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“Do you think I did?”
“I wasn’t there. But it sounds to me as though Noah had a logical explanation.”
“I suppose.”
He frowned thoughtfully. “Are you thinking that Noah has reverted to the habits he had while living a bachelor’s life?”
Knowing the admiration and respect her father had for Noah, she was reluctant to recite a litany of complaints against him, which, when spoken aloud, would probably sound like whining at best and paranoia at worst. She could also appreciate that using her father as a sounding board placed him in an awkward position. He wasn’t only Noah’s father-in-law, he was his employer.
Daniel had brought Noah into their publishing house three years ago because he had proved himself to be the smartest, shrewdest publisher in New York, save Daniel himself. When Maris and Noah’s relationship became more social than professional, Daniel had expressed some reservations and cautioned her against an office romance. But he had given his approval when Noah, after being with Matherly Press for one year, confided in Daniel his plans to marry his daughter. He had even offered to resign in exchange for Maris’s hand. Daniel wouldn’t hear of it and had embraced Noah as his son-in-law with the same level of enthusiasm as he had hired him as vice president and business manager of his publishing house.
For almost two years, they had successfuly managed to keep their professional and personal roles separate. Airing her wifely grievances could jeopardize the balance. Daniel wouldn’t want to say too much or too little, wouldn’t want to choose one side over the other or trespass into marital territory where a father-in-law didn’t belong.
On the other hand, Maris needed to vent, and her father had always been her most trusted confidant. “In answer to your question, Dad, I’m not thinking anything that specific. I don’t believe that Noah’s having an affair. Not really.”
“Something’s bothering you. What?”
“Over the last few months, I don’t feel like I’ve had Noah’s full attention. I’ve had very little of his attention,” she corrected with a rueful little laugh.
“The champagne fizz of a honeymoon doesn’t last forever, Maris.”
“I know that. It’s just…” She trailed off, then sighed. “Maybe I’m too much a romantic.”
“Don’t blame yourself for this stall. It doesn’t have to be anyone’s fault. Marriages go through periods like this. Even good marriages. Dry spells, if you will.”
“I know. I just hope he isn’t getting tired of me. We’re coming up on our two-year anniversary. That’s got to be some kind of record for him.”
“You knew his record when you married him,” he reminded her gently. “He had a solid reputation as a ladies’ man.”
“Which I accepted because I loved him. Because I had been in love with him since I read The Vanquished.”
“And out of all those women, Noah returned your love and chose to marry you.”
She smiled wistfully, then shook her head with self-deprecation. “You’re right, Dad. He did. Chalk this up to hormones. I’m feeling neglected. That’s all.”
“And I must assume some of the blame for that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve vested Noah with an enormous amount of responsibility. He’s doing not only his job, which, God knows, is demanding enough, but he’s begun taking up the slack for me as well. I’ve slowed down, forcing him to accelerate. I’ve suggested that he hire someone to shoulder some of his duties.”
“He has difficulty delegating.”
“Which is why I should have insisted that he bring someone else on board. I’ll make a point to see that he does. In the meantime, I think it would be a good idea for the two of you to go away together for a few days. Bermuda, perhaps. Get some sun. Drink too many tropical drinks. Spend a lot of time in bed.”
She smiled at his candor, but it was a sad smile. He’d said practically those same words last year when he’d packed them off to Aruba for a long weekend. They’d gone in the hope of returning pregnant. Although they’d made every effort to conceive and had enjoyed trying, they hadn’t been successful. Maris had been greatly disappointed. Maybe that’s when she and Noah had started drifting apart, though the rift had only recently become noticeable.
Daniel sensed that he’d touched on a topic best forgotten, or at least left closed for the present. “Take some time away together, Maris,” he urged. “Away from the pressures of the office, the zaniness of the city. Give yourselves a chance to get back on track.”
Although she wouldn’t say this to Daniel, she didn’t share his confidence that spending time in bed would solve their problem and set things right. Their disagreement this morning had ended with sex, but she wouldn’t call it intimacy. To her it had felt that they were doing what was most expedient to end the quarrel, that they had taken the easy way out. Their bodies had gone through the familiar motions, but their hearts weren’t in it.
Noah had defused her with flattery, which, in hindsight, seemed ingratiating and patronizing. She’d been genuinely angry, which wasn’t an ideal time to be told how beautiful she was. Falling into bed together had been a graceful way to end an argument that neither had wanted to have. She hadn’t wanted to accuse him further, and he hadn’t wanted to address her accusations, so they’d made love instead. The implications of all that were deeply troubling.
For Daniel’s benefit, she pretended to think over his suggestion of a tropical vacation, then said, “Actually, Dad, I was thinking of going away by myself for a while.”
“Another good option. To the country?”
Frequently, when the city became too claustrophobic, she went to their house in rural western Massachusetts and spent long weekends catching up on paperwork and reading manuscripts. In the Berkshires, without the constant interruptions imposed on her in the office, she could concentrate and accomplish much in a relatively short period of time. It was natural for Daniel to assume that she would choose their country house for her retreat.
