“Okay …I'm coming …” Page smiled ruefully at Brad, and he gently patted her behind as she followed Andy back to the kitchen. As advertised, there was a carpet of potato chip crumbs all over the kitchen, and Lizzie was happily devouring the last of them when they got there. “You're a pig, Lizzie,” Page said tiredly, as she cleaned up the last of the mess, and wished Brad weren't going to Cleveland. She had really wanted to spend some time with him. Their life seemed to belong to everyone but them, and just today she had really longed for some quiet time with her husband. She turned to look at Andrew then, as Lizzie tried to lick the last of the potato chips she was holding. “Want a hot date with your old Mom? Dad has to go to Cleveland tonight. We could go out for pizza.” They could also eat pizza at home, or the steaks she had defrosted for all of them, but suddenly she didn't feel like being at home without Brad. And it might be more fun to just go out with Andy. “What do you say?”
“I'd love to!” He looked delighted as he and Lizzie left the kitchen again, and Page put the salad and the steaks back in the fridge. Then she went back to the bedroom to see her husband. It was six-thirty by then, he had finished packing, and he was almost dressed to leave for the airport. He was traveling in a dark blue double-breasted blazer and beige slacks, the collar of his blue shirt was open, and he looked young and handsome. It made her feel suddenly tired and old to look at him. He was out in the world, making things happen, meeting clients, doing business, spending time with grown-ups, and she was at home, ironing his shirts and chasing children. She tried to put it into words as she washed her face and combed her hair, and he laughed at what she was saying.
“Yeah …sure …you don't do a thing …you just run a house better than anyone in the world …take great care of our kids and everyone else's …and in your 'spare' time you do murals for the school and all your friends, advise my clients on how to redecorate their offices, and our friends on how to redo their homes, and then here and there you do a little painting. Damn shame you never do anything, Page.” He was teasing her, but all that he said was true and she knew it. It just seemed so insignificant sometimes, as though she didn't really do anything. Maybe it was because she just did whatever she did for friends, or as favors. She hadn't been paid for her artwork in years, not since her days right after art school when she worked as an apprentice on Broadway. She had loved that. It seemed light years ago now, painting scenery, designing sets, and on one production off off-Broadway, they had even consulted her about the costumes. And now all she did was dress her children for Halloween, or at least that was what it felt like.
“Believe me,” Brad went on, as he put his suitcase in the hall, and turned to hold her again, “I'd rather do what you do than be spending my Saturday night on a plane to Cleveland.”
“I'm sorry.” Her life was a lot easier than his, and she knew it. Thanks to him. He worked hard to support them, and he did well. Her parents had a little bit of money, but his had had nothing till the day they died. And everything Brad had done, he had done himself, the hard way. He had crawled his way up, worked hard, and become successful. And one day, he would probably run the ad agency where he worked. If not, he'd run another one. He was much in demand, greatly admired, and the agency was anxious to keep him happy. Like tonight, he'd be flying first class, and staying at the Tower City Plaza in Cleveland. They didn't want to take any chances on his getting fed up, or burnt out, or a better offer.
“I'll be back Tuesday night …I'll call you later.” He walked toward the children's rooms, kissed Allyson, who was looking particularly grown up in her mother's pink cashmere sweater and a little bit of makeup. The sweater had a round neck and short sleeves, and she was wearing it with a short white skirt, and her long blond hair loose around her shoulders. Her hair almost reached her waist and cascaded seductively around her face and seemed to float around her like a halo, “Wow! Who's the lucky guy?” It was impossible not to notice her, or the way she looked. She was a real beauty.
“Chloe's father.” She grinned.
“I hope he's not into young girls, or I may not let you go out with her anymore. You look hot, Princess!”
“Oh Daddy!” She rolled her eyes in embarrassment, but she liked it when he thought she looked pretty, and he was always lavish with his compliments. For her, her mother, and even Andy. “He's really old!”
“Oh, great! Thanks a lot! I think Trygve Thorensen is two years younger than I am.” Brad was forty-four, although he didn't look it.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah …unfortunately, I do …anyway, kiddo, be a good girl for your Mom this week. I'll see you Tuesday night.”
“Bye, Dad. Have fun.”
“Oh yeah. Big time. In Cleveland. Besides, what would I do to have a good time without all of you?”
“You leaving now, Dad?” Andy appeared under his arm, and stood very close to him. He loved being near his father.
“Yup. I'm leaving you in command. Take care of your mother, please. You can report to me on Tuesday night, and tell me if the ladies followed your orders.” Andy grinned toothlessly in response. He loved it when his father put him in charge, it made him feel so important.
“I'm taking Mom out to dinner tonight,” he announced seriously, “for pizza.”
“Make sure she doesn't eat too much … it might make her sick …” Brad said conspiratorially to his young aide, “you know, like Lizzie!”
“Yuk!” Andy made a face, and they all laughed. Andy followed his parents to the front door. Brad took his car out of the garage, and then got out to toss his suitcase in the trunk, and then hug Page and Andy.