by Jane Porter
Lucy’s nodding. “We’re all called to different things, and one isn’t better than another. They’re just different.”
“Different but equally valuable,” Lori sums up.
A week later, Lucy calls me on my cell, but as I’m working I don’t check for messages until my lunch. Her message is so shocking, I call her back immediately.
“I wasn’t sure I heard you right,” I say as soon as she answers the phone. “Tell me again.”
“Peter and I are going to counseling. Together.” Her voice is excited and more than a little hopeful.
I hear so much happiness in her voice that I’m almost afraid for her. I don’t want her hurt, and I don’t want her disappointed. “What does this mean?”
“We’re going to see if we can work things out. Maybe get back together.”
I’m silent, trying to digest this surprising turn of events.
“Taylor, it’s a good thing. I love him. I love my family.”
“But Thanksgiving weekend when we had coffee at Tully’s, you said he’d been so mean—”
“He was hurt and angry.” She takes a deep breath. “And he’s still hurt and angry, but we have the kids to think about.” Her voice drops an octave. “We both love them so much, Taylor, neither of us can stomach having them only part-time.” Now her tone turns persuasive. “Be happy for me, Taylor, please.”
“I am.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
She’s silent for a moment. “I know it might not work, Taylor. I know we might not be able to pull it off, but I’ve got to try. I owe my kids that much.”
“You owe it to yourself, too.”
We say good-bye, and I hang up. I’ve just put my phone back in my purse when it suddenly rings. It’s Lucy again. I pick up.
“Oh, Taylor, I can’t believe I forgot. But you’ll never believe what I heard today.” She takes a deep breath. “Your Yarrow Point house is for sale.”
“What?”
“It’s true. I drove past it to make sure. There’s a sign in front. Your house is back on the market.”
“Why?” I ask, thinking it’s been only two months since Monica and Doug moved in.
“I don’t know, but if I hear anything, I’ll call you right away.”
We hang up again, and this time I just leave the phone lying on my desk.
My house . . . my house . . .
My house could be mine again.
My house could be mine again.
I close my eyes, picture us the way we were, the beautiful sunsets, the barbecues, the little dock where the girls jumped off to swim in the lake.
We could buy our house back. We could pick up our lives, be Nathan and Taylor Young with a gorgeous house and three model-perfect daughters . . .
Then I remember. We can’t afford the house. We can’t afford a million-dollar house, much less four or five million.
The excitement turns to disappointment, and then the disappointment transforms into quieter acceptance. Acceptance isn’t as fun as excitement, but it’s not so bad, either.
I’m just wondering if I should even bother to call Nathan to tell him about our house when once again my cell phone rings. It’s Nathan. How weird. He must have read my mind.
“I was just thinking about you,” I say, answering.
“How’s your day?” he asks.
I look at the stack of receipts and expense reports in front of me. Marta and Mel have been traveling a lot lately. “Good.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am. A little.” Allie enters the studio and nods at me. I lift a hand in greeting. “But it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
“Feel like a date night Friday night?”
“Are we talking a real date or phone sex?” I tease, trying to be funny.
I get a laugh. “A real date,” he says, pausing. “I’m being flown in for an interview. One Friday morning, and another Friday afternoon.”
“How? What? When did this all happen? And are they good companies?” I’m tripping over my tongue. I can’t get my questions out fast enough. “Would you want to work for either of these companies?”
“Yes. I’d love to work for either of them.”
“Nathan, this is wonderful. This is . . . unbelievable. Who are the companies? Would I know them?”
He laughs. I hear eagerness in his voice, and optimism. It’s been so long since he’s had anything to be really excited about. “Microsoft, and a company called BioMed. So how about a dinner date Friday? Somewhere nice, you and me?”
Unwillingly, I flash back to all the years we ate out, all those thoughtless, careless meals in expensive restaurants. Fifty-dollar bottles of wine. Appetizers and salads and lobster at market price and dessert along with an after-dinner drink.
