The Girls Of Mischief Bay

A familiar ringtone drifted from her purse. She reached for her bag.

“Sorry,” she said as she pulled her phone out of its pocket and glanced at the screen. “It’s work. I need to take this.”

She was already standing and heading out of the restaurant. When she stepped onto the sidewalk, she pushed Talk.

“This is Shannon.”

“Len Howard in the Seoul office. Sorry to bother you but we have a problem with the South Korean finance minister. He’s insisting on speaking with you.”

Shannon glanced back at the bar and saw Adam glancing her way. Adam, who appeared to be pretty darned close to perfect.

“Based on my other conversations with him, I’m guessing he wants me to phone him in the next few minutes.”

“If possible.”

Because he was a man of power and she needed his help with some banking regulations. Nolan, her boss, wanted their Asian headquarters in Seoul, which meant Shannon had to make nice with the finance minister.

“Please tell him I’ll call him back in fifteen minutes,” she said. “From my office.”

“Will do.”

She walked back into the restaurant. Adam rose as she approached the table.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I have to get back to work. There’s a crisis in South Korea and I need to be on the phone in fifteen minutes.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping we could grab dinner. Should I wait?”

She wanted to say yes. He was an unexpected find. But once she was done calming things down, she would have to call her boss and do paperwork.

“It’s going to be a late night.” She gave him a smile. “But I enjoyed meeting you.”

She wanted to say more. She wanted to ask him not to be intimidated by what she did. She wanted to say it would be great if he mentioned he wanted to see her again. Instead, she reached for her wallet.

“No way,” he told her. “I’ve got this. Go make your call.”

“Thank you.”

She waited a second, hoping he would say more. When he didn’t, she smiled. “It was so nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

She walked to the door and out into the cool evening. Her office was only a few blocks away. She would make it back in time with no problem.

Thoughts swirled and competed for her attention. If only, she thought, then pushed the words away. She’d wanted her career. She’d wanted to be successful and know that she could always take care of herself, no matter what. And she had that. There was no way she was going to feel bad about what she’d accomplished.

It was just that sometimes, she found herself wanting more.

Three (#ulink_bf15099b-6773-5282-998d-9575ef8d372d)

Nicole turned on the coffeemaker and leaned against the counter to wait for it to work its magic. It was early still. Quiet. The time of day she liked best—­except when she was exhausted, which was most of the time.

She told herself that eventually the situation would get better. That she would figure out a schedule that worked, that Tyler would get older and need her less, that Eric would get a real job and start helping support the family again.

The last thought made her feel both guilty and angry. Not a happy combination. Because as much as she loved her husband, there were times when she didn’t like him very much.

No, she thought. She didn’t like what he’d done. There was a difference.

Back before he’d quit his well-paying, very steady software development job to write a screenplay, things had seemed more balanced. She’d been comfortable in their roles. But lately…not so much.

She told herself she had to be fair. That he had the right to follow his dream. Only it wasn’t the dream she minded as much as the fact that he hadn’t asked her first. Instead, he’d announced what he was doing. And that announcement had come two days after he’d already resigned.

She closed her eyes against the memory, but it crowded into the kitchen, anyway. It had been a Friday morning. She’d been standing in the kitchen, just like she was now. Eric had walked in to the room, wearing shorts and T-shirt.

“Don’t you have to get dressed for work?” she’d asked.

He’d taken her hand. “I have to tell you something. I’ve quit my job. I’m going to write a screenplay.”

There had been more talk. She was sure of it. But she hadn’t heard anything beyond the keen screaming of fear that had filled her head.

Quit? How could he quit? They had a mortgage and she was still paying back her old boss for buying out the exercise studio. They had a four-year-old and college to save for and nearly no savings. They’d put off having a second kid because they couldn’t afford it.

The coffee flowed into the mug Nicole had left in place. She waited until it was nearly full, then expertly shifted the mug out of the way and the carafe into its spot without missing a drop. She inhaled the perfect earthy scent before taking her first sip of the day.

“Mommy?”

She took another quick sip, then turned as Tyler walked into the kitchen. He was tousled and still half-asleep. One hand held his battered, red stuffed toy, Brad the Dragon. The well-loved plush dragon was based on the popular series of children’s books. The author must make a mint from all the merchandising, she thought as she put her mug on the counter, then bent down to scoop up her son.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. He settled his around her neck, while hanging on with his legs. She pretended to stagger as she lifted him.

“You grew!”

He giggled at the familiar comment. “I can’t grow every night,” he told her.

“I think you can.”

She kissed his cheek and breathed in the scent of his skin. Whatever else went wrong in her day, Tyler was always right.

“How did you sleep?”

“Good.” He snuggled close. “Brad had bad dreams, but I said he was safe with me.”

“That’s very nice of you. I’m sure he appreciated having you to protect him.”

She carried Tyler over to the table. He released her to stand on his chair. With a quick, graceful movement, he settled into a sitting position.

Based on how athletic he was and how well he did in preschool, Tyler seemed to have inherited the best from her and Eric. Nicole could only hope. She’d wanted to enroll him in a dance class, but Eric had nixed the idea. For a while he’d wanted his son to attend a computer camp. But that interest had faded when he’d started writing his screenplay last year. She supposed they could agree on drama camp or something. Assuming Eric didn’t stop writing his screenplay to follow another surprise dream.