Principal Lindstrom surprises Laura by bringing in a comfortable recliner from her home and placing it in her office. In addition, she directs the school IT group to transfer everything from Laura's desktop to a laptop so that she can do her work from the recliner with her feet up. The only problem is her baby bump has grown so large in the past few weeks that there really is no way she can recline very far and balance a laptop on her bump, so she works for 30 minutes at her desk, then 30 minutes in the recliner using a side table to rest the laptop on. It seems to work because over the course of a week, her blood pressure returns to normal range.
The educational conference is fast approaching and since her blood pressure is trending downward, Laura makes the decision to give her talk, which will require her to be on her feet for 30 minutes, then she can sit for 10 minutes of questions. Principal Lindstrom asks to be prepped as a backup in case Baby Adama decides to arrive early or Laura doesn't feel up to it the day of the conference. Between the two of them, they will have it covered.
A few days before the conference, Bill has mandatory meetings in the afternoon, so he's unable to pick her up at lunchtime and take her home for her required nap. Jean volunteers to fill in when Laura and Bill are discussing this over dinner with her and Eugene one night. The idea of spending some time with her best friend thrills her, even if she's going to be asleep for half of it.
When she awakens from her nap and pads her way to the sectional, she's surprised to see her best friend sitting quietly reading a book of poetry.
"I thought you'd be working," she comments. Jean has changed a lot since she graduated from law school. Less intense, with a softened demeanor, and she's definitely more casual today, wearing comfortable leggings with an oversized off-the-shoulder sweater and her hair pulled up into a ponytail. Laura wonders why the latter details escaped her earlier. "Why aren't you wearing a power-suit? And how exactly did you swing the afternoon off from work?" Since she started working at the firm, it's the norm for Jean to put in 60 plus hour weeks, oftentimes working the weekends, too.
"I'm between jobs right now," she replies, pulling the band from her hair and letting it spill over her shoulders.
"Oh, my Gods, did you get fired? Why didn't you tell me?"
"No, actually, I quit. And I already have another job lined up, but I have a few weeks before I need to be there."
"So this is a good thing?" Laura asks, noticing her best friend is so laid back it's almost eerie. Since Jean set her sights on becoming a lawyer, which was right before their senior year in high school, she has been laser-focused, ambitious, and doubled-down on her goal. It didn't let up after law school graduation either, but that was understandable considering she wanted to make partner in the firm and to do that, you cannot slough off.
"It's a very good thing," she replies casually, twisting a strand of hair around her index finger as a hint of a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. This is the most relaxed Laura can remember seeing her in the past several years as she watches her close the book of poetry and pull her legs up into a crisscross in front of her.
"Is this…because of Eugene?" Laura asks, hesitating only because she knows Jean might chastise her for the mere mention of a man being the cause of a change in her behavior.
"No, I would have made this decision eventually. But with him in my life, things have come into focus faster for me." She goes on to explain how her priorities began to change as she watched her friends take on their careers, some getting married and starting families. A coworker who has been at the firm for six years told her he has spent barely any time with his wife and children because he's so focused on making partner. "There's more to life than working insane hours. And the screwy thing is, it doesn't let up once you make partner. You work that much harder. Sure, the money is great, but what good is it when you don't have time to enjoy it? Why do that? I want my life to be more than just being a partner in a law firm."
"You're in love."
"I am in love. We're in love. And if he were to ask me to marry him, I would accept."
"I'm so happy for you," Laura replies, squeezing her best friend's hand. "Why didn't you say something the other night when we had dinner?"
"Didn't want to worry you about my career change. It's all good."
"Where will you be working?"
"I've taken a job as a contract attorney for the government. The pay is still very good, the hours will allow me to have a life outside of work, and the benefits are killer. And definitely less pressure to get ahead, less backstabbing in the workplace."
"Are you sure? It's the government after all," Laura warns, having heard rumors of politics spilling down into various departments with the current administration in office.
"It can't be worse than being at a private firm. And if it is, I could maybe go into business for myself, or call up that publishing company that your dad worked with. I have lots of options."
