Chapter Nine

The next few days, her final days at work, were hectic, but as her return date was looming closer, she was distracted. Her mind worked overtime trying to come up with a magical solution to their predicament. Every night after Libby fell asleep she lay awake for hours, thinking, weighing her options, the pros and cons, but there seemed to be a dead end to every path, and the future always seemed bleak. And then the previous night, she realized there was no getting away from it. She knew what she would have to do.

She had been staring at the computer screen for good fifteen minutes. Her decision had kept her up until the small hours the night before, and now her head was throbbing and her heart heavy, but her mind was resolute. She didn't think she would regret it... much. Deep down she wished for another possibility, but there seemed to be none, and so she was willing to take one for the team. She would find her way; she always had. Losing Mark on the other hand was not an option, and so she was willing to do what it took. This time, she would make things right.

The phone on her desk rang, putting an abrupt end to her conflicted musings. She picked it up absentmindedly. "Maureen Johnson."

"Maureen, Stan, can you pop into my office for a few minutes?"

She and Stan had pretty much the same job, only his came with much more responsibility as he had several different theaters to oversee. He was legendary in their field, renowned even amongst her San Francisco peers. And meeting him in person was a true gift. She learned so much. She was in awe at his work ethic; it was inspiring. And as he was a busy man, he had always conducted himself in this straight to the point manner, which to the external observer might seem cold and aloof, even snobbish, but she knew better than take offense by his laconic approach.

"Umm, sure, now?"

"Right away please."

"I'm on my way."

That was odd. They adjourned the final meeting of the convention nearly an hour ago, and she wasn't even supposed to be there. She stayed behind to arrange her makeshift office so as not to leave anything behind. She thought they had said everything there was to say. What would Stan want with her that he couldn't say earlier, and why the urgency?

Well, whatever this was about, she'd better not keep him waiting. She looked at the neat pile of paperwork on the desk, making a mental note to return to it later. She glanced at the computer screen with certain apprehension. She sighed, then clicked a button, and the resignation letter she had just composed disappeared inside the Drafts folder.

The atmosphere in the hallways was joyous, festive almost, like a campus at the end of the semester. Several people acknowledged her as she passed by; she waved back. It had been grueling two and a half weeks, but the intensity of it really did bring them all together. She would be sorry to leave them behind. And not just them. She pushed the grim thought out of her mind as soon as it settled there, knocking on Stan's door. Don't do this now, she scolded herself.

"Come in!" his voice boomed from inside the office. He raised his head from the paperwork on his desk and flashed a tight smile at her as she walked in. That in itself was unheard of. Rumor had it he barely had time to smile as well. "Maureen, great, thanks for coming so quickly, I feared I'd miss you."

"I needed to get a few things done before I leave." Like penning my resignation letter, she thought bitterly.

"Are you the last one to leave work in San Francisco as well?"

"Pretty much, yeah," she admitted, smiling meekly. "If my daughter grows to resent me about it in her teens, I'll have no one but myself to blame."

He seemed surprised to hear it. "How old is she?"

"Almost five."

"My twin boys are twelve, and they turned out just fine, so I wouldn't worry too much about it." His smile was slightly wider now; it was almost unnerving. "Please," he nodded towards the seat across from his. His gaze was intense, but not in a creepy way that signaled she should be on her guard. She sat down.

"You said it was urgent, is something wrong?"

"Quite the contrary. Something feels extremely right."

"I'm not following."

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you. I probably shouldn't have waited until your very last day with us, but I wanted to be sure I have found the right person."

"Still not following."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I don't make much sense, do I? How about I'll go ahead and just ask it – how would you like to relocate and keep working here?"

Her hands were still shaking as she left the building an hour or so later, still in a daze. This was unreal. It couldn't be happening to her. If she wasn't so elated by the meaning of the promotion Stan had just offered to her, she would have been terrified by its consequences. As far as her career went, it couldn't get any better than this. Everything else – Mark, staying in Manhattan – was just a bonus. Stan gave her until the next day to consider, but she didn't need to, not really. This was it, the other possibility she'd been yearning for.

But first things first. She had to talk to Libby. As soon as her daughter crossed her mind, she realized her mistake the first time around. It now dawned on her that composing her resignation letter without even consulting with Libby was impulsive at best. That kind of behavior was something her old self was famous for. Now her priorities were changed, and Libby was – as she should be – an integral part of her decision. She would do whatever Libby wanted, she decided.

But as she stormed into the suite, she could tell right away something was off. She halted by the door. Usually by this point Libby would launch herself at her, and she expected it today of all days, her last day at work. But her daughter was nowhere to be seen. Then Robin came to the living area to greet her, her expression grave.

"What's wrong?" she asked before Robin even had a chance to say anything.

"It's Libby." She tried not to panic, but weren't those the two words any parent had dreaded? "She had been acting weird all morning," said Robin. "I didn't want to bother you on your last day at work, so I didn't call."

Her euphoria was beginning to wane. "What do you mean? Weird how?"

