The Marriage List (13 page)

She gulped and felt her face get hot. Her
eyebrows shot up.

"Grey? Why do you ask?"

"How well do you know him?"

"Well enough, what does that have to do
with…"

"Are you sleeping with him, Carrie?" Nathan
put down his coffee cup and stared hard at her.

Her face got redder when anger combined with
embarrassment.

"That's my private business, Nathan…" she
sputtered.

"Not when his sister is the new ad director
at Country Lane, it isn't."

"What?"

"So are you…on intimate terms with him?"

"I'm in love with him."

"Oh, boy," he said, looking down at his
thumbs, "this is going to be harder than I thought."

"I don't see the problem. What does Grey have
to do with anything?"

"The new president is pushing to have us
fired. Barbara Andrews likes the work we have done. But she told me
at breakfast yesterday you're involved with her brother. It could
be construed as undue influence if she evaluates us and recommends
Country Lane keep us as their agency. If that information leaks out
to her boss, she'll get fired for showing favoritism. She wants to
make a fair decision, one she can support to her boss, but if he
finds out about you and this guy…"

"Grey?"

"Then her judgment is compromised. Who
wouldn't think she'd want to keep her future sister-in-law
employed? It's practically nepotism. She might have to fire us,
simply to appear impartial. Either way, it doesn't look good for
us…," he paused, "as long as you are here."

"And if I stop seeing Grey?"

"That might work…personally, I think it's too
late for that."

"Good, because I wouldn't."

"I didn't think so. You have integrity,
Carrie, one of the things I've always liked about you…"

"Stop buttering me up, Nathan," she said,
suddenly unafraid to be direct, "you want me to quit, right?"

"I'd put you on another piece of business,
though I'm not sure that would be enough except we don't have
another piece of business for you."

"So I'm going to get the shaft here, right?"
She felt tears at the backs of her eyes but would be damned if
she'd let him see her cry. She took a deep breath, blinked a few
times and got her emotions under control.

"Well…there are so many people involved here,
production, traffic, account services, not to mention your own
creative team…say ten people in all who would lose their jobs if
you stay here and continue to see Barbara's brother. What do you
think is the fair thing to do here?"

Tears pricked her eyes. Choose, Grey or her
job?

"I'd make it easier and fire you but that
wouldn't make things better. We would look bad, all of us. And I
don't want it on your record. Your work is excellent and you
haven't done anything wrong. Perhaps if you stopped seeing him, I
could talk to Barbara and your job could be saved. This is not a
great time to be out of work, especially in our business. It's your
call."

She nodded, emotion choking her so her throat
closed up. She worked so hard to make a success here. After her
marriage blew apart, she was destroyed. GWB had become her home
after her divorce, a place she felt she belonged. And she had been
rewarded for her hard work and loyalty with regular raises and a
promotion. The agency took her in, gave her a job and nurtured her,
helped her, taught her and appreciated her work. Now, in the blink
of an eye, it might all be over.

"Barbara wasn't mad at you, hell, she hasn't
even met you, she told me, although she admitted she's heard about
you from her other sister. She was insistent we take action. I
assured her I would speak with you privately and you would make a
decision in the best interest of everyone," he said, standing up to
indicate their meeting was over.

"I'll have my letter of resignation on your
desk by ten o'clock. Do you mind if I leave afterward?"

"Why don't you think it over during the
holiday? There's plenty of time to resign on Monday, when you get
back, if that's what you want. I'd be heartbroken to lose you, but
applaud your selflessness in putting your colleagues first. You can
count on me for a glowing recommendation to your next employer…if
you choose him over us," he said, shaking her hand.

Carrie was numb. She went into her office and
printed out the letter, before the tears started. Then she ripped
it up and threw it in the trash. She closed her door, packed up and
walked toward the hall. On the way out, she passed Dennis.

"Where are you going?" He asked, reaching for
her arm.

She yanked her arm away from him and kept
walking, refusing to respond to his repeated calls to her.