The first university banquet Dave attended sans Larissa proved to be a challenge. While he expected he would tire on his own as the evening wore on, what surprised him were the number of women that crowded around him when he didn't have a date. It was enough to make Dean Stockwell chuckle and give him a good-natured ribbing about it in a meeting the following day. His next appearance was at a fundraiser which drew a larger than normal crowd thanks to the Dean's wife spreading the word that Dave was single once again.
He's gone on a few dates with a handful of women since breaking up with Larissa, but none of them sparked that chemistry with him that he finds necessary to pursue a relationship. That doesn't stop him from scoring a few rolls in the hay, which an inexplicable number of women seemed to only be interested in, another surprise at how different dating is at his 49 years of age compared to when he was 19 years old.
This is just another thing he laments to JJ about as he sits at the bar awaiting his takeout order. "And how are things going with you?" he asks, taking another sip of iced tea.
"Oh, things are fine. I called it off with Tim after a month. Like you said, chemistry is important. If it's not clicking by then, it never will. I have a second date with someone else tomorrow night."
"Good luck, maybe he'll be the one?"
"Mmmmm, I doubt it. I'm trying to do two dates before I make a decision. The first one was just okay. Nothing to write home about."
"What does he do for a living?"
"He's an actuary," she sighs, the lack of excitement in her voice a telling sign.
"That sounds…boring," Dave scoffs.
"Hmpf, it is. There's no sexy side to actuarial science. Numbers, probabilities, risks, and insurance. Snooze-worthy. Goes along with his grey suits and black ties. Maybe I should just cancel because I really don't see it getting any more interesting."
"If you do, I know someone I could set you up with tomorrow night. Nice guy."
"You setting me up with one of your friends?"
"Something like that. He broke up with someone a while back and since then, women keep hitting on him at all these social functions he's required to attend. He could use an attractive woman by his side to discourage them, and with your intelligence and sense of humor, you would fit right in with his academic colleagues."
JJ leans across the bar into his personal space. "Are you asking me to be your fake date, Dave?"
"Would you, please? I'll beg if I have to," he replies with desperation in his voice.
Would a fake date with a good friend be better than a real date with a boring man that she likely will never see again after tomorrow night? It's a no-brainer to her, but she decides to exercise caution and see what exactly the expectations are for this fake date. "What is this function about?"
"Society of University Administrators Annual Awards Banquet. I have not been nominated, but I am presenting an award to Dean Stockwell."
"What is the attire for this banquet?"
"I'll be wearing a nice suit and tie, no tux. My date can wear a tasteful dress, but no need for anything too formal."
"Now the most important question, Dave," she says leaning even further into his space. "What do I get out of this?"
"Name it, JJ."
Since starting to see a new therapist, Sandra has discovered it's important to keep busy when thoughts of losing her mother begin to haunt her mind. Cheryl understands the topic of their mother is off-limits for a while, at least until Sandra gets a handle on why she has become overly emotional again. It could just be because the anniversary of her mother's death was a short time ago, and grief can be cyclical. The poignant sketch of her mother certainly didn't help. The relationship she has developed with JJ may have also contributed, a reminder of how much she misses her mother.
There are some surprising similarities between the two of them. The easy banter they both have with her father is one, and the affection JJ feels toward her, and her sisters is another. They are both strong, independent women. JJ seems to have more of an interest in her father's research than she suspects her mother ever did, though, and from what she has learned from Bill, the restaurant owner might be a tad more stubborn, which is hard to believe since Betty Roslin was known to be a stubborn woman among friends and family.
Sandra sighs heavily as she sorts through the family laundry before starting a load in the washer. She grimaces at the sight of her father's slacks, reaching for some stain remover before tossing them in and starting the machine. When she finishes downstairs, she returns to the kitchen where her father has set the takeout containers on the table and is busy getting silverware and beverages.
"Daddy, I shouldn't have to have this conversation with you, but I'm going to," she begins in a derisive tone.
"What'd I do this time?" he asks as he opens a bottle of beer for himself.
"It would help immensely if you would have your dates remove their lipstick before…you know…" her voice trails off.
"Huh?"