Filet mignon, crab-stuffed mushrooms, pan-sautéed Chilean sea bass . . .
“I’m happy eating at home, honey,” I answer firmly, because I don’t want to think about what we lost anymore, but what we have. And that’s love.
Courage.
Grit.
Balls.
I sit taller in my chair. “Home’s great, baby, really.”
“That may be so, but I’m taking you out. It’s time I took you out—”
“Nathan, we don’t—”
“Please, Taylor, don’t fight me on this. We can afford this. We can spring on one night out.”
A night out would be fun. My lips curve wistfully. “Okay,” I concede.
As soon as I’m off the phone, I Google BioMed. They’re located in Bellevue (awesome), they’re a huge international company with offices in Australia, Germany, London, Dublin, and Japan (impressive), and their founder and CEO is a thirty-nine-year-old billionaire named Luke Flynn.
Luke Flynn.
I sit back in my chair. Marta’s Luke.
My excitement over the two interview possibilities fades. I don’t think Nathan knows that BioMed’s founder is Marta’s Luke. I don’t know if I should talk to Marta about Nathan’s interview. I’m worried she was behind the interview, worried that she went to Luke. It’s possible that Luke has connections at Microsoft, too, and helped set up both interviews.
If he did, what does it mean?
As the day goes on, I’m increasingly troubled. I’d love nothing more than to have Nathan home with a great job with a local corporation. I’d love to have him home, making great money, would love for him to be happy again. But how will he feel when he finds out that Luke Flynn, CEO and president of BioMed, is Marta’s Zinsser’s soon-to-be husband?
Will he feel awkward?
Worse, will he feel pitied?
Thursday morning, the same day Nathan’s set to fly home for his Friday interviews in Bellevue, I get a phone call from Marta’s friend, TV personality Tiana Tomlinson. Tiana’s flying into town Sunday morning to throw a surprise bridal shower for Marta on Sunday night. She hopes I can attend and would love it if I could put together an invite list for her of people Marta would want at the shower.
I promise to e-mail her an invite list within the next couple of hours. Since Marta’s not in the office at the moment, I confer with Allie and Mel to get their input on whom Marta would want at the shower.
Nathan will still be in town Sunday night, so I won’t need a sitter for the girls, but I will need to get a gift. I use my lunch to head to the mall to see if I can’t find an appropriate present. The shower doesn’t have a theme, it’s just a chance for everyone to let Marta know how happy we are for her, but still, I want a great gift, the perfect gift. Marta’s been so good to me. I want her to know how much I appreciate everything she’s done for me.
At the mall, I start at Nordstrom but can’t find what I’m looking for (maybe because I don’t know what I’m looking for), so I leave and walk the rest of Bellevue Square without finding anything that screams “perfect present.” In the end, I return to Nordstrom and buy a beautiful Italian negligee and robe for her honeymoon.
It isn’t until I
’m back at the office that I remember that being pregnant, Marta might not want a sexy negligee.
Frustrated with my inability to be unique or creative, I type up the list of names for Tiana and double-check the phone numbers and e-mail addresses before sending them off.
As I push send, I can’t help but think back to the beginning of the school year, a year that started so promisingly with Patti co-chairing the auction with me and great teachers for the girls. I didn’t know then that Nathan had been having some midlife crisis and was still blissfully unaware that our personal lives were in the toilet bowl.
But the toilet bowl taught me lessons, and I’m far stronger, and maybe happier, now than I was then.
Nathan arrives home at dinnertime. The girls and I fight the traffic heading south to the airport to pick him up and then stop at Rainforest Café at the South Center Mall for dinner. Tori loves the Rainforest Café. It’s her favorite restaurant on earth, and suddenly dinner with Nathan is a festive celebration with loud elephants, noisy gorillas, thunderstorms, and birdcalls.
The restaurant lights flash and the thunder booms, and Tori shrieks with anticipation. Nathan looks across the table, catches my eyes, and smiles.
