On Paying Attention - Alternate

This story, when originally posted, had some important errors (as well as my usual spelling, punctuation, etc.); so, I have been trying to correct them. It looks like the best way is to submit an alternate version of the story. So, in many ways this telling is a repeat of the original - but there are significant differences.

A comment from QuickMagazine, helped me see I had missed on two parts of the story. What I wrote did not adequately tell the tale I set out to tell.

One thing which seemed obvious to me apparently isn't. If a spouse was in a position to cheat, what they say is of no value - it proves or disproves nothing. Innocent people will say they didn't cheat. Guilty people will say they didn't cheat. So hearing, I'm innocent might be expected, but provides no information.

I also missed on describing the romance from her point of view. I hope I have corrected both of those shortfalls.

This is a reconciliation between two married people lost in success. The betrayal is not infidelity, rather it is a loss of partnership.

As always, the undescribed sex in the story is between consenting adults. I appreciate comments, good and bad.

I read all comments and delete none. I laugh at those who take the time to read my story, then tell me it was a waste of time - (reminds me of the farmer who taught a pig to dance. A man marveled, "that must take an enormous amount of time." The farmer's simple reply, "What's time to a pig?") Not comparing myself or readers to pigs - merely saying reading stories one doesn't like, where there are nearly a million others seems a poor use of time.

A criticism of my stories is they can be too complex; I think that is legitimate, but it is how I write, sorry. My goal is always to offer a view that is unusual - or even unique.

Thanks for reading.

On Paying Attention

"... the monthly reports have all been submitted. I talked to Louise. Joyce told her she would be home by 7:00. She said Chinese sounded great and wanted a pork egg roll and the special fried rice. I ordered from Chow's Palace; they will deliver between 7:15 and 7:30."

"Thanks, Betty. I don't know what I'd do without you. It's almost 5:00; why don't you head for home."

Her smile showed she would be happy to leave. "Do you have everything you need?"

"I'm sure I do. The board report isn't until Wednesday next week. I think I'll go through these reports..."

"Take them home and go through them. If you don't, you know you'll be here at 7:30. If neither of you is home, AGAIN, Chow's will quit delivering."

That made me laugh. "When you're right, you're right." I started gathering my stuff to make sure another delivered meal didn't go to waste.

On my way home, I had a chance to order my thoughts. The company was going through a reorganization. Our location would change from an independent plant to the lead of four plants. A couple of months after the merger, our plant manager, Jeff White, was scheduled to retire. Almost certainly, his replacement would be me, Bill Davis, the plant comptroller, or Walter Simpson, the operations manager.

I will either get a big promotion to divisional CFO or a bigger promotion to divisional CEO. Life is good.

My wife, Joyce, is also going through a big career change. She started her own company, which has been a small, private concern. Her unique concept is a big success, and she is deciding how to expand.

Just months ago, we were helping our third child off to her senior year of college. We had no time to sit and mope over our empty nest. Our work filled our time and set the pace of our new lives.

I pulled into the driveway a few minutes past six. I went straight to our bedroom, removed my clothes, opened the sliding door, and got in the hot tub. Thirty minutes later I got out of the tub, put on my pajama bottoms and a robe, fixed myself a vodka tonic, and got the first of the reports. It was nearly 7:00.

I was starting the second report when the door from the garage opened, and Joyce came in.

"I'm home," she said lyrically.

I looked at my watch. "Great, dinner should be here in a..."

Ding Dong

"I'm up; I'll get it," Joyce said, heading for the front door.

I got up and grabbed two plates, two wine glasses, and the open bottle of Pinot Grigio and set them on the kitchen island. Joyce opened the bag, passed out the food and chopsticks, and dinner was served.

We were on our bar stools and starting to eat. I asked, "How was your day?"

"Hectic. I can't decide whether we want to incorporate or start another parallel entity."

She paused to take a bite. I started telling her about my day: "All the monthly reports came in today. I am trying to read them as though my responsibilities were more than financial."

I looked at my report, and she continued, "Parallel dialogs, again?" I nodded without looking up.

"If we incorporate, there is a much higher possibility we will make big money. But I don't know..."

She paused. My turn. "I wish Walt would start trying to be a part of a team. Jeff asked us to assemble a joint report, but Walt wants individual reports."

And so, the conversation went on. Politely taking turns speaking our monologs. It isn't like we don't listen to one another; well, maybe it is.

"You want to join me in the hot tub?" Joyce said, suggestively.

"I don't think I better. I'll join you when you get out."

She looked like she was going to say something but stopped. "Sounds like a date. You'll see the patio light go out, or do I need to call?"

"The light should be plenty. I'll look for it." Well, tonight is shaping up--a friendly dinner conversation followed by some overdue lovemaking. Life is good.

It was 8:00. I picked up the stack of reports. It is fascinating to do something you have done for fifteen years and try to do it differently. I was on the last report and looked; the patio light was off. It was time to head to the bedroom. I checked my phone. 11:45?! Where did the time go?

The bedroom was dark. Joyce's breathing told me she had given up waiting and was now sleeping soundly. Oh well.

Tuesday morning started like most mornings. I got up, as always, without an alarm, at 6:00. I started coffee, showered, dressed, poured a cup, and at 6:30--"Joyce, time to get up." She opened her eyes; I kissed her forehead and was off.

The first shift starts at 7:00. At 7:15, Walt has his production meeting. 7:30 is my financial meeting. As my meeting ended, I said, "Walt, can you hang back a minute? We need to decide what to tell Jeff."

"Let's just go talk to him."

Jeff was our boss; he had asked us to put a report together on how the acquisition should take place. Walt and I disagreed with the approach; he wanted to do it separately.

He told Jeff of his preference. Jeff, as is his way, just waited to hear more, without any indication of his opinion of what he'd heard so far.

Walt continued, speaking into the silence, "How would you like..."

"I would have liked you to work together. You want to work alone. Work alone and don't ask my advice." Jeff gave him a look, which made it clear the discussion was over.

