Christy crossed her arms and made her point without a word.
“What?” Wren said. “My job’s important.” It sounded like a cop-out, even to her.
“More important than your children?” Christy shot back. “Missy calls me ‘Mommy’ half the time.”
Wren slumped as her defenses crumbled.
“Mmm hmm,” Christy said. “Don’t get me wrong,” she added, “I love them both, but they’re your children.”
“What do you want from me? We can hire a nanny again—”
“That isn’t the point!”
“She’s right, babe,” Trip said.
Wren stiffened with anger. “I don’t need you piling on too,” she snapped. “You’re the problem here! My career always takes a back seat to yours!”
“At least you have one!” Christy shouted.
“Is everything okay?” a young voice asked.
Four heads turned. Davis stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Christy answered automatically, before Wren could.
“It’s fine, honey,” she said. “We’re just having a grown-up discussion.”
“I heard shouting.”
“It’s all right,” she assured him. “Go back upstairs. Tell the girls we need to leave soon. Start cleaning up, please.”
He nodded but then frowned. “I thought I heard Susie.”
Christy smiled, a look so full of affection that it was a dagger to Wren’s heart. She hadn’t meant it to be, but the blade had struck home and cut deep. Even Trip noticed.
“Will you look in on her?” Christy said to the boy.
“Okay.” He belatedly looked at his own mother. “Mom? Are you okay?”
Wren wiped her cheeks and forced a smile. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Go upstairs and check on Susie.”
He nodded uncertainly and looked to Christy.
“Go on,” she told him. “We’ll be up soon.”
He turned and climbed the stairs.
Trip and I shared a look, but we both knew better than to say anything.
Wren buried her face in her hands. “I’m a horrible mother.”
“No, you aren’t.” Christy said gently. “You’re a good mother. But you need to spend more time with them.”
“What about my job?”
“Which is more important?”
“Easy for you to say,” Wren snapped. “You don’t—” She swallowed and looked even guiltier than before.
“Yes?” Christy said. “You were saying?”
“So… what?” Wren said. “I can’t have a career and be a mother too?”
“You’re doing great, babe,” Trip said.
“Did you just see what happened?” she moaned. She gestured at the space where Davis had been. “My own son! But she’s more of a mother than I am!”
“Okay, everyone calm down,” I said. “Maybe we need to look at things from a different perspective.” I drew a breath and gathered my thoughts. “We’re out of balance. Wren spends all her time at work. Christy spends hers with the kids. Trip and I spend ours at school. We’re all doing it because we have to, but we can’t keep going like this.”
Christy shook her head in agreement.
“And moving to Atlanta is your solution?” Wren asked bitterly. “Who cares what I want?”
“That isn’t what I’m saying at all. We need to find a happy middle ground.” I glanced at Trip and said, “Maybe we stay here and start a company.”
“I want a house,” Christy said before he could reply. “I’m tired of our dingy little apartment. I want one with a studio. A real one! Not some corner of the living room. I want a pool too.”
“That’ll be expensive,” Trip said. He glanced at me for support, and I instinctively knew where he was going.
“We’d have to look out past Worcester,” I agreed.
“Or up toward Nashua. Maybe even as far as Manchester.”
Christy didn’t think in terms of money, so she didn’t even bat an eye. Wren, however, knew the cost of the housing market in Boston.
“Yeah, I get it. You don’t have to rub it in.” She glared at Trip but then sighed. “So, once again, I have to put my career on hold for you all.”
“Not for them,” Christy said, “for me. I want a career too, Wren. I put mine on hold from the beginning, when Davis was born.”
“She’s right,” Trip said.
“I know she’s right,” Wren snarled. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“Balance,” I said before the argument could heat up again.
“What?” Wren scoffed. “We’re magically supposed to find it in Atlanta?”
“I think we have a better chance. It’s a big city with lots of jobs—”
“So’s Boston.”
I smiled tightly and continued, “We have family and friends there, and plenty of connections.”
“Please, Wren,” Christy added. “I want you to be happy, but not if it means I’m miserable at the same time.”
“We don’t have to decide right now,” I said. “We have a couple of months—”
“No,” Wren said, “if we’re going to do it, let’s just do it.” She held up a hand before Trip or I could reply. “Uh-uh. Don’t say a word. I’m not doing this because you convinced me. We’d still be arguing if it was just you two. I’m doing it for her. And the kids. You two can fuck off.”
Trip and I knew when to take yes for an answer.
* * *
Wren eventually resigned herself to the move. She updated her resume and sent it to several headhunters. She also called the man who ran her restaurant group and warned him to expect her in Atlanta in a few months.
“He’s a good manager,” she said afterward, “but he’s too much like my father, and he doesn’t like taking orders from a woman.”
“That doesn’t bode well for him,” I said.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Why don’t you take over?” Trip suggested.
“Because I’ve been out of the business too long.”
“What? No you haven’t! We eat at restaurants all the time!”
“Sweetheart, there’s a huge difference between eating in a restaurant and running one.”
“Like reading a book versus writing one,” I agreed.
“What?” Trip said. “That’s crazy.”
“No, he’s right,” Wren said. “I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”
Trip frowned at the macho-sexist reply.
“Let’s change the subject,” she continued. “When can we start talking about houses in Atlanta?”
Something in her tone warned us that she wasn’t talking about house-hunting.
“Uh, babe…,” Trip said. “It might be a while before we can build something custom.”
“That’s your problem, not mine,” she said coolly. “Christy wants a house with a pool and a studio. I’ll need an office instead of a studio, but—” She gestured impatiently at me, like I was one of the people who worked for her. “Shouldn’t you write this down?”
“Absolutely,” I chuckled. Then I took out a pencil and the little Moleskine notebook I habitually carried. It had been a gift from my female friend, the only thing I’d kept from our time together.
“Hold on,” Trip said to Wren, “we haven’t agreed to anything.”
“Yes, you have. When you said we were moving to Atlanta.”
“Babe, we can’t build a new house! Not now! It’ll cost a fortune! We need that money for the new company.”
“Again,” she said, as coolly as before, “that’s your problem, not mine.”
“Dude, relax,” I told him. “You know we’re going to do this. If it makes our wives happy, it’ll be cheap at twice the price.”
He rolled his eyes, and I surreptitiously winked at Wren. Her lips compressed in a grin. We hadn’t been in cahoots before, but we were now.