X.
Ted is rendered speechless by the sight of Peggy in a sleeveless polka dot top tucked under the waistband of a short skirt. She looks ready for a romantic day trip. Her smile is coy and her cheeks are tinted pink. The familiar smell of her perfume is a welcome reprieve from the masculine smells of metal, sweat, leather and gasoline that permeate the hangar.
"I'm sorry," Peggy says, interpreting his silence as disinterest. "Forget I was here." She turns on her heels, moving so abruptly that she knocks into a tool cabinet propped against the wall. The clatter of wrenches and screwdrivers hitting the ground draws the attention of the crew and Ted puts his hand up, signaling that he'll take care of it.
Ted stoops to pick up the tools. Peggy sets her purse down and follows a large wing nut as it rolls across the oil-stained floor of the hangar, stepping on it to halt its path. Ted is back on his feet, holding out his hand, and Peggy drops it on his palm. He tells her, "I don't want to forget. You surprised me, that's all."
"It was presumptuous of me. It's just that…"
"What?" He takes a step closer.
Peggy looks at the plane and then out in the distance at the runway she imagines as their escape route. "It's exhausting to pretend like I don't want to be with you. Seeing you for a few minutes at the office isn't enough. Being alone in a dark room and hoping nobody walks in isn't enough. I heard you say what time you were taking the plane up and I don't care what it says about me, Ted. I don't care what I told you in that letter. I want to be with you."
He smiles and lifts his arms, wanting to embrace her. Ted reminds himself of where they are – still on the ground – and that people at the White Plains airport know him as a devoted family man and this petite brunette is not his wife. He settles for squeezing Peggy's shoulder and says, "Departure is in five minutes."
"I'm ready."
x
Nan's sister lives in the house where they grew up, but being back in her childhood home is not offering the kind of comfort it usually does. She feels unsettled and can't sit still while her niece and nephew play the piano, and she snaps uncharacteristically at the boys when they ask if they can go for ice cream after lunch.
Her sister notices Nan's sour disposition. "Why don't we take our coffee to the porch?" Lydia suggests, and she instructs her daughter to keep an eye on all three boys.
Lydia wants to know what has Nan so pensive and in such a grim mood during what is supposed to be a family vacation and family reunion. "Is it California? I thought you were growing to like it," Lydia says.
"It's not that," Nan tells her.
Lydia inquires about the boys, the neighbors, the Chaough's new church, and when she runs out of guesses, she asks, "How is Ted adjusting? Is he working even more?"
Nan sets her coffee on the table and folds her arms. "He is. He makes an effort to be home, and while he's with us he looks happy, but I don't know, Lydia. Sometimes I look at Ted and I think he must be sick, but he says he feels fine. I catch him when he doesn't know I'm nearby and he looks miserable."
"Have you talked to him?"
"I told you, I ask him all the time how he feels."
Lydia rests a hand on her sister's knee. "Have you consulted anyone at church? You said you like the reverend."
"He didn't have any advice to offer that I haven't already thought of myself." Nan stands up from her chair and walks to the edge of the patio. She pushes her toes into the soggy grass that surrounds the concrete. The thought plaguing her – the idea that sours her stomach whenever she simply thinks about it that she can't imagine what vocalizing it will do to her – pushes against the roof of her mouth and the inside of her cheeks and suddenly Nan says, "I'm afraid there's someone else."
The sound of Lydia's chair scraping on the concrete makes Nan cringe. "This is Ted we're talking about," Lydia shouts, coming up behind Nan to press a reassuring hand against her back.
"He's changed a lot over the last year," Nan confides.
"Have you asked him about this, Nan?"
Nan shakes her head. She thinks about a crisp fall day when she brought lunch to Ted and Frank at the CGC offices and Peggy Olson was sitting on her husband's sofa, balancing a glass of amber colored liquid on one leg. Nan was introduced to the new Copy Chief then, and after that it was different having a face to the name Ted mentioned so frequently at home (she hates to admit she heard Peggy Olson and pictured someone frumpy, wearing long skirts and buttoned-up blouses, and was surprised to meet a young woman with vibrant skin who wore cute dresses that hit above the knee of her shapely legs). But Nan told herself that Ted was always excited when there was someone new at the office, someone younger he could mentor and impress, and this time it just happened to be a female. She had no reason to worry because like Lydia said This is Ted we're talking about.
"I don't think he's having an affair," Nan whispers.
"Then what do you mean you think there's someone else?"