Robin led her down the hallway to the second bedroom, where the door was partly open. Libby was sitting on the floor with her back to the door, her teddybear in her lap, absentmindedly leafing through some books.

"Hi, Munchkin," she said. Libby turned to acknowledge her for a moment, then brought her attention back to the book in front of her.

"She's been doing this all morning. She didn't want to go anywhere. She dismissed all of my suggestions, including lunch at Serendipity 3 which you'll agree is unusual. Whenever I tried to ask her what's wrong she just shook her head and ignored me."

She could hear the despair in Robin's voice. Was she afraid to be held responsible for Libby's strange behavior? "I think I should take it from here," she said softly, hoping to sooth the younger woman's worries.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"I might need to pop out for a while later too," she replied, deliberating. It seemed unfair to toy with Robin's time like that.

"How about this, then? I'll pop out to the bookshop, then be back? It will give you some time alone with her."

"That's perfect. I really appreciate it, Robin." Really, the girl was a true gem.

"No problem. See you in a bit."

She waited for the soft click of the front door as it closed behind Robin, then braced herself and entered the bedroom. She sat on the floor next to Libby, never an easy task in her work clothes. Libby didn't even glance at her.

"What's up, Munchkin?" she asked as lightly as she could, although her panic was rising again, increasing by the second. "I was looking forward to hang out with you, but Robin says you're not in the mood. Too bad, because I thought we could go to Alice's Tea Cup and..."

But her voice was soon interrupted by a soft sniffle. Before she knew it, Libby's eyes filled with tears. Her shoulders began to shake as if she could no longer hold back her sobs.

"Baby, what is it? What's wrong?" she asked, holding her daughter close before she managed to wriggle away in protest. She rubbed her back, whispering soothing words in her ear. She felt at a loss. This had never happened before, and she had no idea how to handle it. Hearing Libby cry broke her heart. Not knowing how to help her was even worse; it made her feel so helpless.

"I don't want to go home," Libby managed eventually, between sniffs and hiccups.

Relief surged through her. This was what it was about? This she could handle. At least, she hoped so. Feeling slightly more confident now, she pulled back ever so slightly and tucked Libby's hair behind her ears. She looked a mess. "It's okay, baby," she murmured soothingly. "Stop crying for a second and listen to me, okay?"

Libby's cry gradually ceased, until nothing was left of it but a few whimpers. She looked at her mother, her eyes still glistening with the remainders of tears.

"Good. Now let's go wash your face and then we'll have a talk, okay? There's something I want to tell you."

Libby didn't protest as she scooped her in her arms and carried her to the bathroom. She sat her on the vanity and gently cleaned her up. Libby was docile, and seemed shaken by her own outburst. Once her face was clean, they went to the living area and sat side by side on the sofa. She deliberated, unsure where to start. She had to handle this with care. She needed to do this right.

"Libby, I want to ask you something, baby. But you must think about it really carefully before you give me your answer, okay, sweetheart?"

Libby nodded seriously, as though aware of her responsibility. "Okay, Mommy."

She took a deep breath. Here goes. "If we had the possibility to live in New York instead of going back to San Francisco, do you think you would want that? Because you know that once we move here, we can't change our minds and move back." She spoke slowly, softly, her eyes never leaving her daughter's. "It means that we'll have to give up things we love back home, like that candy store near our building, and the pet store down the street. You know, the one with the cute white bunnies? And you won't be able to play with Grace and Lydia in the park like you do now."

Libby considered this for a moment. "But if we go back, we'll never see Mark again," she said in a small, quivering voice. Her bottom lip began to tremble as her eyes filled with fresh tears.

"He really means so much to you?" Libby nodded. She held her daughter's gaze. "He means a lot to me too, baby."

"Is he your boyfriend, Mommy?"

In other circumstances she would burst into laughter and ask her daughter in mock-outrage where she had learned that, but the conversation was too delicate. "No. But I want him to be." Libby just looked at her, as if taking this in. "You know, at work today, someone offered me a job here. If I took it, we wouldn't have to leave Mark."

Understanding flickered in Libby's eyes. "So we'll stay with him here? And see him every day?"

"Yeah," she smiled at her.

"And I'll have new friends?"

"Loads. I promise."

"And can we live near the candy store Mark took us to? And find a pet store too?" Libby looked at her hopefully. Excitement was beginning to sip into her tone, she noticed with relief.

"I don't know about living near the candy store, baby," she replied, smiling. "But I'm sure there are plenty of pet stores here."

"I'll miss the bunnies," said Libby sorrowfully, but then her face brightened with new hope. "Maybe we could get a bunny of our own?"

She laughed softly. "Maybe. We'll see." She reached for her daughter's hair again; their gazes locked. "So what our decision is going to be, Libby? We're staying?"

She was all but holding her breath until a huge smile replaced the sad expression on Libby's face. She nodded. "We're staying."

She hurried up Broadway, as fast as her high heeled boots allowed. When Robin returned, she left Libby in her care for a while. Libby was perfectly fine now, chatting endlessly about staying in New York, huge candy stores and cute little white bunnies. Robin was a bit confused by her complete change of attitude, and so she gave her a recap. Inevitably, Robin claimed she had known about Mark and her all along, and was really happy to hear about her job offer.

