Odd Mom Out

by Jane Porter

“When you have three kids, what’s one more?” she answers with a laugh.

  Eva isn’t as sad about me leaving now that she’ll be staying at the Hunters’. I, on the other hand, take the separation much harder.

  In my hotel room, I sit with my laptop and work on my notes for the Trident meeting in the morning. It’s nearly two New York time, but that’s only eleven West Coast time, so I force myself on.

  Yet as I type, inputting changes into the graphs and spreadsheets, I can barely concentrate.

  I don’t want to be here.

  I want to be home.

  I want to be with my daughter.

  It’s reached the point that it’s too much. I’m so tired of saying good-bye to her. So tired of not having enough time with her. The experts are wrong when they say it’s not about quantity time, it’s about quality, because I need the quantity, too. I need to be with her more. I literally, physically, miss her.

  My body, arms, heart—all of me misses her.

  Soon, I tell myself. As soon as we hire another ad guy. As soon as the business is back in a solid position. As soon as I can get rid of this nightmare Trident account. . . .

  My second night in New York is worse than the first. I call Shey, thinking we can get together, but she’s taken her brood to France for an impromptu ski trip. I think about all the other friends I used to have here, but frankly, I’m not feeling that sociable.

  The problem is, I’m not merely lonely, I’m homesick for Bellevue. I’m homesick for my daughter and my home and my life there.

  I don’t want to be in a hotel. I want to be in my own house, tucking Eva in at night and making her lunch in the morning. I want her to bound into my office at the end of her day. I want to see her face and her eyes and her smile.

  I want to be a mother again.

  To distract myself, I open up my laptop, pull up the Google toolbar, and type in “Luke Flynn, BioMed, Bellevue,” and wait.

  It takes less than a second to deliver me not just to the BioMed Web site, but to Luke Flynn’s biography. And there he is. Luke Flynn, co-founder and CEO, Harvard grad, sponsor and organizer of the huge annual bike rally Bikes-to-Tikes.

  I exhale and sit back, every nervous, anxious emotion alive and well inside of me.

  I’m still staring at his photo when my phone rings.

  “Bad time?” Luke asks when I answer.

  I’m so glad to hear his voice, I could hug myself. “Not at all. I was just thinking of you.”

  “Good things?”

  “Very good.”

  “So what are you doing?”

  “Working on my computer,” I answer, guiltily clicking off his company Web site. Not that he knows I’ve been staring at his photo, but still. “What about you?”

  “Just trying to figure out my evening plans.”

  ”Do you have a business meeting?”

  “No, I just got out of one.” He pauses. “Feel like dinner?”

  If only. “Sure,” I flash back. “Where should I meet you?”

  “How about downstairs in the lobby in twenty minutes.”

  “Dude, I’m in New York.”

  “Dudette, I am, too. I’m overnighting in New York before I head to Dublin tomorrow morning.”

  “You’re in New York.”

  “I’m just a ten-minute cab ride away.”

  “Then get over here!”

  He laughs again, that great, sexy rumble of his. “Baby, I’m on my way.”

  When Luke steps into the hotel lobby, New York suddenly feels like home all over again. He’s bundled up, a heavy coat, a scarf, gloves, with a dusting of snowflakes on his shoulders and head.

  “Hi, stranger,” I say, hugging him and smiling up into his face.

  “You’re the stranger,” he grouses. “Every time I come home you’re jumping on a plane.”

  “I’d rather not be traveling. I’d rather be home.”

  “Then let’s do something about this Trident account of yours.”

  Laughing, I just hug him again. It’s so wonderful to see him.

  “Will you be warm enough?” Luke asks, indicating my leather coat.

  I nod. “I used to live here, baby doll.”

  “So you like to remind me.”

  With Luke’s arm wrapped around me, we head to a Greek restaurant around the corner from my hotel. Luke and I both love Greek food, and we order an appetizer sampler, just so we can enjoy a taste of everything.