At 3:00, my assistant, Betty, came into my office. "Louise called. She said Joyce is having a dinner meeting. You are on your own for dinner."

"Swell. It is her night to cook."

Betty laughed at me. "Her night to cook. That means it's Louise's night to call for the delivery. If you want, I'll call Louise and have her call--any preference?"

"Very funny, smart ass." I smiled at her. Like I tell her, when she's right, she's right. "No, I guess I can make do."

"The pioneers would be proud."

That's how the week went. One night, she was late; the next one, I was late. Friday, we both got home early. We were beat. We went to the hot tub and then to the pool. We split a sandwich and went to bed.

Saturday morning, we were both up bright and early. Breakfast is not a big deal to either of us. I put a pod in the coffee maker, my favorite dark roast. Joyce came into the kitchen as the cup was finishing.

"You want a coffee?"

"Do we have Caramel Vanilla Cream?"

I spun the pod holder and found one. "Is this what you want?"

"No, I was taking a survey on our coffee supply," she said, without mirth.

I decided that was not worth chasing. "Toast?"

"No thanks, I think I'll have cereal."

It's a big kitchen; we got our breakfast together, separately, and sat down in the den when the phone rang. We have a special speakerphone for these calls. I hit "talk." These Saturday morning calls are by phone, so neither mother nor daughter must get ready--other calls are by Skype. I'd explain why if I had any idea, since I don't...

"Good morning!" Joyce said, her voice full of love.

"Hi, Mom, what's up."

Joyce laughed. "I'd say we were sitting in the den waiting for your call, which is true--but we've only been sitting for about 30 seconds."

"Hi, Dad."

"Morning, Mary. Is Ben with you?"

"No, he went to the gym. What's up with you?"

Joyce answered, "It is an exciting time here. Your dad is working on a presentation to make the plant the center of a new corporate division. I am looking to expand my business. I think I know what I want to do."

"My parents are moguls; who knew?"

And so, the conversation started. Our older daughter and middle child had been married for more than a year. She called, like clockwork, every Saturday morning. The conversations were always a highlight of our weekend. We talked for about an hour, and Joyce pointed toward the pool (asking me to leave).

"Sweetheart, I have another call. I'll say goodbye for now," I said, trying to make a graceful exit.

"Daddy, you don't have another call. Mom wants to know if I am pregnant yet, and if not, why not. I swear, Mom, if you don't quit asking, I will start sending you pics of the wet spot in the bed as proof we're trying."

A laugh just squirted out of me. "Well, if I didn't think it was time for you two to talk alone before..." I said as I walked away. The call format came in handy; I dropped my shorts, removed my T-shirt, and headed for the hot tub.

Ten minutes later, Joyce joined me. Topless, but wearing her panties. Oh well, making love in a hot tub is not sanitary.

She filled me in on Mary's pregnancy progress. They had been trying for only three months, and it was unclear how much of that time the impact of her birth control pills was a factor.

We had fun talking about Mary and her new life. I was starting to overheat. "Do you want to get into the pool?"

"I can't go out there like this!"

"Joyce, the fence is ten feet high, there are trees everywhere, and you couldn't hit the next house with a good wedge shot; what's the problem?"

She just shook her head. The hot tub is adjacent to the house, has a roof, and has only a six-foot-wide opening toward the pool. The pool is outside, in the open. Maybe she feared drones.

The pool felt great. I swam for nearly an hour. I got out, dried myself, and headed for the bedroom. I dressed for my Saturday chores. Joyce was off doing hers already. I came in from fishing leaves out of the pool and saw Joyce had returned,

"We have reservations at Luigi's at 8:00," Joyce said as I walked past.

"Oh, great. Did Janey call?"

"No, I called her." She is a senior in college and has undoubtedly left home for the last time. "We established everything was good, everywhere, and hung up. I've spent more time with a wrong number." She laughed.

"She's about to graduate; she knows to call for money and come home for laundry."

Joyce laughed--how I love that laugh. "Sounds right to me."

Dinner was great. We talked about the girls and their lives. Then, we switched to Bill, Jr. Sunday at 2:00 p. m., his Skype. Bill had a nearing two-year-old son and an as-yet-sex-unknown nearing birth. Even eight months pregnant, Bill's wife, Carol, was a delight.

The Sunday Skype, with a grandson who now could communicate in more than grunts and less than full sentences, if anything, was better than the Saturday calls with Mary.

Bill III was hamming it up. As unbiased grandparents, we decided he was precocious, at a minimum, perhaps a true savant. We talked longer than usual. Bill Jr. finally cut us off from asking his son where his elbow (and so forth) was, and we talked about the upcoming birth.

We were on a true high after that. Dinner was great, and the lovemaking after dinner was spectacular; it was nearly unheard of again, later that night.

What a mess.

Our individual solutions are to be presented to our board tomorrow morning. We go before the board separately and have one hour to explain the acquisition.

Though nothing is promised, a betting person would put money on the winner of tomorrow's presentation to be the successor CEO. While Walt and I are the second- and third highest-paid employees, the CEO makes more than we combined. So, there is no pressure tomorrow. Ugh.

My team has done an extraordinary job. I came home early with copies of the presentation to make notes for tomorrow. I have been at it for a while. I wish Joyce were home so she could make us dinner.

I looked at my phone. Shit, it's nearly 9:00 p. m., no wonder I am hungry.

I heard some mumbling.

"What?" Can't she see I am busy? I looked back at the numbers.

Mumbling, then she raised her voice. "Well, it is nearly 11:00, and I just got home. Aren't you curious?"

"Say, I'm in the middle of tomorrow's presentation. Everything rides on it. Can you make me a sandwich?"

Her back stiffens. "Well, I can see I was right. I met with Dave tonight. I knew nothing was here for me, so I stayed after dinner. He's been trying to get in my panties for a while now. I almost let him. What do you say to that?"

"Even peanut butter and jelly, anything, thanks."

She practically shouted, "Asshole!"

