Neither of them had been able to accept defeat, and yet, sadly, there didn’t seem to be a solution for them. People who were in love should bring out the best in each other, but it was the opposite with them. She detested the woman she became when she was with him.
Sitting in her small office at the French Café, she told herself it was time to make a decision. They couldn’t go on like this. Either they ended it for good or they figured out how to make it work. Winter was willing to do whatever it took—if only she knew what. And how. The problem was that they both kept doing the same things, fighting over the same issues. She’d read somewhere that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over, but expecting a different result. That must mean they were both crazy.
Yes, it was time to decide. “Make it or break it” time. Pierre’s e-mail message was simple and succinct, with no indication of his feelings.
Winter wasn’t sure how to answer. They should meet. They should talk. They had to decide whether to try yet again or end it entirely.
Deep in thought, she didn’t immediately hear Alix knock at the half-open office door. Alix knocked again, and Winter turned to see her standing there, holding a mug. She gestured her in. Alix’s movements were cumbersome, reminding Winter that there were only a few weeks left before her due date. Winter was proud of Alix and Jordan, and she envied them, too. They’d survived the miscarriage last year without losing hope or faith. Now their first baby was about to be born.
Jordan had refinished a used crib and set it up in the nursery this past weekend. Alix had been knitting for weeks, as had everyone at A Good Yarn.
“Winter?” Alix said hesitantly. “I thought you could use this,” she said, offering her the mug of coffee.
“How nice. Thanks.” She reached out a hand for the mug and managed a half smile.
Alix lingered in the doorway. “Is everything all right?”
“Sure. What makes you think it isn’t?” she asked with forced brightness.
“Well, for one thing, you’ve been sitting in here for the past thirty minutes, doing nothing but staring at that computer screen.”
“Oh.”
“Is the café not doing well?”
“Actually, revenue is up fifteen percent compared to last year at this time.” The croissants had always been popular. And starting in May the café had added a ten-minute carryout lunch, which consisted of homemade soup and a freshly baked herb scone. That had proved to be highly successful; many office and retail employees ordered lunch and were then able to walk to the nearby park and eat there or meet friends. Winter planned to continue the quick lunch throughout the year.
“Is it Pierre?” Alix asked softly.
Reluctantly, Winter nodded. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I love him, but…but we can’t seem to make our relationship work, no matter how hard we try.”
Alix stepped into the office. “I don’t know if you’re aware that Jordan and I went through a rough patch when we were first married.”
Winter didn’t, but pretended she did.
“My own parents never provided a very positive example of how married people should communicate, and I’m afraid I wasn’t always as good a wife as I wanted to be,”
Alix admitted sheepishly.
Winter remembered that Alix had made several costly mistakes at work before she’d become pregnant—mistakes like leaving out a key ingredient. Winter had talked with her, and Alix had taken their talk to heart and made an effort to improve. Winter had never once regretted keeping her on staff.
Alix gazed down at the floor. “I hate to tell you this, but I was the biggest shrew ever. I had a habit of not telling Jordan what I wanted, because I believed he should already know. He was my husband and, if he loved me, he should automatically be aware of my needs. Well, not surprisingly, that wasn’t too effective.”
Winter looked at her thoughtfully. Her own problems with Pierre came down to communication, too. Jordan was a minister, and she wondered if that accounted for his greater willingness—or perhaps ability—to work out the difficulties in his marriage.
“This pregnancy hasn’t been easy, either, especially after we lost the first one. I’m still not confident about the kind of mother I’ll be. All my fears seemed to coalesce into this continuous bad attitude toward Jordan. I can’t believe he put up with me.”
She smiled and glanced up. “Don’t get me wrong. Jordan’s no saint and he contributed to his share of arguments, but he never let things get out of hand. No matter how unreasonable I became.”
“So what changed?” Most of this was news to Winter. Alix was a private person and if something bothered her she kept it to herself. Winter recognized that there was a reason Alix had chosen to bring up such a personal subject now.
“I realize I might not be a perfect mother, but I’m determined to be a good one. I love my baby. It’s amazing to me that I can love him this much and he has yet to be born. Jordan feels the same. He’s so excited. I wish you could see him. Every night he puts his hand on my belly and prays for the baby and then kisses him good-night.”
“That’s sweet.” Winter knew Alix was confiding a part of herself she never had before. “You’re telling me this because you think your experience can help Pierre and me?”
Alix pulled out a chair and sat down. “After the morning sickness passed, I felt dreadful about the way I’d treated Jordan. He put up with my moods and was gentle and caring through the worst of it.” She grimaced in obvious embarrassment. “One morning after I threw up I blamed him for everything. I even called him a bunch of names and told him our love life was over. I didn’t mean it and felt horrible about it after I got to work.”
Winter stifled a laugh and leaned back in her chair.
“I called Jordan, but he was out with his father. After I finished here, I went over to my in-laws’ house and Susan—my mother-in-law—and I had a long talk. Susan’s become like a mother to me. She listened to everything. The advice she gave me might help you and Pierre, too.”
