With my initial list of potential clients amounting to nothing, I started cold-calling businesses. Starting Wednesday afternoon and all day Thursday, I made more than a couple of hundred calls. I consistently heard the words not interested, but kept at it and eventually managed to line up five meetings the following week. The businesses weren't the kind of clients that the Peters Group normally targeted a family-owned restaurant, a sandwich shop, two chiropractors, and a day spa and the fees would likely be low, but it was better than nothing.

At home, Vivian said little about her various interviews. She didn't want to jinx them, she explained, but she seemed confident, and when I told her about my meetings the following week, her mind was clearly elsewhere. Looking back, I should have taken it as a sign.

On Friday morning, I'd just walked in the kitchen when I heard Vivian's cell phone begin to ring. London was already at the table, eating a bowl of cereal. Vivian checked the incoming number and wandered to the back patio before answering. Thinking it was her mother her mother was the only person I knew who would call that early I poured myself a cup of coffee.

"Hi, sweetie," I said to London.

"Hi, Daddy. Is zero a number?"

"Yes," I answered. "Why?"

"Well, you know I'm five, right? And before that, I was four?"

"Yes."

"What was I before I was one?"

"Before you were one, we would talk about your age in months. Like, you're three months old, or six months old. And before you were a month old, your age was measured in weeks. Or even days."

"And then I was zero right?"

"I guess you were. Why all the questions?"

"Because I'll be six in October. But really, I'll be seven."

"You'll be six, honey."

She held up her hands and began counting, holding up a finger or thumb with every number she pronounced. "Zero. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six."

By then, she was holding up five fingers on one hand and two on the other. Seven in total.

"That's not how it works," I said.

"But you said I was zero, and that zero was a number. There's seven numbers. That means, I'll be seven, not six."

It was too much to process before I'd finished my first cup of coffee. "When did you think of this?"

Instead of answering, she shrugged and I thought again how much she resembled her mother. At that moment, Vivian stepped back into the kitchen, her face slightly flushed.

"You okay?" I asked.

At first, I wasn't sure she'd heard me. "Yeah," she finally offered. "I'm fine."

"Everything okay with your mom?"

"I guess so. I haven't talked to her in about a week. Why would you ask about Mom?"

"Wasn't that who you were talking to?"

"No," she said.

"Who was on the phone?" I finally asked.

"Rachel Johnson."

"Who?"

"She's one of the vice presidents at Spannerman. I interviewed with her on Wednesday."

She added nothing else. I waited. Still nothing.

"And she was calling because?" I persisted.

"They're offering me the job," she said. "They want me to start Monday. Orientation."

I wasn't sure whether congratulations were in order, but I said it anyway and even in that moment, I still had no inkling whatsoever that my entire world was about to be turned upside down.

Work that day didn't feel... normal, and that was saying something, since nothing about work had seemed normal since I'd gone out on my own. I began to put together PowerPoint presentations for the meetings I'd scheduled. They would offer a general overview of various ad campaigns I'd worked on, discussed the dollar value of advertising for the client's specific business, and preview the kind of work I could do for them. If the potential clients showed interest, I'd follow that up with a more specific proposal at a second meeting.

Even though I made significant headway, my thoughts would occasionally wander back to what I learned that morning.

My wife would be going to work on Monday, for Spannerman.

Good God.

Spannerman.

Still, it was date night and I was looking forward to spending the evening with Vivian. When I walked in the door, however, I felt as though I'd stepped into the wrong house. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were a mess, and London was parked in front of the television, something I'd never seen at that time of night. Vivian was nowhere to be seen, nor did she answer when I called for her. I walked from one room to the next, finally locating her in the den. She was seated in front of the computer researching all things Spannerman, and for the first time in our married life, she seemed almost frazzled. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and her hair looked as though she'd been twisting strands of it for most of the day. Beside her was a thick binder she had printed and highlighted a thick sheaf of pages and when she turned toward me, I could see that romance was not only off the table, but hadn't even crossed her mind all day.