“I feel good about tomorrow,” he says as the thunder and rain finally let up.
“That’s great,” I answer.
I want him to get a job here. I want him to be home with us. But I also know that he needs the right job and job offer, one that will build his confidence and not destroy it.
Friday, Nathan is up early to prepare a little more for his interviews. While he sits at the dining room table researching the companies on the computer, I get the girls up and out the door for school.
Nathan calls me while I’m driving Tori to preschool. “Luke Flynn,” he says so bluntly that I know he’s figured out the Marta connection. “Marta’s fiancé, right?”
“Yes.”
He’s silent a long time, and then he exhales hard. “Did you put this together?”
“No.”
“Did she?”
I’ve asked myself that a dozen times easily. “I don’t think so,” I finally answer. “Would you not want to interview with them if she did?”
“I don’t know.” At least it’s an honest answer. “I guess I just have to interview and see.”
Marta is in and out of the office all morning, and I can’t seem to find a quiet moment to ask her if she had a hand in Nathan’s job prospects. I’m not even sure I should ask. Would it be so awful if she did put in a positive word for Nathan? Would it be so awful if something good happened to us?
Just before I leave work at one, I get a call on my cell. Mrs. Slutsky, who had originally promised to stay and watch the kids tonight, is canceling. Apparently she’s needed somewhere else, and she has to do that instead of be at our house.
I’m disappointed that Nathan and I won’t have our special dinner out, but at the same time I’m a little relieved that we’re not spending money we don’t have to spend. On the way home I call Nathan to give him a heads-up, and he’s remarkably upbeat. “Sounds like it was a good day,” I say.
“Very good,” he agrees. “I actually ended up having a third interview today, meeting with the executives from Hal-Perrin Technology at lunch.”
“Aren’t they a rival of the McKees?” I ask.
“They are, and they’re doing a lot of international growth right now. Lots of exciting things happening with them.”
“Their office is in downtown Seattle?”
“Their headquarters, yes.”
“So what do you think? Any one interview stand out? Is there one job you’d want more than the others?”
He takes a moment to consider his answer. “You know, I think I could be happy working for any of them.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. They’re all great companies. They’d all be wonderful opportunities.”
I hang up as I’m almost home and want to hear the rest in person. Nathan decides to barbecue for us tonight, so despite the freezing temperature outside, he heads to the store, picks up some steaks, and then grills for us on the little charcoal Weber in our backyard.
I make twice-baked potatoes and a Caesar salad and set the table using a bunch of candles to make our minuscule dining room as pretty as possible.
Sitting at the table eating, the girls chatter a mile a minute, and I glance up to see Nathan smiling at Brooke. It’s his old smile, his real smile, the one that made me fall head over heels in love with him.
I know I told him in December we’d be okay, but now I know it.
We’re going to be okay. In fact, we’re going to be better than ever.
Sunday morning, Nathan gets an e-mail from Omaha that he has an early Monday meeting, so two hours later I’m driving him back to the airport. The girls are upset the entire drive, begging him not to leave. I keep it together until we pull up to the departure curb at the airport.
Fighting tears, I get out of the car and hug Nathan on the curb.
“It’s only a couple of weeks until I’m back for Marta’s wedding,” he says.
“Still.”
He hugs me harder, then lets me go. “I’ll call you when I land.”
“Please do.”
“Love you.”
“Good. I need it.”
Back at the house, I call around trying to find a baby-sitter so I can attend Marta’s shower.
Jemma hears me on the phone and comes to stand next to me at the dining room table. “I can baby-sit tonight, Mom.”
I cover the phone and look at her. “Honey, you’ve never baby-sat your sisters before.”
“Only because you’ve never let me. But I’m almost eleven, and lots of girls my age baby-sit. I can do it, too. Just keep your cell phone with you, and I’ll call you if there’s a problem.”
“You wouldn’t be scared?”
“Being with Mrs. Slutsky is scarier than being on our own.”
