It was about 6pm when Liza came home to her apartment in Brooklyn, exhausted. She had driven four trips to the airport for Lyft, put together two Ikea desks for Taskrabbit, and delivered three burritos for Uber Eats. She wasn't happy working in the gig economy, but she didn't have much choice. Liza's friend, Maggie, may pay the rent, but Liza was still expected to buy some groceries and four years at Vassar doesn't come cheap.

After her divorce, it wasn't Liza's intention to survive on odd jobs. She had a college degree and five years in publishing under her belt. But, fifteen years out of the workforce taking care of Caitlin put her out of the running for all entry level jobs. She was working on some leads and volunteering for some small, nonprofit publications. Hopefully, some recent experience would prove useful in future job searches.

Tonight, Liza stopped early because finals just ended and Caitlin was coming into town from Vassar. Liza imagined that they'd drop by a holiday party hosted by Caitlin's roommate's parents, and then come home, pop some popcorn, put on their pajamas, and binge watch five hours of the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice. Liza knew that her ex-, David, was invited to the party as well. But, she didn't expect David to come to Manhattan to a party hosted by people he barely knew. It was much too long of a drive from his New Jersey apartment.

Around 7:30, Liza and Caitlin entered the home of Caitlin's roommate's parents, Bob and Julia. Liza had been nervous about going to a party at a wealthy attorney's apartment on the Upper East Side. She'd met Bob and Julia a couple of times, at a parents' weekend and at the stop for the chartered bus after Thanksgiving, but it was really above-and-beyond for them to invite her, and David, to their home. A divorced New Jersey housewife and her bankrupt ex-husband really didn't seem their crowd.

But, Bob and Julia were as nice as can be. They introduced Liza and Caitlin to their friends and did their best to find some commonality between the two groups. Bob seemed to know a lot about Liza, despite their infrequent meetings. It seems Caitlin and her roommate talked about their parents a lot.

Liza found herself enjoying the party much more than she had anticipated. An hour had gone by before she looked at her watch. She realized that the train to Brooklyn and the walk to the apartment would mean she and Caitlin wouldn't get to see Colin Firth take off his shirt and dive into the pond until at least 1am at this point. She looked around to try to find Caitlin and hint that it was time to go home.

As Liza turned the corner toward Bob and Julia's kitchen, she ran straight into Bob, who was with one of the most striking men Liza had ever seen.

"This is the woman I wanted you to meet," Bob said to the stranger.

The stranger, six foot five, dark, thick hair, probably 45, grimaced. "Mmm," he said, thoughts elsewhere.

"Liza, hi," Bob said. "This is Charles Brooks, he just got here. I know I've introduced you to all of my boring colleagues in the room. But, this is someone you should know. I have a feeling you'll get along well."

Liza was just about to demur and say that actually the evening had been quite delightful, but she didn't quite get out the words.

"Charles is in publishing," Bob continued, "and Liza used to be in publishing, right? And she just published her first fiction piece in the New Yorker. It was in last week's issue."

Charles' dark eyes widened considerably. He reached out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Liza," he said sincerely.

Liza blushed. The New Yorker piece had been something of a lark. And she considered herself incredibly lucky to have it published. All of those hours, driving around strangers, picking up Indian food, and putting together particle board furniture, had helped her mind wander. The story came very quickly, and naturally.

Liza realized she had to say something. She shook Charles' hand. "Nice to meet you, too." His hand was warm and large. He had such a friendly smile. They couldn't exactly talk face-to-face in the kitchen. Charles was at least 10 inches taller than Liza, and tilting her head that far was awkward. Liza noticed that Bob had conveniently disappeared.

"Were you looking for someone when we ran into you? You seemed somewhat distracted," Charles noticed.

"I am getting a little tired," Liza admitted. "Would you like to sit with me at the kitchen island? It looks like there are some barstools and it's in close proximity to the bruschetta. I've been trying to flag down the caterer for a glass of white wine."

Charles nodded. "Great idea. I'm beat as well. It was a long day at the office, and then I came home to find out I'd missed dinner and my girls were already in bed. Another day without either parent. Their nanny is great. But, I do try to spend an hour with them each night. I didn't want to come to this party tonight, but Bob insisted." Charles paused, looked Liza straight in the eye, smiled, and said, "I think I know why."

They made it over to the island and Liza found herself blushing again. "I did wonder why I was invited to this event. I've only met Bob and Julia twice. I'm sure you know that our daughters are college roommates."

Charles looked at her very intensely. "I had no idea you were old enough to have a daughter in college. You must have been, what, sixteen."