At this point, Winter was willing to listen to just about anything. She straightened again, her interest piqued.
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
“I know you and Pierre are meeting next week.”
She frowned. “Who told you that?”
Alix pointed to the office door. “It’s on your calendar, along with the work schedule for July.”
“Oh.” Winter must have posted it there three months ago.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to say?”
Alix asked.
Winter shook her head. “It seems like mission impossible. I love him and at the same time I don’t think anyone can upset me faster than Pierre. He’s wonderful one minute and completely irrational the next.”
“Aren’t we all?” Alix asked and laughed.
Winter agreed, but true as that was, it did nothing to improve the situation.
“When I spoke to Susan about my bad moods and the way Jordan so often seemed to disappoint me,” Alix continued, “she told me what she did as a young married woman. It really helped us.”
“Then tell me,” Winter urged. “Please. I’m desperate.”
Alix nodded. “Okay. She got a notebook and made a list of all the things her husband did that irritated her on one half of a page. She left the other half blank. I’ll get to that in a minute.”
“A list.” Winter could see where this was going and wasn’t sure it would make any difference. She knew Pierre’s good traits and his bad ones, too. They seemed about equal.
“What does Pierre do that bothers you the most?”
His bad habits were in the forefront of her mind. She’d dwelled on them far too often to have forgotten. “Well, for one thing, he can be moody after work. If he has a bad day, he takes it out on me. He gets upset at the most innocent comment and becomes completely unreasonable. He’s like a little kid who doesn’t get his own way.” Just thinking about it upset her all over again
. “Then ten minutes later, it’s as if nothing happened and I’m supposed to forget everything he said and did.”
“I’ve been there with the irrational moods,” Alix said.
“Write that down,” she instructed, pointing to the pad in front of Winter. “But first draw a line down the middle of the sheet.”
She turned to a blank page and divided it, then dutifully wrote out her complaint. “I know it’s petty, but it really upsets me that he eats standing up. After I’ve cooked him a fantastic meal, the least he can do is sit down at the table with me and savor every bite. Really, is that too much to ask?”
“Put that down, too. Anything else?”
This was only the beginning. “As a matter of fact, yes. He’s the most untidy person I’ve ever met. He leaves stuff wherever it falls and then accuses me of hiding it from him.”
“That’s a good one. Put it on the list.”
Winter was really getting involved in this now. “He thinks he’s a better chef than me.”
“No way!” Alix was appropriately horrified.
“Okay, so he attended a fancy culinary institute, but my training was excellent, too, even if it was from a local school.”
Alix pointed to the pad and Winter wrote it down in bold capital letters.
“Anything else?”
“Oh, yes.” She went on for three or four minutes, adding items to her growing list.
“That’s it?” Alix asked.
“Isn’t it enough?”
“I want to make sure you think of everything.”
Chewing on the end of her pen, Winter shook her head.
“No, that’s it.”
She looked at her list. Articulating Pierre’s faults, seeing them all in one place, made her recognize anew how unsuited they were. The situation seemed hopeless, which disheartened her even more.
“I suppose you want me to list his good qualities now.”
At the moment, Winter couldn’t think of a single one. Not after making this lengthy list of his flaws, which seemed to outweigh everything else. How could she love a man who was completely unreasonable, short-tempered, inconsiderate and a slob?
“I don’t want you to list his good points, because I think you’ll have a difficult time finding any,” Alix said. “I know that’s how I felt when I was talking to Jordan’s mother.”
Winter nearly laughed out loud. “You’re so right.”
“Instead, do what Susan did and write down how you react when Pierre behaves the way he does. Start with the first one. What happens when he’s moody and unreasonable at the end of the day?”
Winter stared at her friend. “What happens?” she echoed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Do you get moody and unreasonable back?”
“I guess so. If he snaps at me, I snap at him. I don’t deserve to take the brunt of his bad moods. No one does.”
“Write that across from your point about his mood swings.”
Winter did, and remembered the argument they’d had in late March, which had led to the current separation. Pierre had been upset about some incident at the restaurant where he’d been working. Winter couldn’t even recall what it was. He’d come over to her place that evening and growled at her and she’d growled right back. Their disagreements usually began that way. She’d look forward to seeing him all day and, five minutes after he arrived, they’d be yelling at each other.
“What do you do when he stands while he’s eating the meal you’ve prepared?”
“I…” Winter slowly wrote it on the pad. “I insist that he sit down.”
“What about the messes he makes?”
“I’ve bribed and pleaded and begged him to pick up his own stuff. I am not his maid and I am not his mother.”
“Exactly.”
Winter made another notation on the second side of the pad.
“Okay, read me what you’ve put as your reactions to the first few things that bother you about Pierre.”
“Okay.” Winter read them aloud. “I get angry back at him. I demand that he sit down, and I bribe and plead with him.”
Alix crossed her arms and nodded. “Okay, Pierre upsets you, and you become angry, demanding and manipulative. Do I have that right?”
