London nodded. "I start Tuesday."

"I know," Marge said. "Your dad told me. He said that you met your teacher, too."

"Her name is Mrs. Brinson," London said. "She's really nice. She said that I might be able to bring Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles to show-and-tell."

"That would be great," Marge said. "I'm sure the other kids will love them. Where are they now? Did you bring them?"

"No. They're at home. Mommy said it was too hot to leave them in the car while we were shopping."

"She's probably right. It's pretty hot today."

"Are you hungry?" I asked London.

"Mommy and I had lunch not too long ago."

So that's where you were. "Did you see Nana in the kitchen?"

"She says we're going to make pudding-in-a-cloud in a couple of minutes. It's a snack, though, so it won't ruin my dinner. And then we're going to plant some flowers."

"That sounds fun. How about Papa?"

"I sat in his lap for a little while. His whiskers were itchy when he kissed me. He liked my lunch box, too."

"I'll bet he did. Did you watch the game with him?"

"Not really. We talked about Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles and he told me that he missed them. And then we talked about school and my bike, and he said he wanted to watch me ride it sometime. Then he told me that when he was little, he used to ride his bike all the time. Once, he said he rode it all the way to Lake Norman and back."

"That's a long way," I said, not doubting it for a minute. It sounded like something my dad would have done. Just then, Vivian emerged from the house.

I stood and gave my wife a kiss; Marge and Liz offered hugs before taking their seats again. Vivian sat down, too.

Vivian straightened London's dress. "I think Nana's waiting for your help in the kitchen, sweetie."

"Okay," London said, scampering off and vanishing inside. When the door closed behind her, I turned toward Vivian, aware that I was still bothered about her separate bank account, but it wasn't the time or place to let her know how I felt. I forced myself to smile and pretend nothing was wrong at all.

"How did it go today?"

"You wouldn't believe what a pain it was." Vivian sighed. "It took forever to find the right backpack. They were sold out almost everywhere, but we finally got lucky at the last place we went. It goes without saying that the stores were packed. It was like everyone in Charlotte had the same idea and waited until the last minute to grab school supplies. Which meant, of course, that I had to get London a bite to eat because she was starving by the time we finally finished."

"Shopping isn't for the faint of heart," Marge observed.

"At least it's done," Vivian said. She turned from Marge to Liz, focusing somewhere in between them. "How are things going with you two? Any trips planned?"

Marge and Liz both enjoyed traveling; in the years they'd been together, they'd visited over fifteen different countries.

"Next weekend, we're going to Houston to see my parents," Liz answered. "In October, we're off to Costa Rica. Right after London's birthday."

"Wow... What's in Costa Rica?"

"It's more of an adventure trip. Zip-lines, rafting, hiking through the cloud forest, and we'll see the Arenal volcano."

"Sounds like fun."

"I hope so. And then in early December, we'll be going to New York City. There are some shows we want to see, and I hear the 9/11 Memorial Museum is really moving."

"I love New York around the holidays. I never thought I'd miss it when I left, but every now and then, I find myself wondering why I ever left in the first place."

We left because we were getting married. I didn't say that, but Liz being Liz probably sensed my agitation and like me, wanted to keep things cordial. "There's no other city quite like it, is there?" she said. "We always enjoy our trips there."

"If you need help getting dinner reservations anywhere, let me know. I can call my old boss and I'm sure he can pull some strings."

"Thank you. We'll keep that in mind. How's the office move to Atlanta going?"

"It's going. For whatever reason, I've been put in charge of the logistics, and it's been a lot more work than I imagined. I have to be in Atlanta for a couple of days at the end of the week."

"But you'll be at school on London's first day?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

"I'm sure that will make London very happy. Is there an official move-in date yet? For Atlanta, I mean?"

"Sometime in mid-September, I'm guessing. It's really going to be an incredible office. It's right on Peachtree, with amazing views. And Walter has been setting up some of the executives with temporary corporate apartments, so that's made things a little easier, too."

"Will you be using one of the apartments?"

