Many thanks to my beta, iloveromance, a continual cheerleader and beautiful beta reader. I do not own any of the 'Mad Men' characters or concepts, what you see below is created for our amusement. Please enjoy and as always, be safe.
Don Draper rolled the sleeves up on his white button down shirt. The offices were still hotter than ever, and Don was feeling particularly warm given the very pressing business matters involved with the merger. It started off as a rumor; one of Don's business associates, Conrad Hilton, was quick to inform him that he was going to be getting his advertising needs met elsewhere upon hearing that Sterling Cooper, a New York advertising firm, was being bought up by McCann Erickson. After following up on the rumor and discovering it to be fact, a joint decision was made by Don and lead partners Bertram Cooper and Roger Sterling to start over with the Sterling Cooper name.
It amazed Don that everything took place in the span of one week. From being comfortable with Hilton business and flying high, to now spreading his wings with a new company, and scrambling to grab people and accounts to go with it. PP&L representative Lane Pryce set everything into motion by firing Cooper, Draper, and Sterling, thus torpedoing any successful buyout with McCann Erickson. This gave the men the entire weekend to grab what they needed and start from scratch.
His mind was still reeling from earlier that morning. A private conversation with one of his copywriters turned sour when she rejected his offer to leave for the new start up. He just couldn't see why Peggy Olson – his former secretary, who could still be doing secretarial work had he not plucked her from the pool upon recognizing her talent for slogans – wouldn't want to go with him on his venture. It was an opportunity to make a fresh start, not have to answer to a parent company or foreign shareholders. Still she said no.
The other missing employee was Pete Campbell, one of the advertising executives. Don wanted to believe that they could move on without him, but Roger was adamant that Campbell and his connections would be adventitious to the new firm.
A knock at the door stole Don away from his thoughts.
"We're making a house call today," Roger announced, not waiting to be invited in. "Campbell says he's sick, so we're going to stop by and see him in person."
Don sized up his employer. There wasn't going to be time to argue whether or not Pete Campbell was worth fighting for. This weekend was going to be their opportunity to take whatever and whoever they needed for the foreseeable future. By Monday, the news would be broken out that the men were fired and there wouldn't be time left to salvage anything at the building.
"I know you two don't see eye to eye, but the kid's got contracts worth millions and a name that will let us in business rooms."
Don was willing to resign himself to his fate. "When do we leave?"
"Get your coat now."
Don clicked his tongue and grabbed his coat. It wasn't too long ago that the men were feuding over events that had taken place nearly a year ago. It was at Bert Cooper's insistence that Don be the one to initiate the apology and offer a clean slate – one of the many stipulations before the new company was formed. At least he was getting out of his office.
Betty aimlessly perused the family calendar, attached to the kitchen wall. It held all of Sally's dance classes and recitals, Bobby's play dates, and social functions for the Draper family. She considered herself lucky that she didn't have to go down to Philadelphia and see her brother William, his wife Judy, and their three rambunctious daughters. Now that their father Gene had passed away, there was an unspoken agreement between the Hofstadt siblings that family holidays were more optional than anything else. William had a life with his family, and Betty…well Betty at least knew that she had her children.
A gentle rasp on the window brought a smile to Betty's mouth. "Francine!" Betty called out, opening the kitchen door. "Come in. please." Francine Hanson was Betty's closest neighbor on the block. She was one of the few people in the Draper social circle that knew about Don's frequent infidelities, though she was careful not to mention them in front of Betty. The two were able to commiserate over everything from husbands and children to recipes gone wrong.
"Enjoying your quiet afternoons before they get swallowed up by winter break?" Francine asked, shaking the snow off of her coat.
"Something like that," Betty conceded, not ready to tell Francine about her new arrangement with Don.
Francine stopped at the counter to inhale a simple bouquet of lilacs. "Well these are just lovely, so unexpected in the winter months."
Betty nodded at Don's morning surprise. "Nice for a few days at least."
Francine thumbed one of the branches. "Carlton stopped sending me flowers over a year ago. When I asked him why he stopped, he said 'we're married and that he already had me – he didn't have to try so hard.'"
Betty shook her head. "Maybe he just needs a little reminding of how good he has it at home."
"Maybe. We're planning a little mini vacation – just the two of us – in the New Year. A way to just set us off on the right foot again. Like you two after Rome."
"Rome; it seems like ages ago." Betty closed her eyes, remembering a summer weekend, more like a day and a half, in Italy with Don on business. It was right after Gene was born, and while everything seemed perfect abroad, when they got back home, everything was just as it was before. "You know Francine, getting away doesn't necessarily solve everything." It was the closest she had come to telling her friend about her marriage.
"But it helps," Francine insisted. "That and flowers."
Betty paused to respond, interrupted by the phone. "Draper residence…I see…well thank you for letting me know." Hanging up, she turned back to her friend. "Don's working late again tonight. You know what else helps, showing up for each other."
