Rachel had kept her word.
Every year, around the holidays, she’d send me a card. Every year, at the bottom, she’d write something like, Still open! Or Door’s still unlocked! Or once, I’m getting old waiting for you, Emma.
And three months before the night at Bellamy’s, she’d sent me an email.
I’d read it so many times I almost knew it by heart.
Emma! Kim & Co. is growing like crazy. I’ve got more events than I have people. If you EVER want to come back, even part-time, even just to see if you still like it, I’ve got a paid trial spot with your name on it. Two weeks. No pressure. Just think about it. — R.
I’d never answered it.
I’d told myself it wasn’t the right time. The kids needed me. Daniel needed me. The house needed me. Who was going to make the lunches? Who was going to find Noah’s other shoe?
But I’d never deleted it, either.
That night, sitting at my kitchen table with my old notebook open in front of me, I took out my phone.
It was 11:43 p.m.
I opened Rachel’s email. I hit reply.
Rachel. Is the trial spot still open? I could start Monday. — Emma.
I stared at it for a long time.
My thumb was shaking.
Hic.
I pressed send.
I didn’t expect an answer until morning.
My phone buzzed four minutes later.
EMMA. YES. Monday. 9 a.m. I’ll send you the address. I’m so happy I could scream. Actually I just did. My husband is asking what’s wrong. — R.
I put my hand over my mouth.
And for the first time all night, I laughed.
Then I turned to a fresh page in my old notebook.
I picked up a pen.
And I started making a plan.
It took me until almost three in the morning.
By the time I was done, I had two pages, typed up and printed out on our home printer, as quietly as I could, so it wouldn’t wake anybody.
The next morning, my husband was going to find out that I could be a lot more expensive than he’d ever imagined.
Daniel came into the kitchen at eight-thirty on Sunday morning while I was making pancakes.
He was in his sweatpants and an old college T-shirt. His hair was sticking up in the back. He looked a little sheepish.
He came up behind me at the stove and kissed my cheek.
“Hey, babe,” he said. “Sorry about last night. Didn’t mean it.”
I flipped a pancake.
“Everything’s fine,” I said.
He looked relieved. His whole body relaxed. Like he’d been bracing for a fight and was glad he didn’t have to have one.
“Good,” he said. “Great. Coffee ready?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “But first, I have something for you.”
I reached into the pocket of my bathrobe and took out the papers. I’d folded them in thirds, like a letter.
I slid them across the counter to him.
Daniel picked them up. He unfolded the first page.
He read it out loud. Slowly. Like he wasn’t sure he was reading it right.
“Two Weeks’ Notice. Position: Unpaid Household Manager.”
He looked up at me. Then he laughed.
“What’s this?”
“My resignation,” I said.
“From being a housewife?”
“From being your unpaid housekeeper,” I said.
I put two pancakes on a plate and set it in front of him.
His smile disappeared.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Very funny. Who’s going to hire you, Emma? You’ve been home for eight years!”
“Remember Rachel?” I said. “My old boss?”
He frowned. “The one with the earrings?”
“She owns her own event-planning agency now. Kim and Company. It’s doing really well. She’s offered me a paid trial. Two weeks.” I poured his coffee. “Starting tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Daniel said. “Emma, we have children!”
“Exactly,” I said. “Which brings me to page two.”
He turned to the second page.
It was a schedule. A weekly schedule, Monday through Sunday, in a neat chart. I’d made it the way I used to make event timelines for weddings. Color-coded. Every task. Every time.
He read it out loud.
“Monday: Pick up kids from after-care at six. Cook dinner. Tuesday: Laundry. Kids’ clothes and yours. Wednesday: Help Lily with her school project…”
He looked up at me.
“And that’s just the beginning,” I said. “There’s more on the back.”
He flipped it over.
Thursday: Grocery shopping. Noah’s dentist appointment at 4:15. Friday: Clean bathrooms. Pay the electric bill. Sign Lily’s reading log. Saturday: Noah’s soccer at 9. Lily’s birthday party invitation for Maya at 2 — buy a gift. Sunday: Meal plan for the week. Update the shared calendar.
Daniel put the paper down.
“I’m not coming home from work to cook!” he said.
