“Wow, India! You look terrific!” he said, taking a sip of his Bloody Mary. “You look like you spent all day getting ready.”

“Not quite. Just the last hour of it. How was your day?”

“Not bad. The new client meeting went pretty well. I'm almost sure we got the account. It's going to be a very busy summer.” It was the third new account he was in charge of, and he had commented to his secretary that afternoon that he'd be lucky if he got to the Cape by August, but he didn't say anything about it to India as she walked toward him.

“I'm glad we're going out tonight,” she said, looking at him with the same wistful look she'd had in the market when she ran into Gail, but unlike Gail, Doug didn't see it. “I think we need a break, or some fun, or something.”

“That's why I suggested dinner.” He smiled, and took his Bloody Mary into the bathroom with him to shower and change for dinner. He was back half an hour later, wearing gray slacks and a blazer, and a navy tie she had given him for Christmas. He looked very handsome, and they made a striking couple as they stopped on their way out, to say good-night to the children. And ten minutes later, they were at the restaurant, and on their way to a corner table.

It was a pretty little restaurant, and they did a lot of business on the weekends. The food was good, and the atmosphere was cozy and romantic. It was just what they needed to repair the rift of the night before, and India smiled at him as the waiter poured a bottle of French wine, and Doug carefully sipped it and approved it.

“So what did you do today?” Doug asked as he set down his glass. He knew before she said anything that her day would have revolved around the children.

“I got a call from Raoul Lopez.” He looked momentarily surprised, and not particularly curious. The calls from her agent were rare these days, and usually unproductive. “He offered me a very interesting story in Korea.

“That sounds like Raoul.” Doug looked amused, and in no way threatened by the information. “Where was the last place he tried to send you? Zimbabwe? You wonder why he bothers.”

“He thought I might agree to do the story. It was for the Sunday Times Magazine, about an adoption racket that's murdering babies in Korea. But he thought it would take three or four weeks, and I told him I couldn't do it.”

“Obviously. There's no way you could go to Korea, not even for three or four minutes.”

“That's what I told him.” But she realized as she looked at Doug that she wanted him to thank her for not going. She wanted him to understand what she'd given up, and that she would have liked to do it. “He said he'd try again with something closer to home, like the piece in Harlem.”

“Why don't you just take your name off their roster? That really makes more sense. There's no point leaving your name on and having him call you for stories you're not going to do anyway. I'm really surprised he still bothers to call you. Why does he?”

“Because I'm good at what I do,” she said quietly, “and editors still ask for me, apparently. It's flattering, at least.” She was groping for something, asking him for something, and he wasn't getting the message from her. In this area at least, he never did. He missed it completely.

“You never should have done that story in Harlem. It probably gave them the idea that you're still open to offers.” It was obvious to her as she listened to him that he wanted the door to her career closed even more firmly than it had been. And suddenly she was intrigued by the idea of opening it, just a crack, if she could find another assignment near home like the one she'd done in Harlem.

“It was a great story. I'm glad I did it,” she said, as the waiter handed them the menus, but suddenly she wasn't hungry. She was upset again. He didn't seem to understand what she was feeling. But maybe she couldn't blame him. She wasn't even sure she understood it. Suddenly she was missing something she had given up, for all intents and purposes, fourteen years before, and she expected him to know that, without having explained it to him. “I wouldn't mind working again, just a little bit, if I could fit it into everything else I'm doing. I've never really thought about it for all these years. But I'm beginning to think I miss working.”

“What brought that on?”

“I'm not sure,” she said honestly. “I was talking to Gail yesterday and she was harping on me about wasted talent, and then Raoul called today, and that story sounded so enticing.” And their conversation the night before had added fuel to the fire, when he dismissed her career and her father's like just so much playtime. All of a sudden she felt as though she needed to validate her existence. Maybe Gail was right and all she had become was a maid, a short-order cook, and a chauffeur. Maybe it was time to drag out her old career and dust it off a little.

“Gail always is a troublemaker, isn't she? …What about the sweetbreads?” As he had the night before, Doug was dismissing what she was saying, and it made India feel lonely as she looked at him over her menu.

