“It’d be good for you, too,” he adds. “You could use warm weather, and a break.”
He’s right. I could. But I can’t. “Next time,” I tell him, praying there will be a next time.
Luke is finally heading home, but I fly out the same day he’s supposed to fly in. I nearly cry with frustration as my airplane takes off. It’s only a day-and-a-half trip to Los Angeles, but it feels long enough.
I’m home again, just a day and a half later, and I try to call Luke, but he’s wrapped up in meetings. I take the evening off, but Eva’s out, she had plans.
I wander around my house feeling ridiculously lonely. I miss everyone. It’s the holidays, and instead of feeling happy or grateful, I feel stressed out of my mind.
But in just five days you’ll be in Whistler, I remind myself. In five days you’ll have a full week off, a week to do nothing but relax with Eva.
I’m taking Eva to Whistler for skiing the week between Christmas and New Year’s. We’ve already got reservations at the Fairmont Hotel, and it’ll be fantastic to get away for a whole week. Seven days no work. Seven days no desk, no computer, no cell phone. I swear.
Thinking of no cell phone reminds me of Luke, though, and while I don’t want to work for a week, I do want to see him. I even casually mentioned Whistler to him during one of our last phone calls, suggesting that he join us for a few days, possibly hook up with us New Year’s Eve.
Restlessly, I turn on the Christmas tree lights. Dad and Mom came over a few weeks ago to help put the tree up. Dad and Mom don’t do a tree anymore, but Mom still enjoys the festive lights.
I touch one of the red Christmas bulbs and then a gold one.
Christmas is almost here, and although I did some shopping in New York, there’s still more to do. I haven’t bought Eva anything for her stocking, and I still need to go through our winter ski stuff to see what works and what Eva’s outgrown.
It’s too much, I think, staring at the tree. Everything is just too much.
I’m still staring blankly at the tree when my cell phone rings. I pick up the phone, hoping it’ll be Luke. Instead it’s Frank Deavers.
I haven’t talked to Frank since he told me in October that Freedom wouldn’t be going with Z Design. I’ve never been nervous taking Frank’s calls, but my stomach’s full of icy butterflies now.
“Hey, Frank,” I say, answering his call and trying to sound casual.
“Have I caught you at a bad time?”
“I’m just thinking about hitting the mall. I still have more shopping to do.”
“Is Eva there?”
“No, she’s at the ballet. Friends took her to The Nutcracker.”
“That’s nice.”
It is, but I would have rather taken her to The Nutcracker. I would have rather taken her to holiday tea. I would rather be the fun mom than the mom who works too much and doesn’t smile enough and never has any energy.
“What’s up?” I say, forcing myself to speak.
“We’ve pulled the Super Bowl spot.”
I close my eyes, not wanting to hear details about an ad campaign that isn’t mine, so I keep silent, not sure what Frank wants me to say.
“There’s been some delays, and we’re not ready to start taking orders. It seemed premature to start an advertising blitz.”
And still I say nothing. I gave them a great ad campaign and they passed on it, so I don’t really understand why Frank is calling me now. He’s not saying that they’ve changed their mind about ad agencies. He’s not saying they want our ideas. He’s actually not saying much of anything.
“Why this friendly Freedom Bikes update?” I ask, barely able to mask my bitterness.
“I don’t know how you’re going to feel about this, so I’ll just throw it out there. You might even want some time to think about it. But we’ve come up against some problems, and it’s been decided by the exec committee that we made a mistake. We want you, need you, involved.”
“But you already signed a contract with Lowell Bryant.”
“We did. But we’re willing to break it.”
“That’ll cost you six figures.”
“Or more.”
The icy butterflies are warming, heating up, but I’m nervous, very, very nervous. Because I can’t handle another account, not now, not when we’re all stretched too thin.
“I don’t know,” I tell him, because I don’t know. I need to figure out how we could take on one more thing when it’s just Robert, Allie, and me handling some serious accounts.
“Would you take the Christmas holidays and at least think about it? We don’t need an answer till January third. That will give you two weeks,” he persists.