I laugh, hard, and wrapping Jemma in my arms, I give her a hug. “I guess we can try. I’m only down the street in downtown Bellevue.”
“Mom, knock it off. I’ll be a teenager soon.”
The surprise bridal shower starts at five-thirty p.m. at Daniel’s Broiler, which sits on top of the Bellevue Place Towers. Tiana’s managed to reserve one of Daniel’s small private dining rooms, and between Jon, the florist downstairs, and Oh Chocolates, they’ve transformed the restaurant’s private room into a lush bower of red roses. Elegant black-and-cream cards are at each plate, and on top is scripted “In Celebration of Marta & Luke,” with tonight’s special five-course menu printed below.
I’m curious to meet Tiana Tomlinson. I’ve watched her on television for years. She’s the news anchor for a show that’s on at the same time as Inside Edition, and she’s even more beautiful in person than on the TV screen. She’s small, maybe five feet three, and fine-boned, with a heart-shaped face, dark hair, deep dimples, and gold brown eyes. I’m stunned to learn she’s my age. She looks easily ten years younger.
Allie, Mel, and Susan all show for the shower, along with Lucy and Lori Johnson. Luke’s secretary arrives, too, as she’s become good friends with Marta over the past year and a half.
Marta arrives last. Luke actually walks her to the door, and when she sees everyone inside, she just stands there confused. “Tiana?” she says, frowning as she takes us in. “What are you all doing here?”
“Celebrating you,” Tiana answers, moving forward to give Marta a hug. “Now say good-bye to Luke, as this is a girls-only shower.”
Marta’s still stunned. “Shower?”
Tiana laughs at Marta’s expression. “Yes. You are getting married soon, aren’t you?”
Lucy sits next to me at the table. She, like the rest of us, is fairly star-struck by Tiana.
“She’s so normal,” Lucy whispers. “Well, for being a celebrity.”
I look across the table, see Marta and Tiana giggling like two sixteen-year-olds, and smile. “I guess th
ey’ve been best friends since high school.”
“That’s nice, isn’t it?” Lucy watches them for a few seconds, then turns back to me. “I just remembered. I found out why Monica and Doug are selling your house.”
“They’re not getting divorced, are they?”
Lucy shakes her head. “Doug’s sick. Prostate cancer. They decided to scale back while Doug goes through treatment.”
I’m sorry to hear that anyone’s ill, much less Doug, who is really a very nice guy. “That’s terrible.”
“Pete’s really upset, too. It’s made him realize we’re not going to live forever. As he said last night, maybe it’s better if we counted our blessings sooner rather than later.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Marta and Luke’s choice for a winter wedding at the Banff Springs Hotel is beyond romantic. I’ve never been there, but after poring over the Fairmont Hotel’s brochure, I can’t wait to go.
It’s a short flight from Seattle to Calgary, where we rent a car and drive an hour to Banff. Although it snowed heavily the last few days, the roads are clear and the majestic mountains glitter white and bright against the late morning’s clear blue sky.
If we kept driving instead of taking the Banff exit, we’d hit Lake Louise and then Jasper. Instead we head into Banff, where the downtown is just ten blocks long and five blocks wide. It’s bordered by mountains, mountains, a little river, and more mountains.
The Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel is even more magical than its setting. It’s a huge turn-of-the-century hotel, with so many turrets and towers that Nathan nicknames it Hogwarts.
Marta has arranged the schedule so everyone is free to ski during the day and then meet for evening activities. The first day, Nathan and I ski until I can’t go down the mountain one more time. After returning to the hotel, we change out of our ski stuff and into jeans and T-shirts, heading with our swimsuits for the hotel’s heated pool and spa.
Later tonight we’ll meet up with everyone for drinks and dinner, but now we soak in the bubbly hot tub, letting the jets work away the kinks and aches.
“That was so fun today,” I say, leaning against the rock wall. “The conditions were perfect.”