I hid my disappointment and after some small talk, I suggested we order Chinese food. We ate as a family, but Vivian remained distracted, and as soon as she finished eating, she went back to the den. While she clicked and printed, I cleaned the house and helped London get ready for bed. I filled the bathtub London had reached the age where she could wash herself brushed her hair and lay beside her in bed reading an assortment of books. In another first, Vivian simply kissed our daughter goodnight without reading a story, and when I found her back in the den, she told me that she still had another few hours to go. I watched television for a while and went to bed alone; when I woke the following morning, I found myself staring at Vivian and wondering how late she'd finally turned in.

She was back to her normal self soon after waking, but then again, it was Saturday morning. She was out the door right on schedule for her Me Time, and for the fifth time in seven days, I found myself playing Mr. Mom, if only part-time. On her way out the door, Vivian asked if I could take care of London for the day; she told me that she hadn't quite finished the research from the night before and also had some things she needed to grab for work.

"No problem," I said, and as a result, London and I found ourselves back at my parents' place. Marge and Liz had gone to Asheville for the weekend, so London had my mom all to herself most of the day. Nonetheless, my mom found time to sidle up to me and mentioned that since I'd failed in my task of getting my dad to the doctor, Marge would be bringing him on Monday.

"It's good to know that one of our kids really cares about their father," my mom remarked.

Thanks, Mom.

My father, as usual, was in the garage. When I walked in, he poked his head around the hood of the car.

"You're here," he said to me.

"I thought I'd swing by with London."

"No Vivian again?"

"She has some things to do for work. She got a job and starts on Monday."

"Oh," he said.

"That's it?"

He took a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his hands. "It's probably a good thing," he finally said. "Someone in your family should be earning some money."

Thanks, Dad.

After visiting with him for a bit and with London happily baking with Nana I sat on the couch in the living room, absently watching golf. I'm not a golfer and I don't generally watch golf, but I found myself staring at logos on golf bags and shirts while trying to calculate how much money had gone to the advertising agencies who'd come up with that idea.

The whole thing depressed me.

Meanwhile, I texted Vivian twice and left a voicemail without getting a response; the house phone also went unanswered. Figuring she was out and about, I stopped at the grocery store on the way back from my parents', something fairly rare for me. I usually only went to the store when we were out of something or when I was in the mood for something specific for dinner; I was the kind of shopper who used a handheld basket as opposed to a cart, like I was in a race to see how fast I could get out of there. For London, I grabbed a box of macaroni and cheese, slices of turkey breast and pears, which was only somewhat healthy, but also happened to be her favorite. For Vivian and me, I selected a New York strip and sashimi-grade tuna fillet that I could put on the grill, along with the makings for a salad, corn on the cob, and a bottle of Chardonnay.

While I hoped to make up for our lost date night, I also simply wanted to spend time with Vivian. I wanted to listen to her and hold her and discuss our future. I knew there were going to be changes in our lives, even challenges, and I wanted to promise that we'd get through them together as a couple. If Vivian felt more fulfilled and accomplished at work, she just might bring that better mood home with her; if we shared parenting more equally, we might begin to see each other in ways more conducive to a closer relationship. In the evenings, we'd visit about our days, revel in our successes and support each other in our struggles, and the extra money would make things easier as well. In other words, things would only get better for Vivian and me, and tonight was the first step in the process.

Why, then, did I feel so unsettled?

Maybe it was because Vivian never called or texted me back, nor was she home when London and I returned.

What had been odd gradually grew concerning, but I didn't text or call, because I knew that I wouldn't be able to hide my annoyance, which would no doubt put an end to the evening before it started. Instead, I marinated the steak and placed it in the fridge before starting to dice the cucumbers and tomatoes for the salad. London, meanwhile, pulled the husks from the corncobs. Thrilled to help make dinner for Date Night, she diligently picked away at the silken threads then would hold the corn up for me to examine before setting it aside and starting on the next. I prepared the macaroni and cheese, peeled and sliced a pear, added turkey to her plate and sat with London while she ate. With still no word from Vivian, I put on a movie for London and sat with her until I finally heard the SUV pull into the drive.

London was already out the front door as soon as my wife stepped out of the SUV and I watched Vivian scoop her up and give her a kiss. She kissed me as well and asked if I could bring the bags inside. Figuring it was groceries, I opened the back hatch after Vivian and London had vanished inside and saw a mountain of bags from Neiman Marcus and half a dozen shoe boxes with Italian names.

