Mommy Tracked

by Whitney Gaskell

  The restaurant was housed in a converted cottage. The walls had been painted a deep lacquered red and were covered with ornate gold-framed mirrors. Each of the four small dining rooms was lit by a crystal chandelier, candles gleamed in silver candelabra, and the round tables were dressed in starched white linens. The three women sipped glasses of chilled white wine.

  “No, she shouldn’t!” Grace argued. “You don’t dump someone over a little misunderstanding.”

  “Technically, it’s not dumping when you’ve gone out on only one date. It’s not returning a phone call. And I don’t think that four fiancées counts as a misunderstanding,” Anna said. She consulted her menu again. “Now, remember, you can order whatever you like, but everyone has to get something different.”

  “I’m having the pan-fried conch and the rainbow trout,” Juliet said, closing her menu and pushing it off to the side.

  “I was going to have the conch,” Grace complained.

  “Too late. I called dibs.”

  “Okay, fine, as long as you’ll give me a bite.”

  “Everyone has to give everyone a bite. I need to taste everything,” Anna interjected.

  “Well…maybe I’ll just have a dinner salad,” Grace said, frowning as she looked over her menu.

  Anna and Juliet both stared at her.

  “What?” she said. “I told you, I’m on a diet.”

  “Order a real meal,” Anna said.

  “But I’m not that hungry.”

  “You don’t have to eat it all, but I need to try as many dishes as possible,” Anna said.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll get the crab cakes and the wood-grilled venison,” Grace said. “But I’m not going to eat it.”

  They placed their order with the waitress—Anna ordered the roasted beet salad and miso-glazed tuna—and then, their wineglasses refreshed, turned their attention back to Noah and his bevy of ex-fiancées.

  “At least, I hope they’re all exes,” Anna said gloomily. “It would be just my luck if he was still engaged to one of them. I knew he was too good to be true.”

  “I think you’re being too hard on him,” Grace said.

  “Oh, please. Like you wouldn’t freak if you found out Louis was engaged four times before you met him,” Juliet snorted.

  “Well. Yes. But, then, Louis and I started dating when we were only twenty-one, and I’d known him since we were ten, so it would have been freakishly weird if he’d already been engaged four times. How old is Noah?”

  “I’m not sure. Thirty-seven, thirty-eight. Somewhere around there,” Anna said.

  “So he’s probably been dating for twenty-plus years. Four serious relationships over that long a period of time isn’t abnormal,” Grace said sensibly. She picked up a piece of bread from the basket, dipped it in olive oil, and started to take a bite. But then she suddenly jumped as though she’d been shocked and quickly dropped the bread back on her plate.

  “What’s wrong?” Anna asked.

  “Yeah, why are you being so twitchy?” Juliet asked.

  “I’m not,” Grace said. “I just forgot for a minute that I gave up bread.”

  “Well, I haven’t.” Juliet picked through the basket and helped herself to a slice. Grace watched her hungrily. Juliet noticed and frowned. “Stop staring at me.”

  “I’m not staring at you,” Grace said huffily. She pushed her bread plate away and turned back to Anna. “Did he tell you what happened with his exes?”

  “No. Right after he dropped the bombshell, Charlie woke up crying. I was worried that seeing a strange man in the house would scare him, so I asked Noah to leave,” Anna said.

  “Are you going to see him again?” Grace asked. “I think you should. Give him a chance to explain.”

  “Well, we already made plans for a second date. We’re going to have dinner.”

  “Good! Over dinner, ask him in a roundabout way what happened with his ex-fiancées. Just be subtle about it.”

  “Like: ‘Did you dump them all at the altar?’” Anna asked teasingly.

  “Or, ‘Do you have a sexually transmitted disease they found out about?’” Juliet suggested.

  “Oh, my God, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Anna exclaimed. “Do you think that’s it?”

  “No,” Grace said.

  “Yes,” Juliet said at the same time. “But it could be something minor, like crabs.”

  “You are so gross,” Grace said.

  Anna looked a little pale. “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” she said.