On the street, she looked for a coffee shop
and found a Starbucks two blocks away. She went in and ordered her
usual Latte and sat down. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she hid
her face. All that time wasted and the new campaign, the new
business pitches, the late nights, the stress…all for nothing. What
did she have now? No job, no salary…nothing. Not nothing. She had
Grey.

But did she? How long had she known him? A
few months. What if his family didn't like her? She didn't have any
guarantee of a future with Grey. He wouldn't be the first man to
take a powder on her in her life. Instead of feeling more secure
about Grey, she felt less.
That's not fair. He hasn't done
anything wrong. But I still don't feel like I can rely on him to be
there for me. Marriage? We haven't discussed it since that day we
fought about the list.
Feeling a familiar throbbing at her
temples, she massaged her head with her fingertips then popped two
ibuprofen to head off the approaching headache.

Tomorrow she would meet his family for
Thanksgiving. Stay in their house. In the same room with Grey. Oh,
God! His sister, the ad director for Country Lane would be there.
The woman responsible for putting her in this predicament! No way
was she going there.

Carrie finished her coffee and hit the
street. It was only one o'clock but traffic was piling up. People
had begun their holiday journeys and the City would be a tangle of
sports cars, SUVs, taxis, busses and trucks all vying for space and
honking their horns until they were hoarse. The trip back to her
apartment was arduous as streets were closed due to the Macy's
Thanksgiving Day Parade backing up traffic for block after
block.

Her street and several other side streets
were cordoned off. Some people had figured out it was better to
come watch the balloons being blown up the day before than to be
there on parade day. So they flooded the site like flocks of
migrating Canada geese, honking and elbowing everyone out of the
way. Parents with strollers and toddlers in tow, teens, even
grandparents came down to see the balloons. Then they could stay in
the comfort of their own homes on the holiday and watch football on
TV.

Carrie walked to the bus which inched along,
missing every green light, making her feel trapped in its stuffy
atmosphere with people talking loudly on cell phones or sneezing in
her face. She called her Aunt Delia.

"Hey, Delia, can you squeeze in another place
tomorrow?" She asked trying to steady her voice.

"You're coming? What's wrong?" Delia
asked.

"Nothing. Can't I change my mind and prefer
to be with you?"

"Hah! I'm not fooled. Last time I saw you,
you had stars in your eyes, now you can hardly keep from crying. I
hear it, Carrie, I hear it in your voice."

"I'm on the bus and can't talk."

"You pack up and get your little fanny on the
four o'clock train this afternoon. I'm chilling your favorite,
Moscato and pulling out another wine glass. You come up here and
tell me all about it."

"Who all is coming tomorrow?"

"Tony and his son, Marco. Freddie and her
husband, Harold. Sam Wood and Joanie Johnson."

"Small crowd…hey you're having Sam and Tony
together?"

"Yeah. Sam is last year's flavor and Tony is
this year. Sam won't mind. He's got a new lady but she's out of
town."

Carrie laughed in spite of her predicament.
"I'll be there."

"Okay, Cookie, see you then."

Carrie hung up the phone just as the bus
reached Amsterdam Avenue. She got off the bus and walked a block to
her building. Grey! Oh, God. She's had to call him. After packing
her suitcase and drinking half a glass of wine to steady her
nerves, she picked up her phone.

"Hi, beautiful! Are you still at work?" He
asked.

"I'm home…"

"I can come over for some alone time…if
you're interested."

"Not tonight, there's a problem…" Carrie's
voice cracked.

"What? Something wrong?"

"I can't go with you tomorrow," she said and
held her breath.

"Why?" His voice rose an octave.

"Something happened today at work…and
I'm…I've got to make a decision. About my job…and about you. So I'm
going to Delia's because I need to think."

"Think…at Delia's? A decision? What kind of
decision?" His voice sounded tight.

"I don't want to discuss it on the phone,"
she demurred, hoping he'd leave it at that but certain he
wouldn't.

"Then I'll be right over," he countered.

"You can't get here. The streets are clogged
from one river to the other. The parade, remember?"