There was one thing she still had to do. She crossed the street and took her cell phone out of her bag. She could see him through the glass doors of the gallery as she dialed his number. He was talking to a group of people, gesticulating enthusiastically. Then he took his cell out of his pocket and smiled after glancing at the screen. She felt her lips curl in a smile as well as she watched him click a button, accepting her call.

"Hey," he said, moving away from the group.

"Hi." There were quite a few people around, and so she wasn't worried about being discovered as she walked in. He was standing too far away from the door to notice her. "What are you doing?" she asked, keeping a safe distance.

"Working. Where are you? It's noisy."

"Do you think you could sneak out for a bit?" she asked, deliberately ignoring his question.

"Maybe…" She couldn't see his face, but she was sure he was smiling. "What's on your mind, Miss Johnson?"

"Late lunch. Or early dinner. I'm starving," she replied, making her way towards him through the crowd.

"Sure. How soon can you be here?"

"Hmm… give me about five seconds."

"Wow. You're having an affair with Superman or something?"

She hung up and tapped his shoulder. As he turned and stared at her jaw dropped, she smiled sweetly and replied. "Something like that."

It was a moment before a warm smile replaced his puzzled expression. He reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together and pulling her an inch closer. Then he caught sight of her clothes, and his brows furrowed in confusion. "Have you come from work? I thought you had your last meeting this morning."

"That's right. But I needed to pop in there this afternoon for some… unfinished business," she said mysteriously. Her secret was weighing on her, but still she held back. Not just yet. "So are you ready to go?"

"Cohen, you're ditching me again to flirt with other women?" A woman's voice boomed from somewhere behind her. "Just you wait until your mother hears about this!"

She recognized the woman who approached them right away. It was the same woman she spoke to on that very first day she stepped into the gallery, the one who quite literally brought her to Mark. There was a spark of recognition in the woman's eyes as well, as her mock-frown was quickly replaced with a sly, victorious smile.

Mark rolled his eyes, well-familiar with her quirks apparently. "Tammy, this is Maureen Johnson. Mo, this charming woman is my friend Tammy Horowitz."

"Your best friend, Cohen, don't make me look so bad," grumbled Tammy.

"After this impressive entrance, I think I'll have to reconsider your position as my best friend."

"Ha ha," Tammy stuck her tongue at him.

She laughed at their exchange, then shook Tammy's outstretched hand. "It's nice to meet you, Tammy."

Tammy stared at her intently. Weird; for a moment, her expression resembled Collins' perfectly. "Same here," she said eventually, and let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Phew! At least I know he wasn't making it up. You do exist. Is it true you dumped him for another woman?"

"Tammy, just shut up," murmured Mark, looking mortified; his cheeks turned pink.

"No way, I waited way too long for this," she retorted, unabashed.

"Well, do you mind being nice for a change and lock up alone here today?"

Tammy turned to her, looking outraged. "See? And he dares to claim he never ditches me!" Then, to Mark, "What is being nice for a change supposed to mean? I'm always nice! If it wasn't for me, this would never have happened!" she said, gesturing at the two of them.

"That's... sort of true," she admitted.

"You better believe it!" rejoiced Tammy. "Now get out of here, you two. It's fine, I'll lock up. Mark, I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll just get my coat," he told her, looking desperate to get rid of Tammy. He probably feared she would embarrass him again.

"Don't worry, Cohen, I'll keep her company."

"This is exactly what I'm afraid of, Horowitz."

He disappeared before Tammy had a chance to come up with a retort. They stood there in silence for a moment. Then Tammy turned to face her. There was no humor in her eyes this time. "So you came back."

"I did."

Tammy hesitated for a moment, but then looked at her seriously and said, "He's so happy. Please don't hurt him again."

She didn't know how much Tammy had known, but judging from her statement, she guessed that quite a lot. She shook her head. "I won't hurt him. I promise."

Mark was already making his way back towards them, wrapping a scarf around his neck.

"Well, you kids have fun," said Tammy as she shooed them out of the gallery. "Maureen, it was nice meeting you."

"You too," she smiled.

"It's your turn to open tomorrow, Cohen, don't forget."

"Yes, mother," said Mark, rolling his eyes a bit. Tammy blew him a kiss and returned, cackling, into the gallery.

As soon as they were alone, he took her hands in his and kissed them. His eyes glimmered as they met hers. "So where are we going?"

She smiled and inched closer. "How about your place?" she murmured seductively in his ear.

His sharp intake of breath indicated he had been caught off-guard. Blush slowly crept its way up his face. "I thought you said you were starving."

She flashed him a devilish grin and pulled him towards her, kissing him hard. Then she slowly pulled away, keeping her eyes on his, letting them do the talking.

"Oh, I see…" he murmured, holding her by the waist, and leaned in to capture her lips with his once more.

They never made it to dinner that afternoon.