"What I'm saying is it's difficult getting lipstick stains off the fly of your pants. So, give them a tissue first, have them remove their lipstick, then you can both have fun, and I don't have to have that image in my mind when I do your laundry."
"Oh," he grins sheepishly. "Thank you for bringing that to my attention."
"You're welcome," she says as she places some napkins on the table.
"How's Jeff?"
Sandra narrows her eyes at her father, wondering how he could segue from the current topic of discussion to Jeff. "We were just talking about your dates giving you blow jobs, and then you decide to bring up Jeff? Are you asking me if we've had oral sex?"
"No, Sandra, I was trying to change the subject," he replies, but now that she's mentioned it, he wonders if there might be something going on between her and his future grad assistant.
"Sheesh, daddy, could you be any more obvious? You'd be thrilled if we got married and had tons of babies, wouldn't you? Well, it's not gonna happen. We're friends and we won't be anything more. I won't let that happen so you can just tuck that little dream away and forget about it."
"Alright," he replies giving her a glance out of the corner of his eye.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing. I just think you protest too much."
"Then I won't say anything about him anymore."
Cheryl rounds the corner into the kitchen making a beeline toward the table, Fletcher following closely behind. "Oh, Jeff," she says in a falsetto tone, followed by kissing noises. "We're just friends," she states with more pronounced smacking of her lips. "Sandra, does Jeff use his tongue when he kisses you?"
"You are so frakking annoying! Daddy, do you see why I wanna move into the dorms this fall? And she keeps putting cans of beans in our shower!"
"Those aren't beans – that's Earth!" Cheryl shouts, looking at her sister like she's stupid.
"Earth does not exist in our shower, Cher!"
"How would you know, San? You're too busy with Jeff's tongue down your throat!"
"Daddy, make her stop!"
"Girls, can we please eat our dinner in peace tonight?" Ever since Sandra threw Cheryl out of her room and ruined a few pages of her scrapbook, the youngest Roslin has been quite persnickety with her sister. It's led to numerous confrontations between them, Cheryl delighting in getting under her skin, which she has become an expert at. If it isn't beans in the shower or teasing about Jeff, it's bouncing a pyramid ball off the common wall between their bedrooms, or slapping Sandra's door while she's trying to study, or the new one where she locks all the doors to their shared bathroom except for the one from her own room.
Cheryl sets her eyes on her sister while she eats, knowing she has the upper hand over her. Occasionally she makes a loud smacking noise with her noodles, watching for Sandra's reaction, who glares in her direction.
"Cher, how's Finn?" Sandra asks.
"I dunno, I broke up with him, San."
"You broke up with him or he broke up with you because you're such a pain in the ass?"
"I broke up with him. We kissed on the lips and I told him he was a terrible kisser and then I broke up with him. Then he cried and I thought it was funny."
Dave drops his fork, hoping none of what Cheryl said is true. "Did you really kiss on the lips?"
"Yes, but we didn't shove our tongues in each other's mouths like SOME people do," she replies, turning her gaze to her sister.
"I prefer that you don't kiss people on the lips from now on. And did he actually cry?" Dave asks, trying not to reveal how bothered he is by this.
"Yeah, it was hilarious. And I don't ever plan on kissing anybody who has chapped lips again. It was gross."
"Cheryl, I don't think it's funny to break someone's heart. And you're too young to kiss anyone on the lips. What if he had broken up with you and then laughed when you became upset?" her father asks, trying to elicit some empathy from her.
"I wouldn't have been upset. Good riddance," she says with a nonchalant wave of her hand.
"Still, you need to consider other people's feelings. Not just Finn's but your sister's, too."
"Yeah, how would you have felt if I laughed at you crying in the hallway after I threw your scrapbook out there? You would have hidden in your room for a month. What you did to Finn was mean. Remember when you called Laurie a bitch for being mean to Jean? Guess who's the bitch now?"
Cheryl stabs her fork violently into her bowl, slowly winding noodles around it as she contemplates her next move. "At least I don't run away on a bus to nowhere when someone asks me about mom. You're just doing it for attention."
"Alright, Cheryl, take your food to your room," Dave orders in his I've-had-enough-of-this tone, setting his fork down and clasping his hands in front of his face. "I won't have you start a war at the dinner table. Sandra, don't say a word."