Her curt reply tells me not to expect a sandwich. What got into her? "Look, I am a little distracted but tomorrow is a big day. Can't this wait until tomorrow night? I'll take you anywhere you want to go." I continued studying the graph. How can that number be 14.9%? I know it was 15.2% yesterday. What changed?

She mumbled again, "I decided even though we are both devoted to our jobs rather than each other, I would stay faithful. That has been a key to our marriage. But I swear to you, if you don't listen, I am going to go back to the hotel. It will serve you right if I decide to fuck myself happy." There was a pause, then in a much louder tone, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

The loud tone again. "Sure, I understand." The shift in interest rate assumptions changed it to 14.9; how did I miss that?

"You are impossible!"

"No need to raise your voice. We'll get to this tomorrow, like I said. Don't worry about the sandwich."

"I warned you. Didn't I."

"Warned me, sure." I've been here before. If I admit I have no idea what she is talking about, I'll definitely be in hot water.

"I hope you are prepared to live with the consequences. I will see you tomorrow."

14.9? It could be explained in Chart 3. That sounded like the door to the garage. I wonder where she is off to at this time of night?

Walt and I were sitting outside the boardroom at 10:00 a. m. Some guy I didn't know came out and said, "Walt?"

Walt practically vaulted out of his chair.

"They have asked to hear you first." He turned and looked at me. "Bill?" Who else would I be?

Instead, I smiled and said, "Yes."

"You might as well go back to your office. We may get to you before, but likely after lunch."

In a situation like this, I wanted to show cooperation. So, I asked, "Will you call, or should I come back here?"

"Good point. I will call. No telling when it will be."

By 11:30, I was sure it would be after lunch. By 2:00 p. m., I was tired of being on edge and waiting. At 2:40, he called, "We are ready for you."

"Thanks, I will be right there." Swell!?! They decided to take a long lunch. Now, I must hope no one had so much to drink that they nod off.

I took the elevator up three floors and walked back to the boardroom. The door was open. Jeff stood, came over, and shook my hand as I walked in. As we greeted one another, I noticed trays of food left from lunch--they had spent so much time with Walt that they did not go out.

"Bill, you know everyone except Donna Knight, CEO of Adams." She was at the far end of the table. She stayed seated and raised her hand, saying, "Bill."

"Donna, a pleasure."

My presentation was good. The board made themselves intentionally hard to read. I was asked two questions and was finished in one hour and seven minutes. Walt could have taken three hours, maybe more. I knew better than trying to draw an inference.

They picked him apart, got to know the topic, and had fewer questions for me. That would be good--I hit the mark, he missed. It could be bad--it took a while, but he sold them; I was a mere afterthought.

It was only my long-term future at stake. Why worry?

When I got back to my office, it was nearing 4:00 p. m. The whole team was there, proving that the spy network still existed among the company's assistants.

"How did it go?" was the question from about half a dozen simultaneously. I gave them my thoughts and was rewarded with accolades--they were sure Walt failed, as demonstrated by his long presentation, and I succeeded. I would have been buoyed by their optimism, but it was a combination of wishful thinking and sycophantic groveling.

I was on my way home before 5:00, tired as hell.

I walked in and said, "Joyce." Her car was in the garage. I heard her say, "In here," coming from the family room and walked her way. I stopped at the bar near the room's end and went for the scotch. "Want anything?" I asked.

"Well, you are obtuse, if nothing else." Her words were not as nasty as her tone.

"Good to see you, too." I was not going to take her crap.

"Do you remember I left last night, threatening to go fuck myself happy?"

That hit me like a ton of bricks. Is that what she was talking about last night? "Uh, no, can't say that I do."

"Well, I did. You didn't seem to care, so I returned to the hotel where he was staying..."

"Now, wait just a fucking minute. You're saying because I was distracted last night, before the presentation of my life, I might add, that you had tacit permission to go off and fuck yourself happy?"

She stared at me, gathering her thoughts. "Bill, if you are not concerned enough to listen to what is said, then you are not concerned about what might actually be done. As to the presentation of your life, you have one of those, or the meeting of your life, or something about three or four times a year."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yes, Bill, I did."

"I asked did you fuck Dave last night?" I kept my voice low, but my glare demonstrated I demanded a straight answer.

"No, you actually asked if I thought I had tacit permission to fuck Dave last night." Her smile told me she was not the least intimidated.

"Play coy with me? Alright, did you think you had tacit permission?"

"You didn't care enough to listen to the warning, so you certainly don't have an argument about how I took your disinterest." She was smug. She liked playing with the words rather than trying to communicate.

"Joyce, this has a bad ending. I will ask you once more, did you fuck Dave last night?"

"You son of a bitch. Listen to me. I laid it out for you last night. I left. You didn't listen. You didn't wonder. You were worried about the important things in your life, the Higby project, or whatever project of your life you were working on."

I cut in; I wanted an answer, not a lecture. "Did you?"

"If it were important to you, you would have acted last night. If this has a bad ending, based on your lack of interest--it does. I will see you in hell before I hint at what I did or didn't do while you were counting beans or whatever you accountants do."

"If that is your response, we're done. I'll pack some clothes."

"As you wish."

I turned and went to the garage. I got three suitcases and headed for our bedroom. It took me a couple of hours to get what I thought I'd need for the next few weeks. I stacked the small case on the rolling one and carried the third. I stopped by the door to the family room to find Joyce reading a book!

"You knew infidelity was one and done. I am sorry you threw twenty-six years away." I said it as matter-of-factly as I could.

"You knew it too. It is too bad you no longer care enough about me to even wonder what I am talking to you about."

Ouch. She has a point.

"Joyce, I apologize for my inattentiveness last night. But strong as your argument may be, it does not excuse adultery."

"Bad behavior is its own reward. I am not prepared to live alone until your sixty-fifth birthday, only to find we've grown apart, no longer have any common interests, and then live alone, together for the rest of our lives."

I always hate arguing with Joyce. She doesn't take a stand unless she is sure she is right, and when she is sure, she doesn't back down. There is no compromise, only learning whether I can live with her view and she with mine. "Sorry it came to this. You will hear from my attorney."