“I think she's still sorry she gave up her career. She probably shouldn't have,” India added, ignoring his question about their dinner, and thinking that Gail probably wouldn't be having lunch with Dan Lewison if she had something else to do, but she said nothing to Doug about it. “I'm lucky. If I go back at some point, I can pick and choose what I do. I don't have to work full-time, or go all the way to Korea to do it.”

“What are you saying to me?” He had ordered for both of them, and faced her squarely across the table, but he did not look pleased by what she was saying. “Are you telling me you want to go back to work, India? That's not possible and you know it.” He didn't even give her a chance to answer his question.

“There's no reason why I couldn't do an occasional story, if it was local, is there?”

“For what? Just to show off your photographs? Why would you want to do that?” He made it sound so vain, and so futile, that she was almost embarrassed by the suggestion. But something about the way he resisted it suddenly made her feel stubborn.

“It's not a matter of showing off. It's about using a gift I have.” Gail had started it all the day before, with her pointed questions, and ever since, the ball had just kept rolling. And his resistance to it made it all seem that much more important.

“If you're so anxious to use your ‘gift,’ “ he said in a mildly contemptuous tone, “use it on the children. You've always taken great pictures of them. Why can't that satisfy you, or is this one of Gail's crusades? Somehow I feel her hand in this, or is Raoul getting you all stirred up? He's just out to make a buck anyway. Let him do it using someone else. There are plenty of other photographers he can send to Korea.”

“I'm sure he'll find one,” India said quietly as the pate they had ordered was put on the table. “I'm not saying I'm irreplaceable, I'm just saying the kids are getting older, and maybe once in a while I could do an assignment.” She was beginning to feel dogged about it.

“We don't need the money, and Sam is only nine, for heaven's sake. India, the kids need you.”

“I wasn't suggesting I leave them, Doug. I'm just saying it might be important to me.” And she wanted him to understand that. Only the day before she had told Gail how little she cared about having given up her career, and now, after listening to her and Raoul, and Doug belittling her the night before, suddenly it all mattered. But he refused to hear it.

Why would it be important to you? That's what I don't understand. What's so important about taking pictures?” She felt as though she were trying to crawl up a glass mountain, and she was getting nowhere.

“It's how I express myself. I'm good at it. I love it, that's all.”

“I told you, then take pictures of the kids. Or do portraits of their friends, and give them to their parents. There's plenty you can do with a camera, without taking assignments.”

“Maybe I'd like to do something important. Did that ever occur to you? Maybe I want to be sure my life has some meaning.”

“Oh, for God's sake.” He put down his fork and looked at her with annoyance. “What on earth has gotten into you? It's Gail. I know it.”

“It's not Gail,” she tried to defend herself, but was feeling hopeless, “it's about me. There has to be more meaning in life than cleaning up apple juice off the floor when the kids spill it.”

“You sound just like Gail now,” he said, looking disgusted.

“What if she's right, though? She's doing a lot of stupid things with her life, because she feels useless, and her life has no purpose. Maybe if she were doing something intelligent with herself, she wouldn't need to do other things that are pointless.”

“If you're trying to tell me she cheats on Jeff, I figured that out years ago. And if he's too blind to see it, it's his own fault. She runs after everything in pants in Westport. Is that what you're threatening me with? Is that what this is really about?” He looked furious with her as the waiter brought their main course. Their romantic night out was being wasted.

“Of course not.” India was quick to reassure him. “I don't know what she does,” she lied to protect her friend, but Gail's indiscretions were irrelevant to them, and none of Doug's business. “I'm talking about me. I'm just saying that maybe I need more in my life than just you and the children. I had a great career before I gave it up, no matter how unimportant you seem to think it was, and maybe I can retrieve some small part of it now to broaden my horizons.”

“You don't have time to broaden your horizons,” he said sensibly. “You're too busy with the children. Unless you want to start hiring baby-sitters constantly, or leaving them in day care. Is that what you have in mind, India? Because there's no other way for you to do it, and frankly I won't let you. You're their mother, and they need you.”