"The hell I will! This is my bedroom."
"Fine!" She got off the bed and stalked to the door. "I'll leave."
"Vicki," he growled.
She was too angry to care. Pulling open the door, she headed to the spare bedroom. She felt him behind her and then his arm wrapped around her waist. "Don't be melodramatic," he said, his tone arrogant enough to make her want to scream. "Let's go to bed. We'll talk about it later."
How many times had they said that in their marriage? Frustrated by his unwillingness to even attempt to see things from her perspective, she wrenched herself away. "I want to be alone." Walking into the spare bedroom, she lay down on the bed, facing the wall.
Of course he followed, laying down beside her stiff form. She heard him sigh. "I'm sorry about the lunch crack."
She shrugged, aware that the reason it had hurt so much was because he was right. It was why she'd started looking at those brochures for further education. She did nothing while he worked all day. "I don't want to be that woman." The words broke out of her. "It makes me so angry that you see me that way."
"I'm sorry, honey. I really am."
"Yes well, it's true, isn't it? What else am I possibly qualified for? Nothing."
"Come on, Vicki…"
"Forget it, Caleb." She wasn't ready to talk to him about this. Why had she even brought up the subject? "Just stop pushing and let me think."
The body wrapped around hers filled with tension. "So you can talk yourself into something else as equally idiotic as our separation?"
Her simmering temper ignited. "You think me wanting to work outside the home is idiotic?"
"That's not what I said."
"It sure sounded like it. Poor, stupid Vicki. Maybe if you'd supported my needs instead of trying to make me be what you wanted, I wouldn't have had to ask for a separation."
"Now it's all my fault."
Not feeling particularly rational, she said, "Yes."
"Jesus." The arm around her refused to move but she felt his anger. "I'm too exhausted to do this right now."
"Fine."
She felt him fall asleep minutes later, while she lay awake for what seemed like hours, temper, frustration and angry jealously churning in her gut. The truth was a floodlight shining into her eyes. Her husband might have slept with Miranda—might still be sleeping with her—but it was the firm that was his true mistress.
How could Vicki fight that?
* * *
Seven
« ^ »
The next morning, Vicki made Caleb some coffee and passed him his toast, munching on a piece of bread as she worked. She wasn't feeling particularly wifely but it had seemed petty to make breakfast for herself and ignore him, notwithstanding the tension that thrummed between them like a high-voltage wire.
Caleb ate quickly and stood. Picking up his coat, he headed out but stopped before he got to the front door. "I better get an early start—I had to let a lot of things slide yesterday."
Not happy at the reminder that the firm had a grip on him stronger than any woman's, she forced herself to say, "Have a good day," as she walked him to the door. Still feeling bruised from their altercation, she was finding it very hard to act as though everything was fine.
He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "I'm not ignoring what you said last night. I'll be home for dinner but I might have to go back to the office afterward." His eyes met hers. "I can't change the habits of a lifetime overnight."
Her heart warmed. At least he was willing to try to see things from her point of view. She didn't mind if he worked late sometimes, but the problem with Caleb was that he was so driven that sometimes could easily turn into always. She'd learned that the hard way. "Think of it as practice for being home at bath time and bedtime." If he was willing to try, so was she.
The strain on his face lessened at the acceptance in her voice. "Do you want to go out for dinner?"
She shook her head. "I'd rather spend some quiet time alone. You?"
"Home. I'll aim to arrive around six."
"I'll be waiting."
After he left, Vicki quickly tidied up the house, haunted by the same issue that had so angered her the night before. She still had no idea what she could do for self-improvement. It depressed her how unqualified she was to be anything other than a society wife.
She knew how to mingle, how to be the perfect hostess, how to make people laugh and feel good about themselves, how to create contacts for Caleb and ensure the right people met at dinners or parties—she even knew how to soothe the worst of tempers without making a big deal of it. What job did that qualify her for?
The harsh jangle of the phone interrupted her pity party sometime around mid-morning. She picked it up, surprised to find Caleb on the other end.
"I've set up an appointment for you to talk to someone," he said, sounding harassed. "She'll come by the house at eleven."
"Who?"
"Her name's Helen Smith. I've got to go, sweetheart. One of our major client's sons got picked up for underage drinking. Imbecile. If he wanted to drink, why didn't he ask his father? The man has a wine cellar the size of Texas."
"I didn't know you handled things like that."
"We don't, except as a courtesy to our commercial clients. Everyone else is tied up today so I have to make the court appearance on junior's behalf in twenty minutes."
He hung up without further goodbyes. Surprised and mystified, she saw that she had half an hour before her guest's arrival. Deciding her jeans and pale pink shirt would do, she set about preparing a fresh pot of coffee and some quick biscuits. She was pulling them out of the oven when the doorbell rang.
She opened it to find a woman of around Caleb's age on the doorstep. Dressed in jeans and a navy sweatshirt, she had long auburn hair pulled into a ponytail.
"Ms. Smith?" Vicki held out her hand.
The other woman shook it. "Just Helen. You must be Victoria."
"Please come in."
In the living room, Vicki served coffee and biscuits before saying, "I'm sorry, but my husband didn't tell me much…"
Helen nodded. "He sounded very busy when he called. I'll explain. I met Caleb a year ago when I approached Callaghan & Associates for free legal representation in a messy case involving one of my clients."
Vicki knew that taking on pro bono work was an accepted part of Caleb's practice. He said it kept everyone honest. "I see."
"Kent Jacobs handled the case, but I believe your husband oversaw it." Helen put down her cup and loosely linked her hands together on her knees.
"I'm afraid I still don't see where this is going."
"I'm involved with several charities," Helen explained.
Vicki's heart sank. Was this what Caleb thought she should be doing—sitting on some charity board giving away his money?
"We have a position up for grabs. To be honest the pay sucks, but it is a paid job."
Her attention snapped back to the redhead.
"We're looking for a dedicated fund-raiser for all the charities under an umbrella organization called Heart, someone whose sole focus will be to continuously raise money for us."
Vicki nearly stopped breathing as she recalled her own list of accomplishments.
She knew how to mingle, how to be the perfect hostess, how to make people laugh and feel good about themselves, how to create contacts and ensure the right people met, and how to soothe the worst of tempers without making a big deal of it.
Hope had scarcely started to blossom when she noticed the look on Helen's face. "What is it?"
"I'm going to be honest." The woman's expression was professional. "I'm here as a courtesy because of the help Callaghan & Associates gave us. This job is flexible but it's full time." She frowned, then seemed to opt for brutal truth. "I'm leery of offering it to you. Frankly, it's not a position created to help a bored wife fill in a few hours. We don't need you to organize a thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner for us, then stand back and bask in the applause. We need our fund-raiser to constantly generate funds, to come up with new ideas month after month."
Caleb, Vicki realized, had really dropped her in it this time. This was serious, nothing like a ceremonial board position. She wanted it so much she could hardly breathe but Helen was right. She had no experience or qualifications. Could she really do it? Then she remembered why Helen had come to see her in the first place. Because of Caleb. That he thought she was capable of this meant a great deal.
"I understand your concerns," she told Helen. "There's something else you need to know. I'm pregnant." She was a lawyer's wife—she knew it wasn't something she had to disclose, but she wanted every single fact on the table.