"Maybe. Be well, Bill."

Not with a bang but with a whimper. And with that, I left.

The company had guest housing and two nice, if somewhat small, apartments. I knew neither was occupied, so I muscled my way into one of them. They'd only let me stay a couple of weeks, but hopefully, by then, I'd know my path.

I called my attorney, Josh Billings, first thing Monday morning. He was in court but would be available Friday morning, so I made an appointment.

Life went on. I learned from Walt that they had asked him many questions. He felt good about his answers and did not know whether they were leaning his way. "I get it. Mine lasted just two questions over an hour. I was met with great stone faces as I left. I would love to tell you they grilled you because they didn't like it and didn't me because they did. But it could easily be that they asked you until they were satisfied you were right and just gave me a courtesy listen."

"I see it the same way. We'll get along well--whichever one of us comes out on top." Walt's smile was warm. He meant it.

"I think so, too. We know almost nothing in common; we will require the other's support, which is the basis of good cooperation."

I've said nothing to anyone, save Jeff, whom I needed to inform of my use of the company apartment. The look in his eye told me a divorce would not enhance my chances of upward mobility.

Tuesday was non-eventful. There was no word from the board. I think Jeff is creating a pressure cooker to see how we react. I hate games. Now, my whole life is a game.

On Thursday, at 2:30, my assistant told me a process server wanted to see me personally. She entered my office, handed me an envelope, and took a photo of me holding it. She thanked me and left.

I opened the envelope. There was a one-page letter:

"From the offices, blah, blah, to me, and ccs: to all three children"--if you can call 20, 23, and 25 children.

"Notice of intent to file for dissolution of marriage.

"Joyce Davis notifies William Davis of her intention to file for dissolution of their marriage thirty (30) days from receipt of this notice unless William Davis wishes to initiate an action to see if their differences might be resolved.

"The issue which led to this notice is Mrs. Davis arrived home and told her husband a man had been trying to seduce her for some time. Because the relationship between the Davises is strained, Mrs. Davis nearly gave in. However, she instead returned home to inform her husband. Despite several attempts, Mr. Davis never listened to Mrs. Davis, and when she threatened to return, possibly consummating the affair, he said nothing.

"On his return the following day, he was outraged at the possibility Mrs. Davis may have had sex outside their marriage. He said unless she assured him, she did not, he would file for divorce. He subsequently left their residence and has not returned.

"It is Mrs. Davis's contention that a husband who pays so little attention to his wife has already walked away from any meaningful relationship. Mrs. Davis's cause for dissolution will be irreconcilable differences. The term is not accurate. If such a cause existed, she would have her attorney file under irreconcilable indifferences.

"No answer is sought from this notice. Unless Mr. Davis, alone or through his attorney, moves to stop Mrs. Davis, she will file for dissolution thirty days hence."

The letter was signed, notarized, and sent to the three young Davises.

Here we go. I don't like games, and she just upped the stakes of this one. I've been married to her for a while. This is her way of saying you started this, and unless you stop it... She wants me to say we must quit our separate lives and find a way to be happy empty nesters.

What do I want?

Truth be told, our lives suck. We have done what many do. We spent our first four years making three babies, the next twenty-one making them successful young people, and then, when they left, plunged headlong into insane work schedules.

We are happy. Well, we aren't unhappy. We are too busy to know much about happiness or its absence. We rarely fight. Sure, were I honest, I'd say we rarely interact. She was right about irreconcilable indifferences.

Damn her. She's dug in. She'll back down the day the devil starts selling ice cream. If I use my intellect rather than my pride, I must say she has a point. We have a little less than twenty years until I retire at 65.

If we have gotten this far apart pursuing careers, we may not recognize each other by the time we reach our 60s. I would totally buy her argument had she not, in her own words, gone out and fucked herself happy. How do I deal with that?

I walked into my friend and attorney Josh Billings's office at precisely 10:00. Josh became an attorney because he did not have the personality to be an accountant. His ability to make plants wilt with a stare gave him a leg up in law school.

"Your note says you want to meet about filing for divorce. Your wife's notice suggests you need to contact her about a resolution. Why are you here?"

"And a warm hi to you, too, Josh. How is the wife?"

He shook his head. "Accountants should not try humor, Bill. We can chat if you like; it's still $400 an hour."

"We are friends, Josh. How does all this strike you?"

"Bill, damn it, I hate representing friends. There are no friends in the arena into which you are headed. I know her attorney, hell, I suspect you do, too. She will not enjoy running you through the mill--but she gets paid to, so she will. It will hurt me to fight Joyce, her attorney, and not get you what you want, but I will fight, and you won't get what you want. What do you want me to say?"

He had a point. I asked, "You think I should meet with her?"

If you were a stranger, I would ask, what do you have to lose?"

It's clear, when I left, it pissed her off. "She fucked around on me, Josh."

"Let's shoot her."

"You're right. I guess we should meet. Do you have a conference room?"

"Bill, her notice implies you have your head in your ass. My legal advice is don't take steps to prove she's right."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I was starting to laugh. Josh loved to provoke me. He wanted me out of combat mode so that I could think.

"I can hire a consultant. Maybe we can put it on a spreadsheet, so you get what I am saying."

That made me chuckle. "Okay, dickhead, lay it on me."

"Take her to your favorite restaurant. Buy a bottle of wine. Not just any wine, one with a year on the label and a cork on the top. See if in an environment where you used to love one another, it causes either of you morons to think about what you are doing."

He went too far, so I said, "Morons? She fucked around!"

"Objection, your honor, assumes facts not in evidence." He faced the other way. "Sustained." Back at me, "She is unwilling to say what she did. Why not presume she didn't?"

"I can't," I said without any thought.

"Let me use small words. She stormed out of your home, saying she was going to be unfaithful. What can she say now that proves whether she honored her threat or not?"

"I don't think it was a real threat. She was making a point."

"What was the point?"

"I pay no attention to her."

"And...?"