  “Look on the bright side. At least he wasn’t scared off by your rash and that awful haircut,” Juliet said.

  “Juliet!” Grace exclaimed, and kicked her under the table.

  “Ouch! What?”

  “Your rash looks much better,” Grace assured Anna. “You can hardly notice it at all.”

  “Thanks.” Anna sighed. “But my hair is a different story.”

  “No, it looks cute all slicked back like that. You look like one of the Robert Palmer girls,” Grace said brightly. “All you need is a guitar and a little black dress.”

  “I don’t know why you didn’t stop Jean Luc before he did that to your head,” Juliet said.

  “Obviously I didn’t know it was going to be this bad,” Anna said.

  “That’s why I don’t go to him anymore. I switched salons after the time that Jean Luc was in a snit because he’d found out Sex and the City was going off the air. Remember? He tried to give me Farrah Fawcett hair, circa Charlie’s Angels. You know: wings.” Juliet shuddered. “You should go see Marta at the Seashell Salon. She might be able to do something with those weird bangs he gave you.”

  “Juliet!” Grace said again, her voice exasperated. “Are you completely incapable of tact?”

  “Would you rather I lied?” Juliet asked.

  “Yes!” Grace said. “It’s called being nice.”

  “I don’t do nice,” Juliet said, with a philosophical shrug.

  “No kidding!”

  “Speaking of being nice, I need a favor,” Anna said. “It’s for Chloe. She didn’t have a baby shower—she doesn’t know many people in town—so I thought we could throw her a postpartum shower. We could just stop by with some gifts and a little cake and maybe a bottle of champagne. Nothing big, just the three of us. I stopped by her house the other day when I was out walking Potato, and I thought she seemed really down. I think she could use some cheering up.”

  “Absolutely!” Grace said.

  “Absolutely not,” Juliet said. “I also don’t do baby showers.”

  “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. And I promise we won’t play any of those annoying shower games or anything silly like that,” Anna said.

  “I think it’s a fabulous idea,” Grace said.

  “I don’t. Count me out,” Juliet said.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she shows up,” Grace said to Anna.

  “No you won’t,” Juliet said. “I was present at the birth. I saw the baby crown, for Christ’s sake, and I’ve been having posttraumatic stress flashbacks ever since. I think I’ve discharged my duty on this one.”

  Grace just fixed her with her best stern-mother look. It was the look she saved for when her kids were really acting up, the one that caused her daughters to instantly cease and desist all naughty behavior. It was a look so powerful, even Juliet was no match for it.

  “Okay, fine,” Juliet acquiesced with a sigh. “But you owe me big.”

  “Hey,” Patrick said, yawning as he entered the kitchen.

  “Good morning,” Juliet said.

  Patrick planted a sleepy kiss on her cheek and then went to pour himself a mug of coffee.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  It was Saturday morning, so early the girls weren’t awake yet, but Juliet was already dressed. She was standing by the kitchen door, keys in hand, while flipping through yesterday’s mail.

  “The office,” Juliet said briefly. She opened the American Express bill and
scanned the charges. “Why did we spend ninety dollars at Omaha Steaks? Oh, right, your father’s birthday.”

  “It’s Saturday,” Patrick said. The obvious irritation in his voice caused Juliet to look up from the bill in surprise.

  “I know. That’s why I’m wearing jeans instead of a suit,” she said.

  “The twins have a soccer game this morning. You promised them you’d be there,” Patrick said. His face looked stiff and angry, and he folded his arms over his chest.

  “And I will be. The game isn’t until eleven, right? I’m just going to pop into the office, work on my time sheets, and then I’ll meet you over at the field,” Juliet said.

  Patrick’s face softened a bit. “Oh. Okay, then. I just don’t want them to be disappointed.”

  He didn’t say again. He didn’t need to. It hung between them, like a stiff-fingered accusation.