Don Draper stood outside of an elaborate apartment complex on Park and 83rd. Pressing his hand to his forehead, he signaled for a cab.
"Heading home?" Roger called after him.
Don shook his head. "Office. Give my regards to Jane." He knew it was a step in the right direction, acknowledging Roger's wife, and Don's former secretary.
"She's still weepy over Kennedy, maybe I'll head back with you. We can start packing."
"Sounds fine by me." Roger slid in next to Don. The two men spent nearly an hour with Pete at his apartment, catching him up to speed on what was happening.
Sick my behind, Don thought to himself, still having reservations over bringing the uppity Pete Campbell to the new company. Don wisely let Roger do the initial talking, getting Pete up to speed on what was happening. After hearing the story, Pete turned his attention to Don demanding to know exactly why he was valuable and why he had been passed over for a promotion earlier that month. Grimacing, Don humbled himself and told Pete the honest truth, a truth that was loathe to admit for fear that it would go to the younger man's head, that he would lose control over someone who could very well be gunning for his job within the next five years. Don told Pete that he related well to the clients, he was spoken about favorably and had a unique perspective. The Campbell name was an asset that would give a new company a leg up, even with a solid reputation from a parent company. When Don saw that Pete wasn't satisfied, he promised him a partnership in the company if he could deliver his current clients to the new venture by Sunday. That was all Pete Campbell needed to hear. His young wife Trudy, who had been listening from the kitchen, came out just in time to celebrate the news.
Why am I valuable? The question rang through Don's mind. It was a simple question on the outside, but loaded on the inside. The question intermingled with another loaded question that Betty had asked Don more than a year ago: do you love me? On the outside, the answer was an easy 'yes' no question about it, but upon reflection, it was the 'why' the justification of it that tripped him up. Don was enamored with her beauty the moment he set eyes on her, willing to jeopardize his professional role at the furriers just to see her again. Upon further reflection and getting to know her better, Don saw a bright woman, one who could laugh easily, and make him feel important just by looking at him, listening to his every word. She assigned value to him, and he assigned value to her. As any partnership, it seemed mutually beneficial.
"You don't know what you have till it's gone," Don said, not realizing that he was speaking out loud.
"You waxing poetic about Kennedy too?" Roger laughed.
"Sure," Don admitted, knowing that it would be easier to lie than tell the truth.
Betty savored a cigarette with her after dinner wine, lounging in the living room with one of her gardening magazines. She banished the children to bed early after dinner, craving solace with her thoughts. How easy it would be, to tell Francine, tell the world that I was getting a divorce. Her mother Ruth had raised her to respect appearances and keep a 'mask' close by in order to disguise her true intentions. Don had often seen her without a mask, though she had very rarely seen glimpses of him. There were the stray moments here and there, where she could get him to talk after he had too much to drink; the occasions where he would have a memory lapse of sort and let something slip. Then there was the occasion own sloppiness, leaving the key to his precious drawer in his bathrobe for anyone to find – his wife or the children. Betty knew what drawer the key would unlock, but she didn't know the depth of his secrets, the layer of his mask until she saw the photographs and documentation – evidence of a past life that she knew nothing about, rendering her marriage a lie in her lies. She had been deceived and was justly due her divorce, having entered a contract with someone foreign and unknown to her.
"You sent the kids to bed?" The achingly familiar voice of her husband caused Betty to put down her magazine.
"I did. I didn't know what time you were coming home. I saved you dinner," she finished quickly. "It's resting in the oven, should still be warm."
Don nodded a thank you and headed to the Draper kitchen. "Roast beef?" he called out dubiously. "One of my favorites."
"I figured after Lutucee last night, you deserved a nice meal in return." Betty crossed into the kitchen, eying Don pouring himself a beer. "I'm sure work will be winding down for you, what with the holidays coming up and everything."
"Hmm," Don muttered, lighting a cigarette.
Betty clicked her tongue. "You didn't hear a word that I said, did you?"
Don lifted his hands up, signaling that he was caught. "Was it important?"
"No," Betty responded tightly. "I suppose it wasn't." She turned to go to bed.
"Thank you for dinner," Don called after her. "I was so preoccupied with work that I didn't eat." This was true fact on his part, having spent the better part of the last few hours consolidating items to make the weekend move more feasible.
"There's cherry pie in the fridge for dessert." She waited for him to say something else – to ask her to stay with him in the room, or tell her what was on his mind. But then he's never really told me what's on his mind. Anything I've ever found I had to deduce for myself or force it out of him. "I suppose this is goodnight. If you want to see the children, they may still be awake."
Don nodded in acknowledgement, turning back to the fridge. It was a pleasant treat to have dinner waiting for him. He had been too preoccupied to even consider food until it was right in front of him. How many more home cooked meals am I entitled to, he wondered, sinking into the chair at the head of the table. He recalled the number of meals that he unceremoniously ducked out of with late night meetings and assignations, all missed opportunities now. What sort of opportunities lie in 1964. At this point, he was terrified to find out.