"It is one of our problems. I don't think she cheated. That would be a real problem, and she knows it."

"So, what is your next move?"

"You're right. Although, when I tell this story in the future, getting together with her will be my idea, asshole."

He had a smug look. He's a lawyer, so a smug look is redundant. "Let me know what I can do." He hugged me. It costs $400 an hour to get hugged by this guy.

Never act in haste. I preach that. Too bad I didn't practice it. I left her. She showed no emotion. She has set her course, and it will be hard to get her to change.

Do I want her to? What do I want? I was learning very quickly that living in a small apartment met my sense of order and little else. It was lonely. You know, as many nights as I spent alone recently, I had my head down, working. Why didn't I see that as lonely? I wonder, was she lonely?

I sat in my car. There was no sense in waiting, so I dialed her office. "Ms. Davis's office, may I help you?"

"Wow, Louise, a little formal, aren't we?"

"Not really. What may I do for you, Mr. Davis?" Women can say the nicest words and convey the opposite thought; I wish I could.

"Might I speak to my wife?"

"She is very busy. I will see if she is available."

Make a note: There will be no Christmas card for Louise this year.

"Hi, Bill."

"Hi. I called to ask you out." I was as warm as I could be.

There was a smile in her voice. "Like on a date."

"I've missed that tone. Yes, exactly like a date. I was thinking Chez Georges."

"Wow, that would be a date. I accept. When?"

"I have a lot of free time, as it turns out. One time better than another?" I was half-whining. I shook my head; why couldn't I keep the tone more positive?

"Tomorrow is Saturday; I'll bet you can get a reservation on Saturday."

"I'll text you. For some reason, Louise is not very friendly toward me these days." I growled; I didn't mind throwing Louise under the bus.

"I have always told her I value loyalty." Now, her tone matched mine.

We both laughed nervously, and I ended the call.

You could get a reservation on a Saturday--six or seven weeks out. It's time for Jeff's office. I called, and his assistant, Andrea, answered. After we exchanged pleasantries, I launched right in, "I have a big favor to ask. I need a reservation at Chez Georges tomorrow night for the Missus and me."

"I see. Anything else? You want the King of England to attend, too?" She is a piece of work. Playful and connected.

"Well, it is short notice, and there's the time difference, so just the two of us--unless that is unreasonable."

She sighed warmly, if one can sigh warmly. "I am in the unreasonable business; 7:30, 8:00?"

"Wow, you are good. 7:30 would be wonderful."

"Done."

"Can I let her know? Or should I wait for your confirmation?"

"You doubt me?"

"I'll let her know. I owe you another one--I've kind of lost count."

"Jeff tells me you earn it every day. I'm happy to help. I hope it goes well."

"Me too." There are lots of skills in the world. How can anyone call a booked restaurant and do what she promised?

I texted: "A real date would begin with me picking you up. The reservation is at 7:30. Can we say 7:00?"

A text returned, "Will you knock or use your key?"

"Let's make it formal. I will knock."

"cu"

Not ten minutes passed. A text from her: "Could you make it at 6:00? We can chat at home for a while."

"Expect a knock at 6:00."

It never rains in August, but it was pouring. I pulled into the garage and knocked on the door to the house.

"Clever boy." She reached out, and we hugged. I mean, hugged. I smiled, "That felt good."

I reached beside me and grabbed the two dozen pink roses. "As I recall..." I got no more out before she kissed me.

"You are sweet. Come in."

I started toward my chair in the family room. She said, "Wait, what about the loveseat in the living room? Care to sit there?"

"Sure, thanks."

It is a small gesture but a positive one.

She held up her glass. "I am having white wine; care for some? Or a drink?"

"How about some iced tea? I am planning on wine and at least one cognac."

I went to sit, and she joined me quickly with two iced teas. "This sounds like the best starter for this evening," she said.

We clinked glasses. "What would make this easier, Joyce, is if you'd tell me you didn't sleep with Dave."

Her smile dimmed a bit. "Bill, let me ask you this. Do you think I did?"

"To tell you the truth, no, I don't."

"Then, let it rest."

"I am not sure I can do that..."

"So, I get down on my knees and swear, Bill, I didn't cheat. How does that change anything?"

"That is a problem..."

"Stop. Let me explain it this way. I am unhappy. You are, too. We have been strangers for a while now. So much money is coming in that it is hard to be miserable. So, we are happy. Lonely and happy."

"Wait, you started unhappy and ended up happy with the same thought."

She reached out and took my hands. "That's the problem. Neither of us was raised with any expectation we would make big money. It is hard to come home to food catered by a world-class restaurant, sit in our custom hot tub, or swim in the pool and be unhappy.

"But a week goes by, then another, and when we think back, of the last eight nights we were together twice. Or, in the last nineteen nights, we were together five times. Then, boil down the five - on one, I worked all evening, and on two, you worked. On the other two, we were together, in the tub or the pool, but really, we were alone, unwinding. When we argued, I said something about the Higby project. When was that?"

"Close to three years ago."

She shook her head. "That's what I thought. What you've said since then is a pile of the same ol', same ol'. We've become roommates--and not particularly friendly roommates."

The problem was growing. Where is this coming from? She's happy, but not. She has experienced this for a few months or three years. I was getting testy. "Now, you are saying three years?"

"No, not really. We had an excuse when the kids depended on us. When Janey left, it should have brought us closer. Instead, we're more distant."

"That is not an excuse for infidelity."

She stood up, fought off a tear, straightened herself, and said, "I am not going there. We have real problems. We can talk about those and see where we go, or smile and part. It is your choice."

It is decision time. She stood looking down at me; whether she did or didn't, she would not say. She will divorce me, or I her. Deep down, I don't think she would do that. I think she got pissed off and went and spent a night away from home.

She is, at least, partially correct. Our problem, not just that night, is that we went from lovers to parents to executives and lost ourselves. Do I want her back? Or is it more convenient to say unfaithful--divorce, period?

"How about we talk about us--over dinner." I tried to look upbeat as I said it.