"I suppose it depends on how much time I'll actually have to spend there."

It depends?

Before I could figure out what that meant, Liz went on. "But you'll be able to mainly work out of Charlotte, right?"

"That's the hope, but who knows for sure? This week, I'm in Atlanta three days, but Walter is toying with the idea of eventually running for governor. Not next year, but in 2020. But between his real-estate developments and his PAC and now this, don't be shocked if I have to be there four days a week."

"That's a lot of nights in a hotel."

"If I'm there that much, I'd probably take Walter up on his offer for a corporate apartment."

"Seriously?" I finally interjected, unable to help myself.

"What can I tell you? Liz is right about hotel living."

"I'd rather you not have an apartment in Atlanta," I said, wondering why I was just finding out about this now, instead of in private.

"I know you don't," she said. "Do you think I want that?"

I didn't respond, because I wasn't quite sure I knew the answer.

"Why would he want to be governor?" Marge asked, interrupting my thoughts. "He already has all the money and power he needs."

"Why not? He's been successful in everything he's done. He'd probably be a great governor."

Even as Vivian was talking, I was still thinking about the bank account and the apartment. Marge probably was, too, based on her expression. Liz, meanwhile, was a master at keeping conversations on neutral ground. "It sounds to me like he'll be keeping you very busy over the next few years," Liz said.

"I'm busy all day, every day already."

"And you enjoy it," Liz said.

"I do. I really missed working, and it's an exciting place to work. I feel like I'm finally getting back to being the real me, if that makes any sense."

"It makes all the sense in the world," Liz agreed. "I tell my clients that meaningful work is essential for good mental health."

"Being a stay-at-home mom is meaningful, too," I pointed out.

"No question about it," Liz said. "I think everyone would agree with the idea that staying at home to raise a child is meaningful and important." Then, to Vivian: "Has it been hard being apart from London?"

"I know she misses me," Vivian answered. "But I think it's important that she sees me working outside the home. The last thing I want is for her to think that women should aspire to being barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen as a life's goal."

"When were you ever barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?" I interjected.

"It's a figure of speech, Russ," she said. "You know what I mean. And frankly, it's been good for Russ, too. I think he has a lot more respect for what my life was like for five years."

"I always had respect for what you did," I said, tired of feeling like I had to continually defend myself. "And yes, you're right that watching London takes a lot of energy. But I'm also working, too, and trying to balance both has been the difficult part."

Vivian's eyes narrowed for an instant, her dislike for my comment obvious. She turned her attention to Marge again. "How are things with you? Work going okay?"

It was the kind of innocuous question that defined their relationship a question that meant nothing and kept conversation superficial.

"Like they say, whenever we want to liven up the office party, we invite a couple of funeral directors."

Despite myself, I smiled. Vivian didn't.

"I don't know how you do it," Vivian said. "I can't imagine staring at numbers all day and dealing with the IRS."

"It's not for everyone, but I've always been good with numbers. And I enjoy helping my clients."

"That's good," Vivian said. She added nothing else and the four of us descended into silence. Marge picked at her fingernail while Liz adjusted the hem of her shorts. It didn't take a genius to understand that the levity that had been present all afternoon evaporated as soon as Vivian had taken a seat on the porch. Even Vivian seemed at a loss for words. She stared at nothing in particular before finally, almost reluctantly, focusing on Marge again. "What time did the two of you get here today?"

"Twelve thirty or so," Marge answered. "We got here a few minutes after Russ did."

"Anything exciting happen?"

"Not really. It's just a typical Saturday. Mom's been in the kitchen all day, we went for a walk, Dad started in the garage until the ball game came on. And, of course, I teased your husband for a while."

"Good for you. He needs someone to keep him in line. He's been a little moody these days. At home, it seems like lately, I can't do anything right."

I turned toward her, too startled to speak again, and wondering: Are you talking about me or you?

Separate bank account. Corporate apartment. A possibility of up to four nights a week spent in Atlanta.