I’ve known Frank too long to play games, so I take a breath and consider how I want to answer. “I took it pretty hard, Frank.”
“It was business.”
“And this is business still.” After hanging up, I hide the packages in my closet before dialing Luke’s number. I want to know what he thinks. I want to know what he’d do.
I reach Luke, he’s just on his way to the gym, but he sits in his car and talks to me for a few minutes about the offer I’ve just received.
“So what do you want?” he asks when I finally stop talking.
I shake my head. I wanted the Freedom Bikes account, badly, but they burned me, and we signed Trident and lost Chris, and it’s been hell ever since. “I’d love to work with Freedom,” I answer cautiously. “They’re here in Seattle. They wouldn’t require travel.”
“But . . . ?”
“I can’t add another client, not without replacing Chris, and I’ve spent six weeks interviewing people without much luck.”
“But you said you found a couple of people, only that they were out of your salary range.”
“That’s true. By nearly ten to twenty thousand dollars.”
“So up your salary range. Pay and hire great people.”
“What about Robert and Allie?”
“Are they traveling? Are they doing the presentations? Are they going to be the one on the road, or will they be at your office here?” He knows the answer. He knows how we work.
Luke pauses, adds, “If it makes you feel better, give everyone raises, but remember, a salary should be commensurate with the job demands.”
Hanging up, I know he’s right. I could afford to pay more for a senior partner, someone to take over the Trident account, which would leave me here at home with Eva.
Christmas Day is spent quietly at our house. Mom and Dad spend most of the day with us, although Mom naps in the afternoon for several hours.
Dad and I have another slice of my homemade carrot cake while Mom sleeps.
“I’m glad you came over, Dad. It was really nice having you here with us.”
“It’s different not celebrating Christmas at our house, but it doesn’t make sense anymore.”
“No, I know. When I first moved to New York, Christmas felt strange there, and now that we’re back here, it’s strange again. All these changes.” I twirl my fork on my plate, collecting crumbs and cream cheese frosting.
“You look tired,”
Dad says gruffly. “Sound tired, too. I hope you’re not going to be on the road as much as you’ve been these past couple months.”
I glance toward the living room where Eva is stretched out on the couch, reading a new book that Luke gave her for Christmas. “It’s been hard,” I admit.
“Have you hired someone new? I know you’ve been interviewing to replace that loser who quit on you on Halloween.”
Trust my dad to call it as he sees it. “There are actually two people I like. A man and a woman.”
“But the job has lots of traveling—”
“A woman can travel, Dad.” Sometimes I think he’s just one generation away from our ape ancestors. “Women can do whatever men do. We’re smart enough, strong enough, and we communicate a hell of a lot better.”
“She’s not a mom, is she?”
“No. She’s not married.”
He makes a rough sound. “She will be.”
“Someday. Maybe. But maybe not. Look at me.”
He makes an even more scornful sound and leans forward, one arm resting on the dining room table. “You like to think you’re so independent, but you’re not that much different from anyone else.”
I lick the cream cheese icing from the prongs of the fork before pushing the plate away from me. “Meaning?”
“You need people. Even if it’d kill you to admit it.”
It would kill me to admit it, but he’s right. I do need people. I need more time with people I love and less time on the road. I need to be with family, friends, those who let me know I’m good and cherished. Loved.
Dad’s absolutely right. I do need people. I just don’t know how to let others know it. Something else I’d never admit, but I’m tired of raising Eva on my own. More and more, I think she’d benefit from a two-parent household. I’d benefit from a two-parent household.
I look up into my father’s weathered face. The face of a man who has lived much of his life outside, on ski slopes and boat decks and golf courses. “You know, Dad, if something happened to me—”
“Nothing’s going to happen.”
My mouth curves. I don’t believe that horseshit anymore, and neither does he. “Eva would go to Shey,” I continue, “but I’d want you to spend as much time with her as you could. Weekends. Holidays. Whatever you could. Whatever worked.”