That made her cry. She tried not to show it and quickly disappeared into our bedroom--and I suspect the ensuite bath. She was gone for quite a while, reappearing at 6:55. She looked beautiful. "Let's go eat."

It is hard to describe what Joyce has done. First, you need to understand Joyce never met a stranger. People go to birthing classes for a reason; Joyce started building her network there.

Joyce discovered many of our peers wanted to return to work faster than being a good mother would allow. Some needed the money, and others loved the work. Both men and women gave her ideas. Our group consisted of professional people, laborers, and house cleaners, all wanting or needing to work. Networks tend to be of people with similar traits, jobs, or education. Not so with Joyce; hers became everyone she ran across.

Add to that, she has great entrepreneurial instincts. Many of her peers from birthing classes needed to get back to work and were prevented by needing childcare. One of the husbands in our group was a real estate developer, stuck with a strip mall in need of repair. Joyce found a couple of small contractors willing to take on the repairs for a reduced fee and percentage of operating income. She found attorneys and other professionals, including the developer himself, to rent the renovated spaces--and at the center of it was free daycare, provided in large part by mothers who'd recently given birth.

Free childcare was the true innovation. Nearly everyone who worked in the building had at least one child. In theory, they provided their own childcare. In practice, the people worked out schedules, where the mothers worked 3/4 of the time and took care of four children 1/4 of the time. The city wanted people certified in childcare, but since this was a consortium of people providing their own childcare, the city could not make it into a professional setting.

The business model was incredibly successful. Individuals started the work, requiring little initial capital. Quickly, enough work was done, and some income was generated even during construction. As each project was completed, there was daycare for children and crews to do maintenance and cleaning--all of whom were looking for a place where they could work and care for their infant children.

Best of all, for Joyce and her developer partner, the concept was transferrable to other locations. She was co-founder of Environments, LLC. Environments provided office space, daycare, cleaning services, construction, furniture rental, and was considering cafeterias. They also had a service company in their facilities that answered phones, did accounting, made purchases, and provided various other services for small businesses.

This type of business does not generally exist because no one has enough connections to find the people to provide the needed work and the companies that require the work. Joyce, her friends, and contacts kept finding matches that enabled facilities to be complete and provide all the services, including daycare, that kept people seeking work with Environments.

On the way to the restaurant, I asked her how things were going. She squirmed a little. "I will talk about the business. Digital Dynamics is consolidating its three locations and moving more than one thousand people here. We will build and maintain their headquarters, including the largest daycare in the state."

It occurred to me the squirm was about the fact the client was the guy she may have screwed--well, if she is a whore, at least she is not a cheap whore. But I just nodded. I left it alone.

I gave her a five-minute thumbnail of my board presentation. Then, "Okay, all that is out of the way, I buy dinner unless you bring up business. If I bring it up, I'll owe you another dinner. Agreed?"

She was beaming her agreement as we arrived at valet parking. I had never been here in the rain. They had a massive awning over the valet parking spot, which enabled us to walk into the restaurant without getting a drop of water on us.

We were quickly seated in a small booth facing the fireplace. As I looked around, we had the best seat in the house. On one day's notice--more than impressive.

I ordered escargot and an accompanying half-bottle of their recommended white wine.

"So, you start. What's wrong, and what should we do about it?"

"First, Bill, I love you. I hate that we are here. But we are. I don't think it's unusual; everyone has heard of midlife crisis. People our age look up and wonder what they are doing together; not long after that, they are not."

She paused. I thought of saying something but didn't have anything constructive to add, so I waited.

"Why do you say what's wrong?"

"Well, we're here, doesn't that say there is a problem?"

"Bill, you are the best problem solver I have ever met. You analyze, see the root causes, and build a plan. What's your plan for us?"

"That's one of the things that bothers me. We built a plan and created a life around that plan. And we have done an extraordinary job. Great kids, who now are creating their own successes. And we are at the top of our professions. We set out to be the best and we are."

"Bill, you live in an apartment. Don't take this wrong, but I am all alone at night and barely notice the difference. Before, we were together, alone together, but together."

"But that is just the phase we are in. You are expanding, we are merging, that will be over and things can settle down."

The escargot and wine arrived. We stopped and enjoyed them. The waiter took our dinner order and we continued our discussion.

"You said things will be over. But they never are. We go from one to the next, to the next. The other thing you said is we had a life plan. Maybe we did or do, but the plan runs us. When are we going to just enjoy one another?"

"We are reaping the rewards of doing so well. One day, we are going to retire, travel the world, go first class, all because we executed our plan so well. That reminds me. I want to ask you something. I must ask it right; I don't want to insult you in any way."

She laughed. "Ask right or you might insult me, must be a doozy of a question."

"I have wondered how you do what you do. You don't plan. As far as I can tell, you don't have a strategy. You gather people together and somehow, they fit together in such great fashion everybody makes money. It's too good to be true, but it is true. I know it isn't luck, but what is it? How do you do it?"

"I listen to people; they know what they need. I am yet to find a situation where people on both sides of the same need aren't seeking help. A guy who needs some construction work, and some people wanting to start a construction crew..."

"But I couldn't do that. How do you align without a plan?"

"They may need to plan, I don't. I help people see a need and how to fill it. Most times, I don't know what they do - fortunately they do."

I heard her words, but it wasn't enough, "I'm sorry, I guess I'll just be limited to admiring how good you are at what you do. Fortunately, you don't need my help; I wouldn't have a clue."

"Why did you ask?"

"You are expanding. Your world is changing. You don't have a plan or a strategy. But you keep moving forward. Maybe if I could understand how, I could help."

She looked stunned. Sitting quietly for more than a couple of beats. She was working through something; I decided to wait.

She set her wine glass down, needing her hands to talk, "Truly amazing. I built all of this by listening to people and seeing their needs even when they could not. Everything I do is intuitive. I get the two sides together, tell them they offer the solution to the other; then, they create a plan, they find the solution. Now, I need to expand. It takes organization and planning. It takes a strategy. I have it sitting right beside me and I didn't see it."

