The phone rings: it's Lynette, as predicted. Lynette, wearing the dreaded orange Scavoria tee, lies that the kids are all totally ready for school (they're still partially pajama-clad), and Mrs. McC agrees to come over early to get the kids off to school. Lynette hangs up and says her goodbyes to Tom, who's set up on a hospital bed in the living room. Lynette has scheduled a bunch of interviews today for potential managers down at the Scavoria, and Tom annoyingly insists that she conference him into the meetings so that he can grill the candidates over the phone. He also harps about adding "goat cheese and mushroom" to the specials for today, which actually sounds not half bad, though maybe a little too depressingly bland to the eye. It's clear that Tom's annoying and ill-informed meddling has been going non-stop for days now, and Lynette is clearly at the end of her rope -- not that she had a whole lot of slack in that rope to begin with. Mrs. McC arrives, and Lynette quietly hands her the house phone, whispering instructions to hide it if and when Tom asks for it.
Edie, looking showered and mostly recovered from her brush with bad sex, sits on her couch, barefoot and breezy in a cute French blue babydoll dress. Travers arrives with a cold beer for her, and Edie clucks approvingly: "No foam this time!" Travers: "I tipped the glass, just like you told me to." Edie, encouragingly: "I think somebody's ready to salt his first margarita glass." In spite of myself, I'm amused by his underage drink wrangling skills -- even though I went to school with kids who grew up with party moms, and it turns ugly pretty fast. (If you've ever had to wrangle a keg nozzle out of the wrinkled hand of a friend's past-prime mother at a high school rager, then you know what I mean.) Also, the child actor (the unfortunately porno-named Jake Cherry) who plays Travers is surprisingly not awful, considering that he does kind of have the look of one of those shit-eating Welch's Grape Juice kids. Travers plunks himself down on the couch and wonderingly asks what Carlos meant when he described Edie as "bad in bed." (Travs overheard him on the phone.) Edie nearly chokes on her beer, but improves that "bad in bed" refers to a lack of skill in the bed-making department. Travers very nicely offers to tell everyone that she's actually really great in bed, and Edie gives a funny little terrified laugh. "No, no. If you really want to help Mommy, just top off her breakfast," she says, handing him her beer. I give Edie's sassy Mae West routine maybe five more years before it rots into something more along the lines of Florence Henderson's harrowing Unknown Woman in Shakes The Clown. Actually, make that two years.