Nan knows all the signs other wives talk about – lipstick on the collar, washing clothes that smell like another woman's perfume. She hasn't had to scrub away pink stains from his shirts or caught a whiff of an unfamiliar scent when he crawls into bed late at night, and Peggy Olson is three thousand miles away. But Ted having another woman in his life explains the faraway look in his eyes and how little they've been intimate with each other since before the move – not just making love, but when was the last time he fell asleep with his arm around her or they sat in bed to read shoulder to shoulder?
"I can't explain it," Nan says. "I told myself for a long time it was because of Frank Gleason's death, but Ted and I have been through loss together before. The way he's acting now is different."
Lydia pulls her sister into a hug as they gaze out into the yard where they played as girls. "You need to talk to him, Nan. Your imagination is going to destroy you."
x
Her least favorite part of flying is landing. What Peggy likes the most is takeoff – the increasing speed of the plane down the runway, the change in air pressure that pushes her back against the seat, watching the world below get smaller and smaller. She likes it even better when she's in the cockpit with Ted, watching him man the controls.
It's the first time she's been his passenger and he hasn't explained everything to her, every bump and why he's pulling back on the yoke and what their altitude is. Peggy likes how that feels, what it says about the time she's spent with him and how much they've already shared.
She glances out the side window, looking down at the airport and houses. The higher they ascend, the smaller the buildings become, until she could hold them between her thumb and index finger, and then they aren't visible at all below the clouds. "Where are we going anyway?" Peggy asks, laughing as she shifts to face Ted.
"Portland. I used to fly to Maine all the time and I wanted to see the coast." He reaches inside his jacket for his sunglasses and they slip out of his grip. Peggy bends to retrieve them and slides them into place, tapping the bridge until it settles across his nose. She presses a quick kiss to his cheek before returning to her seat.
"You live by the coast now," she teases, but the lilt in her tone betrays the sad look she and Ted exchange.
"It's not the same," he says. They don't indulge in the gloom of acknowledging their physical distance most days of the year. Ted happily announces, "The weather there is supposed to be clear. I want to take you to my favorite lighthouse."
Peggy smiles. "I've never been inside a lighthouse. I've never been to Maine."
He adjusts the flaps and lifts the plane higher, drawing a quick yelp from Peggy. "Then we better hurry," Ted says, and they both laugh.
x
"They don't have any convertibles left," Ted says, walking across the lot and dangling a set of keys.
Peggy shrugs. "That's okay." She fluffs the back of her hair. "I didn't bring a brush or a scarf."
Ted eyes her purse. It's bigger than what he's used to seeing her carry – the flat, rectangular bag without any kind of strap, or something so small it could only fit a few bills and a tube of lipstick – but not big enough for a sweater or shawl, and accordingly their first stop is at a general store to buy two Coca-Colas, a pack of chewing gum, and a sweater for Peggy.
"It's going to get cold by the water," he tells her when he plucks the navy garment off a hanger and folds it over her shoulder.
Peggy adds a candy bar to their purchases at the register. She asks the cashier for a pair of scissors to cut the tags from the sweater and Ted helps her put it on once they get back to the car.
They drive along the picturesque streets, passing diners and drug stores and auto repair shops. Ted rolls to a stop after they've been in the car for fifteen minutes. "What's this?" Peggy asks, looking out at the small, square building. She doesn't see a sign.
"It doesn't really have a name. I guess most people call it Clark's, because that's the last name of the family who owns it," Ted explains, and he gets out of the car and jogs around the front to open Peggy's door.
They hold hands to cross the small parking lot and Ted opens the door. The inside only has two tables and a counter to place an order. Peggy browses the chalkboard menu and tells the gray-haired woman behind the counter that she'd like a lobster roll, and then she says, "Wait, I'm sorry. Make that crab cakes."
"Make it two of each," Ted chimes in.
The lobster rolls are wrapped in foil and the crab cakes are served in small paper containers with a cup of dipping sauce, and everything is put onto a red plastic tray. Peggy heads for one of the circular tables but Ted redirects her to a door at the back, a door she assumed led to the kitchen but takes them onto a long, wide deck that overlooks the water.
Peggy chooses a picnic table near the railing. She is so enthralled by the view of the water and the jagged rocks and the lush greenery that Ted has finished half his food before Peggy peels the foil open around her lobster roll. "This is amazing," she says, taking her first bite.
"I agree," he says, gazing at her, reaching his hand across the table. His fingers slide up the length of her hand and his thumb draws a line back and forth across her wrist. "You've flown to Richmond, Middleborough, L.A., Philly. Where does this rank?"