The more I thought about Vivian's Saturday Surprises, the more I began to suspect that she brought it all up here because she knew I wouldn't argue with other people around. Of course, once we got home, she'd say that we'd already discussed it, so there was no reason to go over it again; if I even tried, I was doing so because I wanted to start an argument. It was a win-win situation for her and left me no recourse at all, but what bothered me even more than the blatant manipulation was that Vivian didn't seem to be troubled at the prospect of spending more days apart than we spent together. What would that mean for us? What would that mean for London?

I wasn't sure. I had no desire to leave Charlotte, but if push came to shove, I would. My marriage was important to me my family was important to me and I would do whatever it took to keep us together. As for my company, it wasn't as if I was firmly established in Charlotte, and if the possibility of a move was on the horizon, I might as well start searching for clients in Atlanta, assuming I had some sense of what Vivian's upcoming schedule might be. The whole thing was still so vague though, so uncertain.

And yet... if I suggested the possibility of moving the family, I wasn't sure how Vivian would respond. Would she even want that? I felt as though Vivian and I were sliding on ice in opposite directions, and the more I tried to hold on to her, the more determined she seemed to pull away. She had a desire for secrecy that nagged at me and while I'd assumed that we'd support each other in our employment challenges, I couldn't shake the feeling that Vivian had little enthusiasm for that kind of mutual reliance. Instead of she and I against the world, it felt like Vivian against me.

Then again, perhaps I was making too big of a deal about all of this; maybe I was too argumentative and focused too much on her faults, not her strengths. Once London was in school and we adapted to our respective work schedules, things might not appear so bleak, and our lives would be on the upswing again.

Or maybe they wouldn't.

Meanwhile, as I was pondering these things, Vivian was discussing various shows in New York with Marge and Liz. She went on to recommend that they visit a rooftop bar on Fifty-Seventh Street with a view of Central Park that not too many people knew about; I could remember taking Vivian on lazy Sunday afternoons, back when I used to believe I was the center of her world. How long ago that suddenly seemed.

Just then, London emerged carrying two servings of pudding-in-a-cloud, handing one each to Liz and Marge; she followed that with servings for Vivian and me. Despite my inner turmoil, the sight of London's excitement couldn't help but make me smile.

"This looks delicious, sweetheart," I said. "What's in it?"

"Chocolate pudding and Cool Whip," London answered. "It's like a soft Oreo cookie and I helped Nana make it. She said it won't ruin my appetite because it's just a snack. I'm going to go eat mine with Papa, okay?"

"I'm sure he'll love that." Taking a quick bite, I commented, "Very tasty. You're a great chef."

"Thank you, Daddy," she said. To my delight, she leaned in for a quick hug before heading back into the house, no doubt headed for my dad's lap with a couple more desserts.

Vivian had seen London hug me and while she offered a benign smile in response, I wasn't sure what, if anything, she felt about being left out. As soon as London closed the door, Vivian put her dessert on the table, sugar being the enemy and all. Not so with me, Marge, or Liz. Marge was on her second spoonful when she spoke again.

"You've got a big week ahead. London starting school, Vivian traveling, and you're filming commercials, right? When does that start?"

"We have rehearsal on Wednesday afternoon, and we'll film on Thursday and Friday, then a couple of days the following week. I also have a casting session next week."

"Busy, busy."

"I'll be okay," I said, realizing I actually meant it. With London in school, I had eight free hours to work, which seemed like all the time in the world compared to the life I was leading now. I took another bite of the dessert, feeling Vivian's gaze on me.

"What?" I asked her.

"You not going to eat all of that, are you?" Vivian asked.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because we'll be having dinner in an hour. It's not good for you. Or your waistline."

"I think I can handle it," I said. "I'm down six pounds this month."

"Then why try to put it back on?" Vivian asked.

When I didn't respond, Liz cleared her throat. "How about you, Vivian? Are you still going to the gym and doing yoga at that place downtown?"

"Only on Saturdays. But I work out at the office gym two or three times a week."

I blinked. "There's an office gym?"