"I know I have a youthful face, but I'm 40," Liza admitted. "I had Caitlin when I was 22. And you have two daughters? How old are they?"

"They're 8 and 10," Charles said.

Liza was so curious to ask about their mother, but she held her tongue. As if Charles could read her mind he said, "Their mother, my ex-wife, well, my soon-to-be ex-wife, is in California. She left to find herself and has been gone for about a year. It's me and the nanny, and I do my best."

"I read a book, a fiction book, with that premise a few months ago," Liza responded. "Actually, it was that book that inspired me to work on my fiction piece. I wanted to draw from my life, but make it more humorous. Although I discovered I was unable to get the "happily ever after" in my own story. I did appreciate that the book's author could write a story about a 40-something woman who could be a good person and not focus so much on her children."

Charles' face had turned white and his eyes turned down. He spoke very slowly: "I know that book well, Marriage Vacation. I published it and the author, Pauline, is my ex-wife."

Now, it was Liza's turn to turn white. "I had no idea!" she blurted out, embarrassed.

"How could you?" Charles asked. "As far as I can tell you know nobody here." Charles then added, "besides, I've ready your story, and it's nothing like Marriage Vacation."

"You've read my story?" Liza asked.

"I did. It's coming back to me know. I read all of the New Yorker fiction pieces. I'm always looking for a promising new author for my publishing house. Someone with a new perspective or an interesting story to tell. I had actually sent out a message to one of my editors, Zane, to try to get him to meet with you. He's not really in-tune with the over 40 divorced housewife set, but he does have a good eye. Did he contact you?"

"No, I don't think so," Liza admitted.

"Your story was really thought-provoking, Liza. Is it yours? Were you really rejected from entry level work at four publishing houses because of your age?"

"Five, actually. Although I merged my characterizations of my interviews at the second and third publisher for the purpose of the story. Putting in five rejections seemed like overkill," Liza continued.

"Your descriptions were so vivid. I can almost figure out who you met with at every company, although you did a great job blurring some of the details to avoid libel. I know with Diana Trout at my company, the gigantic necklaces and clipped tone of voice were a dead giveaway."

Liza gasped, then giggled. "I hope I didn't burn any bridges. I just wanted to go back to publishing, so much, I was willing to do anything. Clean the coffee pot, pick up the dry cleaning, go through the unsolicited book pile. I was at Random House for five years, and then nobody wanted me. I was washed up. And, it wasn't like I didn't pick up a book for 15 years. I was in three book clubs. I read constantly while living in New Jersey, and mentally edited every book that didn't work for me. I had hoped that someone would give me a chance. I remember Ms. Trout, Diana, vividly. She was about my age but clearly disliked me for the choices I'd made in raising Caitlin and living in the suburbs. It was obvious that there was no chance she'd agree to mentor me into an entry-level editor position."

"Wow," Charles said slowly.

Liza instinctively touched Charles' arm. "You're not at fault," she told him. "I understand it's the industry. Low pay, long hours. So many undergraduates from Ivy League schools with English literature degrees. You all have your pick. From the surface, why wouldn't you choose a millennial with a lot of energy and her parents' supplemental help? A suburban mom would expect to be promoted quickly, might refuse to work late in the evenings, and could be distracted with problems outside of work such as a college daughter or elderly parents. I don't think any of the companies believed in my dedication. I expected to start at the bottom. I'm a part of the gig economy now; I know how to run errands."

"Liza, just talking to you now, these few minutes, I can see how dedicated you are to publishing. I can't imagine that anyone would miss it. Your writing style is beautiful and your story managed to be both humorous and poignant in a few pages. I can't believe you're here, in Bob's kitchen. I have to admit, though, that I am a little torn," Charles said, a gleam in his eye.

Liza was confused. For a second she thought Charles was going to offer her a job on the spot.

"I want Zane to call you about a book; and I want Diane to call you to apologize and offer you a job as her assistant," Charles said. "But, more overpowering than that, with your passion, intelligence, and quite frankly, your beautiful smile, I want to take you to dinner. Would you be interested in a date?" Charles asked earnestly.

Liza didn't hesitate for a second. "Yes, I'd like that." Liza smiled widely.

"I'll do everything I can to help you get back into the industry, regardless of what happens on our date. I have many contacts, and once they've read your story, they'll be banging on your door. But, I also want to hear about your daughter, and your life in New Jersey, and your book clubs, and you. I want to learn more about you, Liza."

She gave him her number and he gave her his card. Their fingers briefly touched the transfer, and there was a charge that went through Liza's whole body.

Maybe Liza would get her happily ever after after all.