The Drapers were never an overly religious family. Betty had been raised in the Presbyterian Church and attended service with her mother, father, and brother on a perfunctory basis until she married Don. She had been relieved to know that her husband had no desire to attend a Sunday service or adhere to any type of religious routine. Early in their marriage, Betty bridged the topic of God with Don. He told her that he couldn't believe in a higher power after seeing his mother suffer all of his life, after everything he saw in Vietnam; there was no God that would allow that much injustice, and if there was, he didn't want anything to do with Him. Betty accepted his answer, though privately she still prayed on a case-by-case basis, when the need arose and she felt lost. She had recently taken to praying after JFK passed away, going so far as to enter the local church on a dim night and sit in the pew with her hands folded. She didn't remember a thing about praying, so she settled for just quietly talking to God about anything and everything. She had yet to hear back.
Don had returned home late from the city without so much as a word to her or the children, and while that was far from unusual behavior for him, it left Betty in the uncomfortable position of sole parent once more. She often found herself parenting alone, being the designated 'bad cop' while Don was able to fly unscathed as 'the good guy' and 'everyone's favorite.' The few times where she felt brave enough to confront him on the issue, ask him to help parent the kids, he abruptly told her that she could handle them however she saw fit, but that he would never hit the kids – not after what he had witnessed by the hands of his father.
Betty carefully sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on the French toast in an effort to dress up breakfast for the family. Hearing feet coming down the stairs, she assumed it was Bobby or Sally and was surprised to see Don, dressed in his work clothes with a briefcase in hand. "Work on a Sunday?"
"I figure you wouldn't mind, we're practically living apart as it is – should be easier for you," Don pointed out, slightly more curt than he intended to be.
"Will you be home for dinner?"
"Depends on how the afternoon goes."
"You don't stop working do you?" Betty asked lightly.
"I try not to."
"The kids miss you; you've been working all weekend."
Don placed his hands on the counter. "That may not be changing anytime soon – but I'll do my best to be here for the kids over winter break."
Be here for the kids she reminded herself, because you've all but pushed him away. "They'd like that." Forcing a plastic smile on her face to end the conversation, Betty returned to the breakfast plates. "Quick bite before you leave? You can take one for the road."
Don finally mustered a small smile. "Why not." His arm grazed Betty as he reached for one of the middle bread slices to place on a napkin. "I'll try to come for dinner," he conceded, heading for the door.
Betty watched him leave, turning the car engine on. Another lonely Sunday.
The offices of Sterling Cooper were often jam packed on Sundays. There would be bustles between landing a large client, last minute sessions and alterations before pitch meetings the following Monday, and many colleagues went to the offices to escape their family members.
This particular Sunday was laden with urgency. This was going to be the one shot they had to get into the offices and get their belongings before the start of business the following day. By tomorrow, word would have spread of the merger and it would be too late to do anything else.
Don Draper was the last to arrive in the office building. He had wanted to take one last walk around the surrounding area, remember the sights, smells, and sounds that would no longer be part of his daily routine.
"I still don't understand what's going on!" Harry Crane insisted, his eyes diverting in every direction to see if anyone else was coming. Harry worked for media relations at the agency; it was his job to keep the clients happy and satisfied with their promotional airings during network daytime and primetime.
Bert Cooper heaved a heavy sigh. He was tired of having the same conversation over and over with different people. "PPL has been sold to McCann. We're starting a new agency and would like you to join us as the new Head of Media."
"We? Who's we, how many more people are involved?"
"Don's here," Pete called out, feeling a renewed sense of energy after spending Saturday scrambling to secure as many clients as possible to join them in their new venture.
"What are we doing standing around here for?" Don asked. "I thought we'd be in and starting by now."
Lane passed a collection of papers to Don. "We were hoping you could decipher this job sheets, where exactly are these materials?"
"Why don't we just take everything?" Harry suggested.
"Then you're with us!" Bert's eyes lit up. "It will save us the trouble of locking you in the storeroom till morning."
Harry let out a nervous laugh. "He's kidding, isn't he?"
Don shook his head at the documents. "Doesn't anyone know where anything is?"
Roger slid over to the phone outside of the lobby. "Let me make a quick call."
"Please, no more conspirators," Lane begged. "Loose lips sink ships."
"I'll be discreet," Roger promised, shoeing Lane away like a bug.
Peggy Olson ran to join the others. "Sorry I'm late," she stammered.
"You're right on time," Don assured her with a pat on the shoulder.
Peggy and Pete shared a nervous smile as Roger returned with news of another source coming by with more direction.
"She's just what we need," he promised. "And until she comes, I'll be in whatever's left of my office having a drink."
Don raised an eyebrow at Pete. "You're here with us, what did you bring?"
Pete cleared his throat. "American Aviation, Secor, jai alai, Samsonite, and Clearasil. I was pretty impressed given the short notice."
Don nodded in agreement.
"What about Ken and Paul….," Peggy trailed off.
"They're going to McCann, along with everyone else," Harry muttered, trying to light a cigarette."
"I suggest we all start packing up our office spaces until we hear something else," Don advised, expecting the others to follow his lead. Accustomed to following orders, the other three did exactly as they were told.
"You are not tracking snow in the house! Wipe your feet!" Betty once again felt outmatched against Sally and Bobby, hyped on snow along with the winter holidays."
"When is Daddy taking us sledding at the park?" Sally asked hastily as she fought with her snow boots.
Betty clicked her tongue, yanking the boots off with her arms.