"I don't care. I'll walk then."

"Grey, I don't want to talk to you right
now."

"Why not?"

"Ask your sister, Barbara, about it when you
see her tomorrow."

"Barbara? What's she got to do with us?"

"Everything. Train leaves in an hour and it
will take me that long to get to Grand Central. I've gotta go,"
Carrie said, hanging up the phone.

She burst into tears and sank down on the
sofa. The phone started ringing, it was Grey and she let it ring.
Then he hung up. And called back. And hung up. And called back.
He's persistent, I'll give him that.

Carrie whipped out the hard copy of her
mystery book manuscript stuffed the pages into her briefcase with
her computer. She'd begin working on the edits she received from
Paul Marcel at Delia's. An ironic smile crossed her lips.
Looks
like I could get my wish to be a fiction writer after all, an
unemployed fiction writer.

She slung her bag over her shoulder, tucked
her purse into her briefcase and secured that under her arm. She
left the phone ringing and trudged down the stairs then down the
street to the subway, the only method of transportation in the City
that would not have ground to a halt because of the parade.

****

The weather started to deteriorate; the sun
disappeared behind light gray clouds. Carrie opened her computer
and tried to focus on her edits for the hour and a half ride to
Shelton, Connecticut. But all she could do was look out the window,
dream and think about what she wanted. When the train screeched to
a halt, it's wheels screaming, Delia Tucker was standing next to
her White Toyota Rav, waving. Carrie smiled to see her beloved aunt
and felt better immediately.

Delia enveloped the young woman in her arms
Carrie immediately burst into tears. They stood there for a minute
until Carrie could control herself. Delia picked up the bag and
tossed it in the backseat while Carrie climbed in the front.

"Where are you parents?" Delia asked while
she pulled out of the parking lot.

"Traveling. I think it's Thanksgiving in
Turkey this year," she laughed, "That's ironic!"

"Still traveling?"

"A Mediterranean cruise, I think. They never
took vacations when I was a kid. Work, work, work…"

"That's where you get your work ethic."

"I suppose. They're entitled to live the way
they want now. It might be nice if they made more time for
you."

"I'm used to it. It's okay."

Delia changed the subject and they chatted
about the preparations for the next day on the ride home, skirting
the one issue that was gnawing at Carrie until they were ensconced
in Delia's kitchen, each with a glass of cool Moscato wine and some
cheese and crackers in front of them.

"Apple pie or pumpkin…or both?" Carrie asked,
rolling up her sleeves.

"I think I have the ingredients for both,"
Delia said, perching on a high stool.

Carrie pulled out the flour, butter and salt.
Then she took a large bowl, a couple of knives and a rolling
pin.

"This new granite countertop is perfect to
roll dough on."

"Knock yourself out. So while you're rolling
pie dough, tell me what's going on." Delia refilled Carrie's glass
then sat back.

Carrie recounted her conversation with Nathan
Goodhue and her dilemma.

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know for sure…I've worked so hard
and am so close to becoming a creative director…but Grey is so
amazing…"

"Seems to me that Goodhue didn't give you
much choice. Don't you have to resign?"

"Not exactly. If I gave up Grey, then I could
stay. But I don't want to give him up."

"Ah, I see. The old I want my cake and eat it
too dilemma. Hmmm. That's not going to work here, Cookie."

No one had called her "Cookie" in a long
time. Delia was the first to nickname her that and her parents
liked it, so it stuck. As the air got colder outside, Carrie turned
on the oven to preheat. She was enjoying being in the warm kitchen
in Delia's company.

"What do you really want out of life,
Carrie?"

"Why don't you ask me something really big,
Delia?" She laughed.

"Seriously. Do you want to be a creative
director? Do you want to marry Grey…"

"Hold on! He hasn't asked me or
anything."

"Going to his family's house for
Thanksgiving? You don't think that's a prelude to a proposal?"
Delia raised her eyebrows and took a sip of her wine.

Color came to Carrie's cheeks.