  Over the flaming saganaki, Luke says bluntly, “I think we need to coordinate our business trips. This going two weeks at a time without seeing each other is for the birds.”

  I nod. I couldn’t agree more.

  “How much longer will Trident need you here in New York?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. Frankly, I don’t think they need me here at all. Their VP of sales doesn’t know what he’s doing and keeps calling these all-hands-on-deck meetings. It’s a huge waste of time, never mind their money.”

  “Is there a way to get out of it?”

  “Not for a year.”

  “Can you hand it over to someone?”

  “I’m trying.”

  He raises his beer glass. “To finding a replacement,” he says.

  I clink my glass with his. “I’ll drink to that.”

  After dinner we walk back to my hotel, the snow still falling, the streets quieter than usual, the street noise muffled by the snow. We’re so far from home, Bellevue a whole world away, but it’s right being here like this together.

  “Come to my room,” I say as we reach my hotel lobby. “Come to my room and stay the night with me.”

  “My flight—”

  “Push it back.” We stop by the elevator, and I wrap my arms around him, tilt my head back to look up into his face. “I want you, need you, to stay.”

  He kisses me. “Done.”

  I laugh as the elevator doors open. “I closed the deal?”

  “Closed it?” he mocks, stepping into the elevator with me. “Hardly. We’ve only just sat down for negotiations.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The happiness doesn’t end the next day. Luke announces that he’s pushed his flight to Dublin back a day, and I call in sick to work. We start the day with a huge breakfast at a great deli, and then Luke accompanies me while I do some Christmas shopping for Eva and my parents. Laden with bags and packages, we take a carriage ride through Central Park, and then after an afternoon nap and a long, lazy bath together, we have a romantic dinner at Tao and then later drinks in the dark, intimate lounge at the Mark Hotel.

  We sleep together again, Luke sharing my hotel room and bed for the second night, and it’s the first time we’ve ever been together for twenty-four hours straight, and it feels so natural. It feels the way it should.

  “You’re not sleeping,” Luke’s voice sounds in the dark. He rolls onto his back and brings me on top of him. “Work worrying you?”

  It’s dark, but I know his face well enough now to know it in the dark. “I hate that you’re leaving tomorrow.”

  I feel his hand in my hair. He loves my hair. “I’ll be back in Seattle in less than a week.”

  “I just would love a week where we could see each other every day. I know it sounds greedy, but I feel greedy right now. I feel like time is always so short and we’re both always so busy.”

  “We both have careers,” he says.

  Is that why we don’t see more of each other? Because we both work? I’m not so sure, but I don’t want to argue.

  The next morning, Luke leaves for Dublin, and after a day spent at the Trident office I catch the six p.m. flight back to Seattle.

  I’m upgraded to first class thanks to all my recent miles, but even the relative comfort of first class doesn’t ease my mind.

  I don’t want to be single anymore. I don’t want to have to do it all. I want a real relationship with Luke, one of those that look so achingly traditional: man, woman, and child all living in the same house.


  Please God, let Luke feel the same way.

  Back in Bellevue, I work even more hours than I did in November and early December. I also catch cold after cold. Thank God Luke’s traveling or I would have gotten him sick, too. Eva catches a cold once, but she’s better in days, whereas I drag myself through the weeks feeling dead on my feet.

  Dad talks to me about taking a sabbatical from work. I can’t do it—it’d kill us financially—but I wish there were another way. I wish I weren’t spread so thin. I wish I could just enjoy Eva more.

  Luke calls me from all over the world. He’s in Beijing one day, Tokyo the next. Then it’s Perth, Sydney, Auckland. He offers to fly me out to see him in New Zealand. “It’s gorgeous here, Marta. It’s summer, and absolutely beautiful.”

  I’m tempted, but I’ve passed my cold on to Allie, and Robert is stressed out of his mind.

  “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.”