get breaks. When the kids are with Adam I get to be me, the real me. I don’t have to be someone’s wife, or mother, or anything. I get to be selfish, and sometimes I think I deserve a little selfishness. I love my life today, and I love it because I created it. I painted the walls of my house, and I know where everything is, and if I don’t want to do something, like entertain corporate clients yet again, I don’t have to.”
Edie nods to show she understands before Kit continues.
“You know, Edie, when I was married to Adam, I did everything then. Sure, he paid the bills and did some of the weekend stuff, like going to Costco, but I did all the other chores because he was never around. In the beginning he was, that was when he was fun, the Adam you see today, but as he became more senior at work, we saw less and less of him. He’d get home after I was in bed, travel on weekends, not show any interest in me or the kids. When he was home he’d be stuck behind his computer in his office. It wasn’t a marriage. It was two people barely coexisting.”
“You young people,” says Edie, shaking her head. “You all think marriage is this great romantic fantasy, but a lot of the time that’s all that marriage is. I loved my Monty, but did I like him all the time? Hell, no. There were times when I hated him, and some of those times lasted a couple of years, but it always passed. We’d made a commitment to each other and both of us knew we had to honor it.”
“Edie,” Kit says through gritted teeth, “you weren’t there. You don’t know how awful it was.”
“You’re right. I don’t know. I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that I think there are so few truly good men out there, and Adam is one of them.”
“He is. And I’m sure that one day he’ll make someone else very happy. It’s just not going to be me.”
There is a message from Steve when Kit gets home, and she decides to call him back on her way to the grocery store. She checks her watch—yes, there’s still time—before hauling the pumpkins from the car into Edie’s house.
“Forgive me,” Edie says, as Kit is leaving. “I truly didn’t mean to upset you. I think of you as a daughter, Kit, and I only want to see you happy.”
“I know,” Kit says gently, reaching down to give Edie a reassuring hug. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“I still don’t like that Steve fella,” Edie mutters into her ear, and Kit laughs.
“You will,” she says. “And so will Rose. Wait and see.”
“Just checking in with you . . .”
Hearing Steve’s voice spreads a warmth through her body, and she smiles as she fumbles for her ear piece—the last thing she needs is a fine for using her cell phone while driving.
“You’re not canceling on me, then? ”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t cancel for the world. I wanted to see if there was anything I could bring to dinner.”
“I’m not coming empty-handed,” he laughs, “so how about wine? Red or white? ”
“I think maybe red.”
“Great. Oh, and Kit? ”
“Yes? ”
“I can’t wait to see you.”
Kit rushes back from Trader Joe’s and dumps the paper bags on the counter—she has a trunk filled with recyclable shopping bags, but she always forgets to bring them in with her—then quickly unpacks and puts things away.
Steve mentioned the other night that he loved home-cooked food, and what could be lovelier than a home-cooked meal, a roaring log fire, and the soft, soothing sounds of Ray Lamon tagne on the iPod?
She is making French onion soup, a Provençal monkfish stew and an apple crisp, served with gourmet vanilla ice cream. Kit is a woman who recognizes the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and the monkfish stew is something she ate at the Greenhouse last year and loved so much she begged Alice for the recipe.
“You should do a cookbook,” she told Alice at the time.
“I’d love to,” Alice said with a laugh. “In another lifetime when I have more than two free minutes a day . . .” But she had handed the recipe over and it has become one of Kit’s favorites.
The onions have caramelized and are simmering in beef