  Juliet had a sudden flashback to the weekend when she and Patrick got married. They’d eloped to Vegas. It had been hot and crowded and tacky as hell, and they’d loved every minute they spent there. They got married by an Elvis impersonator at the Graceland Wedding Chapel and then spent one decadent night in a suite at the Bellagio. Instead of a reception, they’d eaten at Le Cirque, played blackjack, and finally fell into bed and made love for hours.

  It hadn’t been all that long ago. Only five years, Juliet realized. And yet now they couldn’t be further away from the impulsive, sex-crazed couple they’d once been.

  “You know what my job is like. It’s not forty hours a week, Monday through Friday,” Juliet reminded him.

  “Tell me about it. I think the last time you worked only forty hours was our vacation,” Patrick said, only half joking. It didn’t help that the vacation was still a sore subject between them.

  They’d driven up to Orlando to take the twins to Disney World in early January, on the tail end of the girls’ school break. On the second day they were there, just moments before they were about to head off to Epcot, Juliet’s office had called with a work crisis. Joanna, one of the other associates, had lost track of a case she was responsible for and the court was going to dismiss it for lack of prosecution, which would have opened the firm up to a potentially devastating malpractice lawsuit from the clients. Joanna was fired, and Juliet had to rush back to the office to handle the case. Patrick hadn’t forgotten it, even though, Juliet remembered, he didn’t exactly mind when the bonus she’d earned purchased the flat-panel television set he’d been salivating over at Best Buy.

  “I don’t have time for a guilt trip right now,” Juliet said crisply. She picked up her travel coffee mug and a file of papers to bring in with her and turned to leave.

  “I didn’t know you were capable of feeling guilt,” Patrick said to her back.

  Juliet paused for a minute, her shoulders stiffening. And then she walked out the door and closed it behind her without looking back at him.

  “Working on a Saturday? Are you trying to impress the boss?”

  Juliet looked up. She’d been kneeling in front of the filing cabinet in her office, trying to track down the notes she’d made on her billable hours worked that month, when she heard his voice. It was Alex. She felt a frisson of excitement as she met her boss’s cool gaze. He was also dressed casually, in chinos and a navy polo shirt that turned his eyes a vivid aquamarine.

  “Always,” she said, trying to keep her voice cool. She stood up to greet Alex, suddenly—and foolishly, she knew—glad that she’d worn a body-hugging V-neck T-shirt and her new flattering dark-rinse jeans, rather than the sweats she normally favored on the weekends.

  “What are you working on?”

  “Time sheets. I was in a deposition all day yesterday, and I didn’t have a chance to get to them. How about you?”

  “I just stopped in to clear my desk off. But, as long as I’ve got you here, let’s go over the Richardson case. I have a meeting with the client on Monday,” Alex said.

  Juliet glanced at the clock. It was already quarter past ten. In order to make the twins’ game, she would have to leave in twenty minutes. And, if past history were any guide, a meeting with Alex would take longer than that. Much longer. He was a detail man, the sort of lawyer that wanted to have every last issue spelled out for him before he went into a client meeting. Alex liked to say that the secret to his success was that he knew when and how to delegate, but this was bullshit. He micromanaged everything, and nothing got by him.

  Juliet couldn’t very well refuse. She was going to be up for partner in the next six months; she needed to take advantage of every opportunity she could find to impress Alex. He was the seniormost partner, and having his approval would make all the difference when it came time for the partnership to consider her.

  Besides, it meant spending the morning with Alex.

  “Okay,” Juliet said, her decision made. “I’ll get my notes together and come down to your office.”

  I’ll still be able to get to the game by halftime, she thought. And as long as they see me there at some point, the girls won’t know the difference.

  “So I think that’s everything,” Alex said some time later, after Juliet had fully briefed him on the status of the Richardson case. “You want to grab some lunch?”

  “Lunch? Why, what time is it?” Juliet asked, checking her watch for the first time since the meeting had begun. She gaped down at it. Shit. It was already noon. She’d completely lost track of time. The girls’ game had started an hour ago.

  How long do preschool soccer games last, anyway? she wondered. Will I still be able to catch the end?