No wonder she hadn't called or answered. Vivian had been busy.

Like the week before, it took multiple trips to unload all the items she'd purchased and by the time I finished, Vivian was sitting beside London on the couch, London leaning into her.

Vivian smiled at me before mouthing that she wanted a few more minutes with London. I nodded, reminding myself again not to show the slightest hint of irritation. In the kitchen, I poured two glasses of wine and brought one of them to Vivian before returning to the back porch where I fired up the grill. Knowing it would take a few minutes to heat up, I went back inside and sipped at the wine while taking stock of the dining room table where I'd heaped her things. In time, Vivian kissed London on her head then slid away. She beckoned me to meet her near the goodies. She leaned in for a quick kiss as I approached.

"London said she had a fun day with you."

"I'm glad," I said. "I'm guessing you had a pretty full day, too."

"I did. After I finished with my research, I raced from one store to the next. By the end, all I really wanted to do was come home and relax."

"Are you hungry? I picked you up some fresh tuna and I've already got the grill going."

"Really? Tonight?"

"Why not?"

"Because I've already eaten." Vivian must have seen my expression and her tone acquired an edge of defensiveness. "I didn't know you were planning to make dinner tonight. All I knew was that I hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch, and I was so hungry that my hands began to shake. I ended up stopping at a cafe on the way out of the mall. You should have let me know and I would have just grabbed a snack."

"I called and texted, but you never responded."

"My phone was in my purse and I didn't hear it. I didn't see your texts or that you'd called until I was almost home."

"You could have called me."

"I just told you that I was rushing around all day."

"To the point you couldn't even check your phone?"

"Don't make it sound like I was trying to ruin your night on purpose," she said with a sigh. "You can still grill the steak. I'm sure London is hungry."

"She already ate," I said, thinking that what I really wanted was for my wife to have missed talking to me as much as I'd missed talking to her.

"Oh," she said. "Do you want to see what I bought?"

"Yeah, okay," I said.

"Would you mind getting me another half a glass of wine first? I want to organize my things before I show you."

I nodded, wandering back to the kitchen in a daze, still trying to sort through what had just happened. She had to assume we'd have dinner, so why had she stopped to eat? And why hadn't she checked her phone? How was it that my wife could feel no need to check in on her family? I refilled her glass, returning to the dining room wanting to ask more questions, but by then, Vivian had various outfits either spread on the table or draped over the back of the chairs.

"Thanks, hon," she said, reaching for the glass. She kissed me again and set her glass aside without taking a sip. "I bought a navy blue suit, too. It's gorgeous, but it was a little big in the hips, so I'm having it altered," she began, then proceeded to present one outfit after another. As she did, I caught sight of one of the receipts from the bags and felt my heart skip a beat. The total, on that one receipt, was more than half the mortgage.

"Are you okay?" she asked when she was finished. "You seem like you're upset."

"I'm just wondering why you didn't call me."

"I already told you. I was busy."

"I know, but..."

"But what?" she asked, her eyes flashing. "It's not like you called and texted every minute when you were at work either."

"You were shopping."

"For work," she said, the anger in her voice now plain. "Do you think I wanted to stay up half the night and then race around all afternoon? But you didn't give me much of a choice, did you? I have to work because you quit your job. And don't pretend I didn't see you inspecting those receipts, so before you get on that high horse again, maybe you should remind yourself that your little adventure has cost a lot more than I spent today, so maybe you should look in the mirror."

"Vivian..."

"You need to stop acting like I'm the bad guy. You're not exactly perfect."

"I never said I was."

"Then stop finding fault with everything I do."

"I'm not..."

By then, however, she'd already left the dining room.

For the next half hour, we avoided each other. Or rather, she avoided me. She'd always been better at it than I was. I know because I kept peeking at her, hoping to detect a thaw in her mood, and found myself wondering why we couldn't seem to discuss anything that bothered me without it turning into an argument.

I grilled the tuna and the steak, hoping she'd at least taste the food, and set the table on the back porch. After bringing the food over, I called for Vivian, only to see her emerge with London in tow.

I put small portions on both their plates and though both Vivian and London took a few bites, my wife's silent treatment continued. If there was one positive from the meal, it was that London didn't seem to notice, since she and her mom chatted as though I wasn't there at all.