Peggy casts another glance at the rocky coast and then back to Ted. The breeze ruffles his hair and the sun casts a tinge of pink on his skin and brightens his eyes. "It might be too early to tell. It will take a lot to make it better than L.A.," she says, her voice dropping to a low, flirtatious tone that makes Ted shift in his seat as they both think about swimming pools and bathing suits and the Biltmore.
x
Lydia takes the children for ice cream and Nan is grateful to be alone in the house. She stands on the staircase looking at the photographs on the wall, faded and discolored by time. The pictures toward the bottom are newer and brighter – the children born in the last fifteen years, Lydia's wedding to James and Nan's to Ted.
She touches the glass that covers the photograph of her and Ted. She can see her reflection in the frame and is overwhelmed by the difference, by the passage of time.
Nan removes the photograph from the wall and carries it with her to the window seat, stretching across the plush cushion. She has always considered herself a forward thinking woman. She abandoned a career for a marriage and a family, but Nan never saw it as a sacrifice. It was a choice.
She always prided herself on being that kind of woman, that kind of wife – someone who was confident in her decisions and didn't let the man in her life dictate everything that happened to them. That's what was so strange about the move to California. She wasn't consulted. It was the first time in her relationship with Ted that he decided something for her. Her opinion mattered very little. Nan didn't understand then why she was so eager to go along with it, but it's starting to make sense to her.
She had been feeling Ted slip away and she hoped a move like that would bring him back to her. That maybe he needed a change of scenery and a new experience before he could get back to himself. Nan understands that a part of her knew the root of his problem – the source of his brevity, his grief, his withdrawal – was something about New York. Now she fears it could be someone in New York.
Nan has always known that Ted did and could develop friendships with other women, maybe even harbor a crush. She was always certain he wasn't the kind of man that would act on it. But she had also been certain he would never trade New York City for palm trees and beaches.
x
He has the day mapped out in his head, and there isn't enough time to do much more than take Peggy to Portland Head Light before they need to return to the airport. Ted doesn't want to feel rushed and worry over their borrowed time together. He decides to be resourceful and make the most of the short hours they have.
Ted stops at a payphone on the way to the lighthouse. He calls the airport to ask them to refuel the plane and expect him right at five o'clock. "Afraid that's not going to work, Mr. Chaough," he is told.
"Why is that?" Ted asks. "Something wrong with the plane?"
"No, no, not that. Weather in New York is only getting worse. Not letting any flights in or out."
Ted discusses the weather conditions and re-filing his flight plan for a mid-morning departure. He ends the call but remains in the booth. He glances at Peggy in the car, sees her peel down the wrapper of her chocolate bar. She takes a bite that ends up being too big for her mouth and her cheeks puff out as she chews. Ted dials Lydia's house and is taken back when Nan is the one to answer.
"Hello," he says. "How's your day going?"
"Oh, fine," Nan tells him. She sounds tired. "Lydia took the kids for ice cream."
"You didn't want any?"
Nan sighs. "Not today. You made it to Portland alright?"
"Yes, but I'm afraid I can't make it back to New York tonight." He repeats what he was told about the weather conditions."
"It has been raining all day," Nan confirms. "Maybe we'll just stay the night here with Lydia and the kids."
Ted asks her to hug the boys for him and he launches into a lengthier apology before realizing she's already hung up on him. He cradles the receiver and tilts his head back to peer up at the pristine blue sky and tufts of pure white clouds. He doesn't know how he can feel so incredible and so awfully guilty at the same time, but he does. Ted supposes that good or bad, the warring emotions are getting easier to live with.
He gets in the car and reaches out to wipe a smear of chocolate from the corner of Peggy's mouth. "You didn't have any plans for tonight, did you?" Ted asks.
She shakes her head, confused and curious.
"What about early in the morning?"
"No," Peggy says warily. "Why? What's going on?"
Ted tells her, "We can't fly back to New York until the morning, assuming the weather clears up enough."
Peggy looks out at the road lined with trees and the beautiful, rocky shore she can't see from the car but knows stretches for miles and miles. "What will we do with the extra time?" she asks.
He turns the key in the engine and his foot is heavy on the gas pedal. Ted peels out of the lot onto the road and says, "I have a few ideas."
x
He calls it a hotel but Peggy thinks it looks more like a house – a gorgeous three-story with stone exterior and a turret. She stays outside, looking toward Portland Head and the water and imagining the view from the top of the lighthouse.
"Peggy," he calls from the door. She turns around and sees him holding a room key and suddenly doesn't care if she never gets another glimpse of the coast.