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Three pairs of eyes watched her hopefully. She knew she should say no.
“They need routine, Jason.”
“I know, but just this once.” He leaned across and kissed her, which basically meant she no longer had any say in it, then held out his arms to the girls and carried them back to bed.
Ruby’s voice carried from the bedroom. “Daddy, can I sleep with my new fire engine?”
Beth walked to the kitchen and checked the casserole.
She stirred, adjusted the seasoning, breathing in the cinnamon and spice scent of the warming winter dish. It was one of her mother’s recipes and it reminded her of home.
She loved this time of year. She found the lead-up to the holiday season almost as seductive as the holiday itself. She loved gazing into brightly lit store windows, enjoyed ice-skating in Central Park and their annual trip to the Christmas tree lighting at the Rockefeller Center. The previous year they’d taken the girls to see the New York City Ballet perform The Nutcracker. For once, Ruby had stopped wriggling, hypnotized by the dancers whirling round the stage. Melly had been enchanted, utterly lost in the world of Sugar Plum Fairies and glistening snowflakes, all her princess fantasies coming true to Tchaikovsky’s romantic score.
Even Jason, who had previously declared he’d rather stand in Times Square buck naked than go to the ballet, had admitted the evening had been magical. What he was really saying, of course, was that watching the faces of his children had been magical.
I love these moments, he’d said as they’d walked along snow-dusted streets to a small bistro with fogged windows and fairy lights that had been bathed in so much festive atmosphere Ruby asked if Santa would be arriving soon.
Beth loved those moments, too, but the difference was that Jason only had those moments.
He had the bathed, excited, scrubbed, fantasy version of parenthood.
She had the reality.
Was it wrong of her to want more?
By the time Jason joined her, she had laid the table and warmed the plates.
“They’re growing up fast.” He’d taken a quick shower and changed out of his suit. Dressed in jeans and a black sweater, he looked younger. Less the ambitious creative, and more the man she’d married. “Something smells good. What are we having?”
“Lamb. I was going to cook it for Hannah tomorrow, but since she isn’t coming—” She shrugged and picked up one of the plates.
“Hannah’s loss is my gain.”
Beth spooned rice onto a plate, added a generous portion of casserole and passed it to him. She didn’t want to think about Hannah.
“How was your day? How was the pitch?” She held on to her own news, wanting to pick exactly the right moment.
“It was good.” He waited for her to serve herself and then picked up his fork. “Sam called me into his office today.”
Sam was Jason’s boss. “What did he want?”
“Conrad Bennett is leaving.”
“Leaving?” Beth toyed with her food. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in his office gossip, but all she could think about was the phone call she’d had earlier. “But he’s Chief Creative Director. Why would he leave?”
?
?He’s setting up his own agency, and you know what that means—”
“He’s taking you with him?”
“No. Better than that.” Jason picked up his wine and raised the glass in a toast. “I’m being offered his job.”
Beth gave a squeal. “You got a promotion?” She ignored the little voice in her head shouting out that this conversation was supposed to be about her career, not Jason’s.
“In the last year I’ve brought in more clients than any other member of the agency.”
She wondered what the promotion would mean for her and felt guilty for being selfish. “Chief Creative Director. I’m proud of you.” And she was. Was it wrong that she was also a teeny bit jealous?