Hearing it put that way was like seeing something from a completely different vantage point and Winter suddenly realized the role she’d played in their difficulties. “Yes, you’re right.” Hard as it was to admit, she had to agree.
“The problem is, I don’t know what to do about it.” She sighed. “He just makes me so mad. Maybe I’m not helping the situation but…”
“If Pierre’s cranky and upset,” Alix said, “you should let him rant and get it out of his system. That’s what Jordan did with me. He listened sympathetically and, when I was finished, he gave me a hug.” She grinned. “Well, it wasn’t always like that. We both had to work at it. After speaking to Jordan’s mother, I saw that my reactions contributed to our troubles. Our conversation that day changed our marriage. I’ll always be grateful to Susan.”
“Your mother-in-law is a smart woman,” Winter said. No wonder Pierre couldn’t get away from her fast enough. She harped, pouted, retaliated. It wasn’t a pretty picture. As for his own outbursts, Pierre was seldom angry for long. Once he’d vented, it was over for him—but not for her. Perhaps things could change if her reactions to him did.
“He eats standing up out of habit,” Winter murmured.
“He tastes food in the kitchen at work and he’s on his feet, so it’s natural for him to do it at home, too.”
“What can you do to get him to sit down?”
“Well, I know that getting angry doesn’t work. Perhaps if I tell him the meal’s ready and politely ask him to sit with me.”
“You could try that. Or you could stand and join him,”
Alix suggested.
Winter laughed, and for the first time since their separation, she felt real hope.
“How’d your mother-in-law figure all this out?”
Winter asked.
Alix shrugged. “Her own experience. That, and because she’s talked to so many young wives with similar problems.”
“Sounds like you married into a great family.”
Alix nodded in agreement. “Jordan’s a good husband and he’ll be a wonderful father.” Alix relaxed in her chair and folded her hands over her stomach. “Talking with Susan helped me confront my fears about motherhood, too. Like I said earlier, I might not be a perfect mother, but I intend to be the best one possible.”
“I think your baby’s fortunate to have two loving parents.”
Winter’s compliment produced a huge smile from Alix.
“Thank you, Winter.”
“And thank you for these ideas. Hey, if you ever decide to change careers—not that I want you to—you could be a counselor.”
Still smiling, Alix left the office, and Winter got up to close the door. She returned to her computer and sent Pierre a message saying simply that she looked forward to their meeting next week.
Then she began to plan her first stand-up dinner with Pierre.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The week passed quickly. I was busy and so was Macy. She had a couple of radio spots that paid the bills for all her animals’ vaccinations. She was also helping her friend Sherry Franklin at a local craft show. Sher was a potter who relied on Macy at these events; one day soon, I hoped to see her in action, charming hordes of people into buying Sher’s cat-shaped mugs and bowls. Macy had done some work on the mural, but I didn’t mind that its completion was delayed by these other commitments. It just meant I’d have her at the clinic longer. In any case, we’d managed to talk every day and see each other three separate evenings. Thursday, the night before the awards dinner, Macy showed me the dress she planned to wear. She sat me down on her sofa, and with all three cats around me, one on each side and Snowball on the back of the sofa, I waited patiently for the grand unveiling. Sammy rested at my feet, his
chin on my shoes. It was a characteristic posture of his and one that, according to Macy, signified his approval of me.
When Macy appeared I nearly slid off the sofa. In a word, Macy’s dress was stunning. I’m not much for fashion and I couldn’t name a designer if my life depended on it, but I knew this dress was out of the ordinary. She’d purchased it at a tremendous discount while modeling for a catalog shoot.
Seeing Macy in that dress took my breath away. “I’ll be the envy of every man there,” I told her. “You could walk on the red carpet at the Oscars and not be out of place.”
Macy blushed with pleasure.
At one time I’d dreaded this whole outing, but now I regarded it with a pleasurable sense of anticipation. I’d be proud to have Macy with me tomorrow evening. Ritchie had purchased tickets for himself and Steph, and Patrick would be at my table, as well as his wife, Melanie. So would our third partner, Yvette Schauer, and her husband. This would be the ideal opportunity to introduce Macy. And of course, I had the ring for later. I pictured Macy and me toasting each other with champagne, imagined slipping the diamond on her finger…
Macy stroked the dress. “It hardly cost anything and I bought it on faith that one day I’d have somewhere special to wear it.”
Apparently, buying things on faith was a habit of hers.
“Faith, not trust?” I asked.
“No, faith,” she insisted. “The way I figured it, if this dress came to my attention, then there’d be an occasion when I’d need it.” She fanned out the skirt at her sides. “Now I do have an occasion to wear it. Same with the dog food.”
“Dog food? What’s the connection between this dress and dog food?”
“There isn’t one. But you see, about a month before I found Sammy, I happened upon a closeout sale on dog food and bought a twenty-five-pound bag. Naturally I didn’t know at the time that Sammy would turn up in my life, so when he did, I was prepared. Well, sort of.”
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