Mending Fences. Sherryl Woods

during that winter and spring. For the first time in her marriage, Marcie actually felt as if she were a part of the community around her. She liked knowing everyone on her block and the next, being able to exchange greetings with people and ask about their families and jobs, rather than living in isolation the way they had in their old neighborhood.

      She’d never told anyone, not even Emily who would surely understand, about the early financial struggles she and Ken had had in their marriage. She felt as if it would be a betrayal of her husband. Ken had worked hard to rise above their past. They’d scraped by and saved until they could afford an impressive house in a well-to-do area, but even before they’d moved, he’d insisted they strive for a certain image. Sometimes he worried more about the image than the substance of their lives, but Marcie understood. She knew he wanted only the best for her and their kids. He was single-minded about it. If he was impatient with her when she tried to get him to slow down or questioned his priorities, well, he’d earned the right to have things his way. She’d long since reconciled herself to that.

      Oddly, though she and Emily had become extremely close, Derek and Ken didn’t get along all that well. She didn’t understand it. Derek was a great guy. He was warm and funny, the kind of dad who showed a real interest in all of the kids and actually listened when they spoke to him. He and Ken should have had a thousand things in common, but there was a wariness between them that sometimes cast a pall over their get-togethers. If they’d been a couple of kids, she would have described it as some kind of rivalry, but they were both mature adults.

      Still, it was plain that Ken was always trying too hard to impress Derek and Derek knew it. It was happening again tonight as they ate by the pool at her house.

      “You should have seen it,” Ken boasted. “I had those guys eating out of the palm of my hand. The best wine. Steaks so tender you could cut ’em with a butter knife. Then Marcie here has to go and ruin it all by bringing in these little cups of pudding.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what she was thinking.”

      “It was chocolate mousse with shaved white chocolate on top, not pudding,” she said defensively. “And in case you didn’t notice, they ate every bite and asked for seconds, so I’d have to say it was a hit.”

      “They ate it to be polite,” Ken scoffed.

      “I’m sure it was delicious,” Emily said loyally. “Marcie knows more about entertaining than most people will ever know.”

      “Thank you,” Marcie said, feeling her cheeks flushing at the praise. Or maybe it was from embarrassment that her husband was demeaning her in front of their friends.

      “I don’t suppose you have any of that mousse left,” Derek asked wistfully. “It’s one of my favorites. Needless to say, Emily never makes it.”

      “Yes, needless to say,” Emily said, shooting him a grateful look. “I did make instant pudding a couple of weeks ago.”

      Ken frowned at both of them and their attempt to elevate Marcie’s efforts.

      “I still think some fancy soufflé would have impressed them more,” Ken grumbled, then brightened. “The bottom line, though, is that the next day they signed on the dotted line. Biggest account I’ve reeled in yet. I’m telling you that vice presidency is mine.”

      “You’ve worked hard enough for it,” Marcie said, relieved that he’d dropped the topic of her cooking. “You certainly deserve it.”

      “Damn straight,” Ken said. He looked at Derek, and for an instant there was none of the usual bluster in his voice, when he said, “Maybe you can give me some pointers on how to handle the boss to make sure I get the job. You’ve been a vice president at Jankovich and Davis for a while now, right?”

      “A couple of years,” Derek said. “Only thing I can tell you is to work hard and do your job. Go above and beyond whenever the opportunity presents itself. In the end that’s the kind of thing that gets their attention.”

      Ken looked flustered. “You didn’t spend a lot of time schmoozing with ’em, telling ’em you were the right guy for the job?”

      “Not really,” Derek said, then added diplomatically, “but they’re two different companies, Ken. I’m dealing with international sales. You’re dealing with public relations. You know how things work with the people in charge where you are. You have to use the tactics that work under those conditions.”

      Ken nodded. “Flash and dazzle, that’s what works with my boss,” he said confidently. “In PR, it’s all about the sizzle, you know what I mean?”

      Derek grinned. “I know exactly what you mean.”

      Marcie sat back and relaxed for the first time since the discussion had started. For once it seemed the two men were on the same wavelength. With any luck that would last through dessert.

      And tonight she’d been smart enough to bake Ken’s favorite cake with caramel frosting. It had taken forever to get the caramel just right, but it would be worth it if he ended the evening with a smile on his face.

      Sometimes it seemed she spent as many hours of her day trying to please her husband as Ken spent trying to win the praise of his bosses. In that regard, they both had tough jobs.

      There wasn’t a chance in hell she’d ever admit it, but sometimes she envied Emily, whose identity clearly wasn’t all tied up in gaining her husband’s approval. There’d been a time when Marcie had actually known exactly who she was—a pretty girl from a modest background who was smart, but far from brilliant, and more interested in cooking and baking than the corporate world. She’d also known what she’d wanted out of life. She wanted to marry an ambitious man with potential, have a family and enough money to buy not only the things they needed, but the things they wanted. She’d thought she’d won the lottery when she married Ken, but lately she wondered if she hadn’t given up more than she’d gotten.

      She glanced over at Ken and wondered what had happened to the handsome guy who’d pursued her with the same single-minded determination he now used to chase down new accounts at work. He was still good-looking, still driven, but increasingly it seemed he was taking her for granted. Maybe that’s what happened after ten years of marriage, but sometimes she longed for the days when he couldn’t keep his hands off her, when he used his charm on her, not on everyone except her.

      She sighed and focused her attention on the conversation, which had returned to football as Derek and Ken debated the Dolphins’ chances for making the Super Bowl and lamented bygone days under Coach Don Shula. She glanced across the table and saw that Emily was just as bored as she was.

      “Time for dessert?” she inquired brightly. “It’s chocolate cake with caramel frosting.”

      “From some can?” Ken asked in a scathing tone.

      She gave him a chiding look. “Have you ever known me not to make it from scratch?”

      His expression brightened. “Okay, then. I’ll take a piece. A big one.”

      “Me, too,” Derek said just as eagerly. “Nobody bakes the way you do, Marcie.”

      “Certainly not in our house,” Emily agreed unapologetically.

      Marcie marveled at the exchange. Derek’s tone hadn’t held even a hint of implied criticism of his wife and Emily’s response had been just as easygoing. Why couldn’t Ken speak to her or about her the same way? And why couldn’t she make herself speak up if his attitude bothered her so much?

      Knowing she wouldn’t find an answer to that tonight, she pushed the topic aside and went inside with Emily to cut the cake. At least she’d gotten that right.

       Chapter 3

      “Mom, can Caitlyn spend the night?” Dani asked Emily on Friday. “Please. It’s not a school night and her mom says it’s okay with her if it’s okay with you.”

      Emily thought of her plans to try