“I see.”

I waited for him to say something else. And after a few seconds, he did. “I wasn’t really thinking about it that way. You and Nick are so busy, I don’t want to take up all your time.”

“I want you to take up my time,” I said, and suddenly tears were welling in my eyes. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. What I’ve been trying to tell you for years now, though maybe I just wasn’t direct enough. I know you’re a private person—”

“I’m not,” he protested.

“You are . That’s okay. I’m not asking you to be someone you’re not. I don’t want to drag you to family therapy or make you tell me all your secrets or whatever. I just want you to call me sometimes—”

“I call,” he said.

“No, Dad,” I said quietly. “You really don’t. Even on the kids’ birthdays. And I know Sanjay called you last year to remind you about mine.”

“Hmm.”

I wiped the corners of my eyes. “I know you like your life in Florida. I’m glad you and Anita are happy. But it would be nice if you invited us down there sometime. Or came here. Or anything—we could even video chat, so the kids can get to know you a little better.” A tear splashed on my desk. “So I can get to know you better.”

“Penelope,” he said gruffly.

I sniffed. “I’m here, Dad.”

He said nothing for a very long time. Then he said, “It’s going to be a hard couple of months for me, now that I’m coming up on treatment. Surgery’s next month.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know that I can go anywhere or have visitors.”

“I understand.”

“But maybe I can call you more often.”

“I’d like that,” I whispered, because it was getting hard to speak.

“And maybe when you call, I’ll call you back sooner.”

Now I said nothing, because I was really crying. When I was finally able, I said, “Thank you.”

“No, niña,” he said. “Thank you.”

Sanjay was sitting on the porch when I got home from work. I had planned to tell him about my father, but I took one look at his eager expression and said, “You got the job.”

He broke into a grin. “I got the job.”

This time I didn’t have to force a smile. I threw my arms around him. “I’m so happy for you.”

He pulled back slightly and looked at me with surprise. “Really? Don’t you want to know about the salary or the hours?”

“Well, yes, obviously. But I can tell you’re thrilled—aren’t you?”

“I am,” he said. “I think I’ll like it there, and it feels good to be wanted.”

“Then that’s enough.”

He looked skeptical. “The salary’s so-so,” he said. “But I can probably negotiate it a little, and so-so is still better than sporadic.”

“I agree.”

“I get three weeks of paid vacation each year, which is a lot more than I was expecting.”

“That’s really good. And how are the hours?” I said.

“Same as yours, though if Brian is to be trusted, it’s not the kind of job where I’ll have to take work home with me.”

“Lucky you,” I said, but not unkindly—I meant it.

He looked at me. “I know this might complicate the kids’ drop-offs and pick-ups, but I think we could figure something out with a sitter or the aftercare program at school.”

“You’ve thought this through.” I sounded impressed, because I was. Sanjay wasn’t usually a planner, but maybe this opportunity had brought out some secret organizational ability he hadn’t yet tapped into.

“I thought it through when I first sent in my résumé.”

“I’m proud of you. But . . .”

He knew what I was thinking. “Stop worrying about my writing, Penny. I’ve had almost six years to make it happen, and as we both know, it didn’t happen. This is the right next step. Maybe having less time will help me write the book faster.”

I really hoped that was true. “When do you start?”

“In two weeks.” His eyes were shining.

“What is it?” I said.

“My poker face gave me away again?” As a child, Riya once told me, Sanjay had vomited all over their front lawn minutes after stealing a toy from his neighbor. I had known he wanted to quit medical school from the day he mailed in a check confirming his enrollment.

It made me wonder how he had managed not to tell me about Christina sooner.

“You’re an open book in large print.”

“Darn it,” he said, pretending to be upset. “I was wondering if you would mind if I went to New York before I started work. Malcolm and I were emailing back and forth. He and Jon are going to London for a couple weeks and I could stay at their place. I wasn’t planning on going so soon, and I don’t know if I’ll even have my proposal ready, but I feel like I should take the opportunity to try to meet some agents and get the ball rolling while I can. We’d have to hire a sitter since there’s no camp that week. But I’ll drive instead of fly, so between that and staying at Malcolm’s, I’ll keep the costs as low as possible.”