"Ouch!" Sally protested.
"You want them off don't you?" Betty asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes ma'am," Sally mumbled.
"And thank you for the help," Betty prompted.
Sally muttered a quick thank you, helping Bobby out of his coat.
"Your father is working hard this week; he may have more time closer to Christmas."
"Can you take us sledding at the park?" Bobby asked.
Betty pointed at the wet things piling on the rug. "I'll ask Mr. Hanson to take you sledding if you do as you're told this week."
Sally quickly grabbed the wet clothes and dragged them to the laundry room. "Sledding!"
"Take your brother with you and start by cleaning your rooms," Betty instructed. Suddenly the thought of a grown up date on Tuesday couldn't come soon enough.
Joan Holloway clicked her heels on the familiar floor of Sterling Cooper. Having left the agency a few months earlier, it felt surreal to back on familiar ground.
Lane Pryce's eyes bugged out as he admired the beautiful redhead and former office manager. "What exactly did Mr. Sterling tell you over the telephone?"
Joan flashed her signature smile at her British colleague. "Only that things were moving very quickly."
"She's here," Harry called from one of the offices. Handing her a stack of papers, he quickly asked her if she knew where any of the items on the list were located.
Joan tightened her smile at Harry. "You'll need the job bags on all of these accounts. We'll also need logo files, all of the film we can find and the negatives which aren't actually here," she finished.
"Where are they?" Peggy pipped in.
"Where can we start?" Don prodded.
"The art department," Joan finished with a confident nod. "Start there, take what we can get and move forward."
"It's locked," Harry noted, gesturing to the doorknob.
Don quickly instructed everyone to stand back. Kicking the door in one swift motion, orders were given to go in and take what was needed.
Betty scooped a small portion of pot roast onto her dinner plate. There was a fourth plate at the head of the table, ominously untouched. "Dig in you two, looks like it's just us."
Sally took a long sip of her milk. "If I'm in bed when Daddy comes home, will you send him up to check on me?"
"Me too!" Bobby asked, never wanting to be left out.
They always ask for him, Betty grimaced under a glass of red wine. Then again, if I weren't here, wouldn't it be the other way around? "I will," she promised. "Did you two finish your rooms today like I asked? Just because you're going to be home for the next few weeks doesn't mean that the room gets to turn into a pigsty."
"I put away all of my toys and finished my list for Santa Claus," Sally said proudly.
"I thought we mailed your list to him last week at the mall?"
"I wrote down a few extra things," Sally said bashfully. "Daddy always says to ask for what you want."
"Daddy says a lot of things. Leave the list with me tonight. I'll see if we can make it to the mall this week."
"Does Santa check the mail every day for new letters?" Bobby asked.
"He does. He also checks with mommies and daddies on their children's behavior – so stay extra good!" Betty smirked, planning on using the Easter Bunny to get her through the spring season. Unable to look at the empty plate any longer, Betty moved the contents to the counter, thinking about her own holiday wish list.
Joan clapped her hands for order at the Pierre Hotel in the heart of Manhattan. After a bit of strong-arming and negotiating by senior members, the group now had a temporary office home base to get them through the holidays in one of the upstairs suites.. "I am only saying this once!" Joan said sharply, her managerial voice coming in strong. "There are ground rules for this space that I expect everyone to follow." Joan eyed Roger, letting him know that he wouldn't be the exception as far as she was concerned. "For starters, I have Peggy and Pete sharing the desk. Don, we'll replace one of these couches with a table for you and we're getting two additional phone lines. Media will be in the bedroom with the television. And no one is to come to this office. If you have meetings, please take them elsewhere. I don't want them in the lobby or the bar of this hotel." Joan took in a deep breath. "We all know this is temporary and we're going to make the most of it, right?" Joan wanted for compliance before continuing. "We'll be working here just for the foreseeable future, hopefully somewhere more permanent in the New Year." The group nodded their heads collectively, soliciting a smirk from Joan who was thrilled to be leaving her Bonwit Teller post for office duties.
The outside light illuminated the Draper driveway as Don pulled his car into the garage. It had been a later night than unusual, with no one wanting to stop the momentum, least of all him. By start of business tomorrow, word would have gotten out about the failed merger, and all he had wanted to do was relish a quiet workday and create a plan for the next few months.
Slipping his key into the slot, Don greeted Polly, anxiously wagging her tail in greeting. Polly had been a spur of the moment surprise for his daughter Sally, a last minute birthday present after missing most of her party.
"When you're done greeting Polly, the children were hoping you'd come up to say goodnight."
Don looked up to find Betty nursing a wine glass on the stairs. "I was later than I thought I'd be."
Betty placed her glass on the bannister of the stairs. "Not your first time."
"Or my last," Don smirked, meeting her remark for remark.
"I am surprised that there's so much pressing business, given what's going on with the country." It had been a chaotic few weeks, nearly a month since President John F. Kennedy was shot while riding in a presidential motorcade. Less than three days later, his assailant, Lee Harvey Oswald, met his own fate in a similar manner.
Don cleared his throat, sensing an invitation from Betty to provide more information. He just wasn't ready that night. "I really shouldn't keep Sally and Bobby waiting." Hanging up his coat and hat, he bid his wife goodnight.
Betty stood there watching him go, nary a word shared between them. Isn't he giving you what you wanted, Betty struggled to remind herself. Time away from him and a chance for one more family Christmas. Betty finished her drink, not feeling satisfied with the deal made between them.