanied by its sad, burnt sisters that she had unsuccessfully baked earlier that day.

Constance would have to be clever in editing that video. She had looked prettiest while baking the first cake, so she’d have to stitch together those shots with her final successful bake in a convincing manner. But that was a problem for later, as she was hosting dinner that night and there was still too much to do.

Her to-do list was as follows, written out in her impeccable hand and smelling like her perfume:

CONSTANCE’S TO-DO

• Take chicken out of freezer to defrost (this was highlighted in orange for VERY IMPORTANT, but it had a clean line through it)

• Bake strawberry lemon cake for dinner (also in orange)

• Empty out meat freezer in garage (this was in red and underlined for MOST IMPORTANT, MUST GET DONE TODAY)

• Finish filming strawberry lemon cake video (orange)

• Clean stain on carpet in TV room– hot water + salt + vinegar (red)

• Complete garlic bread and brussels sprouts for dinner (orange)

• Clean and set table for dinner tonight (orange)

• Make cookies + snack for the twins after camp (orange)

• Set up charcuterie board (orange, with a small note on the side inquiring how much farm-fresh brie was still in the fridge)

• Move toys off front lawn into basement closet (orange)

• Edit GRWM for Saturday’s pool trip with Jacklynn (this was in green– not very important)

• Deep clean cutlery– kitchen knives, etc. (red)

Constance smiled and crossed out both entries relating to her strawberry lemon cake. There was always a deep sense of satisfaction in getting things done.

Her guests—four couples from Church, two with children Jacklynn and Maddox’s age—wouldn’t be arriving until 6:30 p.m., and it was barely 2 p.m. The twins wouldn’t be back from Bible camp until 3 p.m., and Ashleigh was asleep upstairs. She had time. She wasn’t just on schedule; she was ahead of schedule.

“Darling?” Constance called again to her husband. He didn’t respond. “Have you cleaned off the porch and lawn? I wanted that to be finished before the guests arrive.”

She waited for a second and sighed deeply when she heard nothing. Just another issue for her to deal with herself.

“I really wish you would help with this,” she said, her normally sweet voice tinged with annoyance. She undid her half apron and slipped out of the heels she had been wearing to trade for a sensible pair of flats. “You work hard, but I work hard too. And before you say anything: don’t forget how much revenue I got from my Instagram reels last month.”

She peeked her head into the TV room to check on him. The carpet was still a mess. She’d need to take care of it soon before it stained, and her husband would be of no help.

“And here I thought you always had something to say.” She placed an accusatory hand on her hip. Her husband continued to watch the game on the TV, ignoring her. His dark curly hair was tied up messily behind his head, his beard untrimmed, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a stained muscle tee. He was in no state to entertain guests.

“We’re going to have to get you changed before the guests arrive,” she reminded him. “But I’ll clean up the lawn, since you appear in no state to do so.”

It was one of those hot Midwest summer weeks where the weather hadn’t quite made up its mind on what it wanted to do. It was nearly 90°F without a cloud in the sky, yet the forecast called for chilly rainstorms the next day. Constance wondered whether they should bring in the porch furniture after dinner tonight.

“Connie!”

Andrea Lombardi was out on her front lawn with her youngest Leo, waving frantically.

Oh God—she was coming over to talk.

Although they had lived across the street from each other for nearly a decade, Constance did her best to avoid interacting with her. After all, the Lombardi’s were Catholic and ate far too much processed food for Constance’s taste.

“Andrea, how lovely to see you!” Constance lied. She began to collect Ashleigh’s wooden, colorless toys out of the grass, hoping that Andrea would see that she was busy and leave her alone. Her neighbor gave her no such grace.

“You know, I’m always so impressed that you get Ashleigh to play with those,” Andrea commented as she stepped onto their manicured lawn. “If it isn’t bright and plastic, Leo won’t touch it.”

Constance thought about the locked closet in the back of her daughter’s room, filled with tantalizingly polychromatic playthings. The curtains were always pulled tightly closed before she pulled them out for her child’s enjoyment.

“Yes, well—Ashleigh is very advanced for her age. We do everything we can to cultivate a natural learning space to cultivate a healthy mindset, free of potentially toxic influences.” Buzzword. Buzzword. Buzzword.

Andrea blinked at her.

“Anyway,” her neighbor continued, the sentiment clearly lost on her, “I heard you were having a party tonight. I saw it on your Tok-whatever account. What gives– no invite for us?”

Constance smiled, doing her best to push down her rising irritation. Of course Andrea would be stalking her accounts since she had no real job. “Oh, it’s just a small get-together. I would have invited you and Marco, but I’m simply exhausted after all the cooking I’ve done. I don’t know if I have the energy to cook for two more—can you forgive me?”

Andrea laughed and swatted the air nonchalantly, just like Constance knew she would. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Just promise you’ll have us over for drinks next week.”

“Of course!” Constance said, just as she had said a dozen times before. She had been promising to have the Lombardi’s over for drinks for years.

Constance finished picking up the toys from the lawn and turned to return to the house when Andrea called out to her. “By the way Connie—you’ve got a stain on your dress. Have you been cooking? I see you doing a lot of that in your videos.”

She looked down at her dress– it was one of her favorites to wear when making content, with a shirred bodice and big puffy sleeves embroidered with little flowers and bunches of blueberries. There was a big stain on the skirt, which was always a risk when wearing a half apron.

“Oh dear,” she said. “Yes, I was making a strawberry lemonade cake—I hate how the compote stains. Thank you for letting me know.”

Constance went inside. Now she would have to change, on top of everything else.

When the twins arrived home, Constance had cookies in the oven. They had gotten used to having chocolate chip cookies as an after-camp snack after she had tested out a new recipe for her account, featuring all-natural ingredients and topped with sea salt.

The cookies that were baking had come from a package, the empty yellow wrapper tossed carelessly on the counter.

“Oh, Maddox!” Constance was coming down the stairs as the two entered through the front door. She was putting in a pair of pearl earrings that matched her fresh ivory and baby-blue dinner dress. “I need your help with something. Jacklynn, dear, would you mind getting the cookies out of the oven once they’re done? There are also a few knives in the sink that I need you to deep clean, if you can.”

Her daughter left for the kitchen and Constance turned to her son. “Darling, I’m going to need your help emptying the meat freezer in the garage and moving your father into it. We can deal with him after dinner, or tomorrow. I heard it’s supposed to rain.”

Maddox nodded. “We don’t need to do any filming for this, right?”

“No, dear. We need to keep this one a secret. The asshole was cheating on me with the tart down the street.”

“Okay, mom. No problem.”

As he headed for the TV room, Constance crossed off the corresponding entries on her to-do list. There was always a deep sense of satisfaction in getting things done. And she was hosting dinner tonight, and there was still so much to do.