  “I can’t. In fact, I have to get going. I’m running late as it is. Rain check?” Juliet asked.

  “Sure,” Alex said. He leaned back in his chair and smiled at her in a way that made Juliet suddenly aware of how close they were sitting. Just an arm’s reach away. Close enough that she could smell his clean, fresh scent.

  Juliet was suddenly overcome with the desire to touch Alex, to brush her fingers along the smooth skin on the inside of his wrist. She glanced at his hand; Alex was married, but he wasn’t wearing a wedding band.

  God, get a grip, Juliet told herself. You’re married. He’s married. And to him, you’re just one of the guys.

  But there was a flicker in Alex’s blue eyes that made her not quite believe that.

  “Do you have plans with your family today?” Alex asked.

  Juliet made it a policy to never talk about the girls or Patrick at the office. First, she didn’t think her family was anyone’s business. And second, she didn’t want her coworkers to think of her as a wife or a mother, which was—in Juliet’s mind—synonymous with feminine weakness. She wanted them to think of her as a shark, someone who was ruthless, ambitious, and even slightly dangerous. Someone they didn’t want to cross.

  “Yes,” she said vaguely. “You know, this and that.”

  Suddenly Alex leaned forward, reaching toward Juliet. She froze, and—for the first time in as long as she could remember—she had no idea what to do. She could feel the tips of Alex’s fingers brush against her clavicle.

  What is he doing? she wondered, nervous and excited at the same time. She inhaled sharply, then held the breath.

  Alex fingered the emerald cross hanging on a delicate gold chain that she always wore. His touch was innocent enough and yet somehow managed to be incredibly sexy. Juliet could feel her body flood with warmth, as every last inch of her skin went on high alert.

  “You never struck me as the religious type,” Alex murmured.

  “I’m not,” Juliet said. She surprised herself with how self-possessed she sounded. “It was my mother’s.”

  “Was?”

  “She died when I was in law school,” Juliet said briefly.

  “I’m sorry.” Alex’s fingers withdrew abruptly. “You must miss her. You wear that necklace every day.”

  I don’t wear it because I miss her, Juliet thought, feeling almost rebellious at the idea that her mother was someone she’d
want to enshrine around her neck. I wear it to remind myself of what happens to a woman who loses her power.

  Alex leaned back and glanced at his watch.

  “All right, Cole, you’d better get out of here. You don’t want to spend your whole Saturday stuck at the office,” he said. He straightened the stack of papers in front of him on the table and slipped them into his leather binder.

  It felt like a dismissal. Hell, it was a dismissal. Feeling stung, Juliet stood.

  “Right, then. Good-bye, Alex. Have a nice rest of your weekend,” she said. And then she turned and walked out of the room, hoping that she didn’t look as disappointed as she felt.

  Patrick was wrong: Juliet did feel guilt. As she walked into her house, the guilt clung to her, sticking thickly in her throat. She’d missed the girls’ soccer game; by the time she’d raced across town and pulled into the park, the field was empty.

  Still. She was at the office, she tried to convince herself. Not that it was working. She was well aware that Alex wouldn’t have minded if she’d left earlier, in time to make the last part of the game. So why had she stayed?

  But she knew why. She’d wanted to spend the morning with Alex, to watch his square, sure hands as he jotted down a note on a legal pad and to listen to the raspy bark of his laughter.

  And knowing this made Juliet feel like five shades of shit.

  Will Patrick know? she wondered, the thought causing her heart to skitter inside her chest. Juliet’s mother had always sworn that she knew when her father was being unfaithful, insisted that he was incapable of hiding his guilt. Not that she’d been unfaithful to Patrick—at least not physically. And fantasizing about another man didn’t count as cheating…did it? No. No way.

  The house was buzzing with familiar sounds—the intake of the air conditioner, the hum of the dishwasher, “Hakuna Matata” from the Lion King soundtrack playing in the twins’ playroom.

  “I’m home! Where is everyone?” Juliet called out, setting her leather bag—large enough that it could double as a briefcase—on the front hall table.