I nodded. “You should go.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

He kissed the top of my head, then said, “Thank you, Penny. I feel like things are finally coming together for me, and I know it’s because you pushed me. I’m sorry you had to do that, but I’m glad you did.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

Things were coming together for him, and I was happy about that. But what about us ? Would the boost in his self-esteem be the glue that kept us together? It would help, but I couldn’t believe it would fix everything.

And why did I feel so envious of his trip? We hadn’t been to New York together in years, let alone anywhere else. I missed it—not even the city, but how I felt when I was there. Sure, now that Sanjay was working we might finally be able to afford a family vacation. But who knew how soon that would be—or what shape our marriage would be in then?

That was when I had another idea. But unlike my revelation about our marriage, I wasn’t going to blurt this one out to Sanjay. This time I was going to make sure everything was in place before I revealed a single thing.

The following morning, I ran into Russ in the break room. He was making a cup of coffee with the fancy machine that had recently been installed.

“Hey, Russ,” I said.

“Russell,” he said.

“Sorry,” I said, opening the fridge. I set the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich I had brought for lunch on a shelf and closed the door again. “You were Russ for more than four years, so I still forget sometimes. But do you really care what I call you?”

“I guess not,” he admitted, mixing the cream into his coffee with a wooden stirring stick. “You can call me whatever you want.”

“Thanks, Russ.”

He laughed.

“I actually have a favor to ask you,” I said.

“Hit me.”

“Remember when you first proposed us being co-directors two years ago? How you said if one of us had to travel or be away from the office for something like family medical leave, there would never be a gap in the way the department ran? Well . . . I know it’s short notice, but I was wondering if you’d cover for me next week.”

He frowned. “You’re not leaving, are you? Is this about our conversation the other night at the bar?”

I shook my head. “Nope, it’s not that. It’s . . .” For a split second, I considered feeding him a white lie. But weird vibes or not, we were friends, weren’t we? “It’s about my marriage.”

“Well, then, sure,” he said, like all I’d asked was whether he could grab me a cup of coffee while he was getting one for himself. “That’s important. And you deserve a break.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Now I just need to convince my mother-in-law to watch my children and Yolanda to let me take the time off.”

To my surprise, Riya quickly agreed to watch the kids. Yolanda was a harder sell. “Not possible,” she wrote after I emailed her to request a week of vacation. “The team needs more notice than that, especially with so few people in the office at the end of August.”

Her response wasn’t a surprise, per se, but it still made me angry—I was the only one on the senior management team who had not taken a full week off that summer.

But what could I do? I couldn’t quit. I wouldn’t throw a fit, and I wouldn’t retaliate by underperforming, because then I would mostly be punishing myself.

I thought about Sanjay’s request, and what he had said about me avoiding confrontation even when I was direct.

He was right—but not for long.

I closed the email and marched over to Yolanda’s office. When I got there an elderly couple was seated in front of her desk. They were immaculately dressed, and the woman was clutching a designer bag, which suggested they were major donors.

I may have been angry, but I wasn’t a complete imbecile; I continued past her door like I had never intended to stop and circled back around to my own. When I got to my desk, I emailed her to say I wanted to meet at her earliest possible convenience. Almost an hour later, Yolanda stepped into my office.

“There are policies and procedures,” she said in lieu of a greeting. “If you want to take a full week off, you need to follow them.”

I tilted my head up. “You asked what would incentivize my commitment to this department. And I finally figured it out. I could really—really— use a break.”

She stood in front of my desk with her hands resting on her hips. She was like a gazelle, her long, lean limbs quivering in anticipation of wherever she would dart off to next. “What about your work? You were recently out sick, and you’ve taken other time off this summer.” After Jenny’s death—we both knew what she was referring to. “I can’t imagine you’re caught up.”