I had to think about my response. "Our life has been about achieving what we set out to do. We did well. But our support for one another has never been direct. That is why we are drifting apart."

"That is a bit of a leap for me. What do you mean, never been direct?"

"We set many priorities. Raising great children was probably our top goal. You had the biggest part; you stayed at home with them and taught them to be all they are today. I supported you, but it was your role. When you needed help, you told me what to do and I did it."

That hit her wrong, she huffed, "I hardly bossed you around!?!"

"That's not my point. You were the leader, though. If you needed me to do something--it was a task. You told me what it was and I did it. But there was an equally important part of our major goal. We had to live in the district with the best schools. The kids had to belong in that neighborhood. That took money."

"Oh, I see what you are saying. We plunged in, working very hard on our three biggest successes. Now, we are continuing what we did. We must stop and look at supporting each other today."

"I don't want to let this go unstated. A big reason we did so well is you figured out how to make more money than most and do it while being a full-time mother. Since Janey left for college, and you have had real time, your business has more than doubled. I'm embarrassed--I don't even know how many of you there are now."

"Eleven of us. But that could double immediately, then grow at some huge rate for years. That is the problem. I don't have any idea how to do that."

Our meal came. The sommelier was very proud of the wine he chose for us, at my request. Joyce and I agreed it was a magnificent wine. I wondered how many Benjamins would change hands for my flamboyance. Oh well.

We were quiet for a few minutes, enjoying a great meal. "Here is what I think. Your expansion is a big deal. You also have a chance that no entrepreneur ever gets. A person in whom you have absolute trust is available to you to make a tiny operation behave like a big company."

"Can you do that?" She set her silverware down. "My question is, do you have the time to do it?"

I held up a finger, chewing to get to the point that I could talk comfortably. Chewing does allow one to think. "That is a big question. A really big question. I think I can figure out the scope in a couple of days. My guess is it will be a full-time job." I paused, took a sip of wine, "We would both need to think about that - hard."

"Enjoy your food. I need to ponder that for a while; see what I think about it."

We didn't speak of anything other than food for the next little while. When the meal was complete, she ordered crème brulé, and I asked for a Louis XIII cognac.

"You don't order like a guy considering giving up his gainful employment," she said playfully.

I added to her tease, "I thought it appropriate to set a tone with a future employer."

"That makes me nervous. I don't want to be your boss."

"Well, that is ten steps or more away. I will propose we form a holding company, with the principal directors being you and me. We'll, need someone to cast a tie-breaker vote; if it comes to that. You would run your company like you do now. When you need my services, you would technically ask the holding company to hire me."

"That might work. We both would be employer and employee. See, this is why we have been successful. It scares me. You can see the work that needs to be done and already have an outline of how to do that work. That isn't important to me. We are here, trying to avoid a divorce. How does what you propose resolve that?"

"Logic. We have drifted apart because of the lack of a common goal. This could be the first of our goals to get back together. My immediate thought, when working together came to mind was this it would cost me the top job--and to tell the truth, I had no emotion around that."

"You have fought so hard! You are living alone because you could not spend two minutes listening to me. Now, it doesn't make any difference to you?"

"You said it yourself. We didn't set out to be rich and famous. 'My parents are moguls, who knew,' describes it, too. I set out with a reason for making money. Now, the reason is consumption. I have no idea what the wine and cognac cost, but more than a couple thousand dollars. Think of it."

"You enjoyed it."

"Sure, who wouldn't? But do I want to be a stranger in my own home so on the rare occasion we go out, I am able to spend a ton of money?"

"Why would you go from that to my partner?"

"Simple; you need me. I love doing that work, and now, it would be in support of you; of us. Now, the question is, do you want me?"

She stared back at me. The answer was neither a strong yes nor a big no. But what was it?

"Bill, this is easier for you and that great, logical brain. You can follow the logic and know where it leads. That works for you. I judge with my heart. I can't figure things out. Right now, it hurts. It hurts because I was so convinced that we were finished that I almost let a man seduce me. Then, I came home and told you, and threatened to go back and do it, and you didn't even listen. Then, you left. I was beside myself."

"But surely you see what I lay out is a good path."

"I do. And much more than that, I love you. I couldn't believe we were about to divorce. We must make this work. But my heart does not react like your brain. Give me some time."

"Well, it's cliché but, bless your heart."

That got a big smile from her. "You've let it guide you more than once, you know."

"I do. For a fact, I do. And so we start from the same place: my logic was unaware of an issue. Your lawyer's letter hit it just right--irreconcilable indifferences. We need to rebuild for a bit. Maybe we should see a counselor."

That got an even bigger smile. "Counseling is a good step. Here is what bothers my heart. I desperately need your help in my business. When you mentioned you could help, it hit me hard. I had not sensed it; I had not seen it. You are the one who would have always steered me right in the past, but we are so far apart you didn't know what I needed."

I started to respond and she held her hand out, palm toward me.

"I want to know I am not going back to a familiar setting, with the man I love, because of his skill set. But I have an offer for you."

"Sounds intriguing. Lay it on me."

"Why don't you take me home. We'll spend some time together, getting reacquainted, then tomorrow, we'll go back to how we are and decide what we need to do next."

"Well, an offer like that is too good to turn down."

It was quite an evening. Sex with a long-time partner might not have mystery, but it does offer a bunch of things that two people caring about one another develop over time. I felt lucky to survive; not too long later, it was nearly miraculous to survive--and would have been worth it, even if those were my last moments.

In the morning Joyce said she had a contact - a counselor. She wondered if I would be wary of one of her choices. "You must be kidding, Joyce. You know everybody. Your heart is trying to get us on a path; I like our chances."

With that I went back to my apartment and then to work. It was Sunday, but what else was I going to do? I sat at my computer and started writing questions for Joyce to answer, to help her decide how to change, what to change, and to what to change.