"C'mon, Fletch, here we go AGAIN." This is the third time in the past seven days Cheryl has been banished from the dinner table to her room because of her insistence on picking on her sister.
After a few minutes pass where they are both silent, Sandra mumbles to her father, "It's not true. I didn't do it for attention."
"I know you didn't, honey. I'll be having another talk with Cheryl about her behavior. And, for what it's worth, I didn't mean to imply there was anything between you and Jeff. I'm glad that the two of you are good friends and if that's all it is, then I'm perfectly happy with that."
His chat with Cheryl goes nowhere. She listens intently, or at least she pretends to listen, agrees with everything he says, promises to do better, but it's too easy. He knows his little girl, and she's behaving the way he wants her to, saying the right things, trying to manipulate him into thinking the problem is solved. He hates that he'll have to enlist Jason's help again and wonders if the therapist thinks he's failing as a parent. While both Laura and Sandra were extremely intelligent as young children, Cheryl is much more manipulative, quickly becoming adept at getting what she wants from people.
He leaves her in her room with explicit orders to go to bed by 9 pm and stay very quiet so that she doesn't annoy her sister. No ball bouncing, no loud giggling, no music, no computer games, just peace and quiet. Knowing Cheryl, she'll find a way to skirt the rules and annoy her sister anyway.
Despite the load of laundry in the washer, he still has plenty of clothes to choose from for the banquet tomorrow night. As he stands staring into his closet trying to decide what to wear, he receives a selfie from Trust Issues.
"Like my dress?" It's a little black cocktail dress with elbow length sleeves and sequins. She has her hair pulled up so he can see the wide neckline and a pair of black high heels in her free hand.
"Nice," he replies.
"Just nice?"
"Very nice."
A few minutes go by as he's perusing his closet, then another selfie arrives on his phone. "Is this one nice, too?" This time she's wearing a tight red dress that stops at mid-thigh. The image captures her from behind so she can show off the open back of the dress, and he can't help but notice her tight rear end.
"Very sexy," he texts, then he pulls his shirt off so he can try several dress shirts on with various ties. He sets pairs of black, navy, and grey slacks to the side that he thinks can be mixed and matched with the various shirts. Sandra will have the final say in his attire for the banquet, but he can at least narrow it down for her.
After he removes his pants so he's standing in only his boxer briefs in the closet, he receives another selfie. "Front view." The dress shows a lot of cleavage, and JJ has messed up her hair so it spills along her shoulders, and applied lipstick in the same bright red shade as the dress, making pouty lips at the camera. He swears she looks 20 years younger than she is, and for a second he considers how difficult it would be to get that red lipstick stain out of his clothing.
"Damnnnnnn," is his reply.
"Is that a good damnnnn or a bad damnnnn?"
A red silk tie catches his eye, so he slips it around his neck, then takes a photo of his naked torso, careful to leave his face out of the picture. "Like my tie?"
JJ hasn't seen a body like this on a man in a long time. The majority of men she dates are close to her age and many have either put on excess weight or are so skinny they have no muscle tone. Finding one with his chiseled physique, plus a handsome face and dimples is like winning the lottery. Surely he's not this perfect of a physical specimen, is he? Can she get him to give her an indication of what lies beneath the frame of the photo?
A few minutes tick by before she sends her next selfie. "Like my thong?"
A very carefully posed picture captures his full attention. The only thing on her body is a black thong in the photo of her backside. Her upper body is turned slightly but her hair obscures her left nipple from his wandering eyes. Blood surges to his stiffening cock, a typical male response to a photo like this. And he knows what she wants in return.
Carefully lowering his phone to the front of his boxers, he snaps a few photos until he finds one suitable enough for his reply.
She gasps, dropping her phone on her bed. It's a dangerous game and she questions why it's so easy for them to play it together. They agreed not to do this with each other, but after this flurry of photos, the intense ache between her legs rivals the watering of her mouth as she carefully views the tantalizing images again. Her thumb hits the call button on her phone.
"JJ," he answers in a low husky tone.
"Honey, we need to talk."