I was amazed that I knew so much about what she did--and, at the same time, so little. I had picked up from her, so I knew conceptually what she did, but not any real detail. I had never learned anything in my life that way. I always gathered the details, ordered them, and from that developed the concepts.

Counseling was hard. The counselor told us more than once that she should be paying us. She had never seen two people in a long-lasting relationship who were emotionally as far apart.

Things started to make sense to me. I needed to understand. I use understanding to create order. On the other side, things resonate with her; they are right at the core or they are not. Reason and logic did not help her. We drifted apart, a confident guy tried to seduce her, I continued to ignore her, and my leaving her finally broke the trust between us. It could not be rebuilt. It had to be re-established.

I spent a whole session trying to get them to see that her threat of infidelity broke my trust, momentarily. When I understood what happened, I was sure she had not been unfaithful, and the trust was rebuilt instantly. Both Joyce and the counselor understood what I said and told me that with her it was different. She could not understand her way to some different feeling. It had to be there. Or it wasn't.

So, we spent time talking about things. Most of them were things that made her love me. Things that showed she needed me and I needed her. Then, we'd hit on some darker thought; the counselor helped her see that nothing is perfect, and the longer people are together, the more likely some of these things would show themselves.

We went three times and she suggested I move back home. In all, we attended weekly sessions for three months. In the end, Joyce felt the bonds reforming. She was ready to try, just the two of us.

The calls with the kids helped. When things don't feel normal, do normal things. Our kids were independent and on their own, but there was a strong link among us. That link was stronger than our marriage; it made us a family.

Once I made the move back, we began working every night. Understanding her business at the level I needed--which was often something she had to discover. I could see there would be a job for me if that is what we decided to do. Joyce was hesitant. She did not want me to give something up as some sort of grand gesture.

Jeff called me into his office.

"Has the board reached a decision yet?" I asked, weakly.

"Actually, it has. It reached it a few weeks ago. I've been waiting for you to talk to me."

"I've been working on deciding what I want to do. I guess, from your statement, you know that. I take it I am not the candidate; the future CEO."

"Don't do it that way. Tell me what you have to say."

Jeff and his games. "Ok, I wonder if there is a way I can get an early retirement? I am pretty sure I am going to go into business with my wife."

"Oh, so that's what it is. I knew it was something. The board did not like the fact Walt refused a team presentation. They were leaning your way. In fact, depending on what you said, I think I could still make it happen. But the fire went out in you. I didn't feel comfortable. We have a candidate from outside who now will get the job."

"I appreciate your faith in me, I truly do."

"You have earned that, dozens of times over. Let me ask you, would you be open to some sort of contract work for a few years? We could use your help, and it would build years of service. If we can get your years up to 30, a retirement package would make sense."

"That means a lot. I want to take Joyce's business to another level. But we'll miss my income; consulting would help that."

"Put together a proposal. At least 15 hours a month for 15k."

"Starting in two months, ok?"

"Done. Next month we'll make the announcement. I need to know your replacement sometime in the next couple of weeks."

Back at home, I started with, "I had an interesting day today," trying to sound nonchalant.

"I can tell from your tone. Pray, tell me more."

"My status at the company is going to change in two months. I am going to become a consultant. Two days a month for 15k."

"I have an idea what you can do with the rest of your time."

"You're over the fear of a grand gesture?"

"You just ended that. Offering to be brave is bullshit. This isn't that."

"I'm dying to know, what is important about my move, to you?"

"I have watched you for years. You dive into what you do, and you love it. Recently, that love changed from your job to my company. You are totally into helping shape the company and make it grow."

"So, your interest; more professional? Or personal?"

"My hesitance was personal. We have years before we'll retire. We could not go on as we were. But we couldn't go on with you leaving what you love to support me. That's not what this is. We have found a way to be partners at work, to help us be partners at home. It's perfect for me. I get the best possible person to help the business grow. My husband and I can move closer to one another in our work lives, for the first time ever--and what makes it a total win is it's what you want to do."

"I must wear my emotions on my face in ways I am not aware of. Jeff told me I had the CEO job, but he knew I was losing interest. He found another candidate and was merely waiting for me to tell him I had moved on."

"It's what almost broke us, sweety. I wasn't kidding when I told you I almost slept with that cretin."

"Cretin? He is very rich and incredibly good looking--what's wrong with him?"

"Absolutely nothing - in his opinion, which is why I can't stand him."

"Yet, you almost broke us up over him."

"No, I almost broke us up over you! I couldn't have told you then, but counseling helped me see it this way. When raising kids was our big goal, we were a team, a really great team. We had separate roles, both were important, and we relied 100% on each other. When Janey left, we had no common goal and were no longer a team. We were two individuals pursuing selfish interests. There is nothing wrong with that, but it was making both of us unhappy--and we were too satisfied, too fulfilled, and too tired to sit and even figure out we were unhappy. I decided when I told you that outrageous tale and you just said uh-huh, we were done. Unless you could find the way back."

"Well, if that doesn't beat all."

"What?" She could see that light bulb over my head turn on.

"I do love figuring things out. Seeing a mess, like everyone else--but knowing I can figure out what is wrong and how to fix it gives me great satisfaction. Learning your business has been new, challenging, and requires skills I've not used in a while. I really thought that is why I wanted to make the move."

"And it isn't?"

"Well, yes, it is, but not for the reason I thought. You're right. This forms our partnership again. I thought the work itself was what intrigued me--you could be selling hot pretzels and that would have the same appeal. Helping you makes this more worthwhile than helping Jeff or Walt. Even if they made me the CEO, so what? That gets more compensation, but you don't care about that and neither do I. Finding the way to be a team is what we needed."

Joyce started laughing.

"And what's so funny?"

"I was just thinking. You've not seen me do that before, but I've done it often in my work life."

"What?"

"When something is barely limping along, you find ways to fix it. My approach is to totally destroy it--and then to watch those who can, put it back together so it works."

"You made a believer out of me. We were adrift and not even aware enough to do anything. You blew it up and look what happened. It is also nice to know your detonation was toward my getting us back together, that is teamwork."