Lauren Takes Leave by Gerstenblatt, Julie (ebooks children's books free txt) 📕

from the limo parked next to Lee’s Porsche. “I think I’d kindof like to be Doug.”

“So, what you’re saying is…?” I ask Doug as we drive backfrom Jodi’s house. The late-afternoon sun is dipping low in the sky and I can’thelp but feel anxious about Monday’s approach.

To think how far I’ve traveled since last Monday, only toend up right back where I started.

Only I’m not quite the same anymore, am I?

“I’m saying that Tim basically handed me the job. WeSkyped with some head of his production company who was still in her pajamasout in LA, and Tim made the introductions and was like, ‘Here’s the guy for theBuild a Better Future project,’ and that was basically it. It was insane,” hesays, shaking his head like he’s not sure what just happened to his life.

“Cool,” I say, thinking how much this past week haschanged us both. “So, when do you start?”

“Next month. Lenny said he could actually use his realaccounting skills to help me get a loan until then, to pay back Dorothy. Andthen,” he says, glancing over to me while driving, then focusing back on the roadahead, “once that project wraps, you and I should plan a trip. A long weekendsomewhere, just the two of us, to reconnect.”

“Miami?” I joke.

“Any place but.” He’s not smiling.

“How about Boston?” I say, checking my e-mails and readingquickly through one I just received from Georgie.

“Boston? Don’t you want to go someplace warm? Tropical?”

“Well, the reason is…I kind of wrote to Georgie thismorning with an idea I had, and it seems…” I trail off as I continue to readthe e-mail, verifying its contents, my excitement growing. “Georgie justoffered me a job for the summer.” Although I am beyond surprised to hear fromher so soon, I knew it was a great idea, a Georgie idea, a really big idea, themoment it came to me. “As a researcher and adjunct professor. At Harvard!” Isay, unable to keep the enthusiasm out of my voice. “Bye, bye middle school!”

Doug brakes too hard at a stop sign and glances my way. “Researchingwhat?”

“Women in midlife who want to switch careers!”

“But that’s…brilliant. It’s you in a nutshell.”

“I know! I’m brilliant! All it took was a week of cuttingschool to figure it out! And now I’m going to get to write a book about womenlike me.” And Jodi. And Kat.

“Who knew that your lack of interest in your job would beso inspiring, Mrs. Worthing.” Doug holds out his right palm and I slap it.“We’ve both failed at our jobs, and yet we’re awesome,” he concludes.

I read through the e-mail several more times before wepull into the driveway, and quickly jot I accept back to Georgie. It’s apart-time gig, which is perfect for me because it will give me some time to tryout stay-at-home motherhood and the perilous PTA. Georgie says I’ll have toprove myself over the summer before she can offer me a more substantial salaryin September. That is, if I want to continue into the fall. She says theposition requires two full days on campus, but that I could stay over in Bostonone night a week at staff housing and commute back and forth via train.

Good thing I’ve tried that train and I know it works.

And Boston isn’t that far.

From New York…and Nantucket.

So, for now, anyway, it looks like I’m keeping my day job.I won’t be storming into Martha’s office tomorrow to resign alongside Kat,which is probably a blessing in disguise. I’ll take my time and make sureDoug’s project really pans out first, wait until his company gets back on itsfeet before I formally resign.

In the meantime, I’ll get to carry that little sparklysecret around with me for the rest of the school year, knowing that I amcharting a new path for my own future, and that, although it might be risky, itwill certainly be rewarding.

I’d say it was quite a productive week, all in all,culminating in one of the best Sundays on record.

Chapter 40

Late that night, Doug and I sneak quietly down thestairs, turning off lights as we go. I’m careful to avoid that third step, theone that always creaks and brings Becca from her bed before she’s driftedsoundly off to sleep.

Somehow, though, she hears me anyway. My heart drops intomy stomach as I realize she’s standing right behind me on the landing betweenthe first and second floor.

“You woke me up!” she yells, her fists clenched by herside, tiny balls of rage.

“Shh!” I say. “Don’t wake your brother.” Doug starts toclimb back up the stairs to help me with Becca, but I shoo him away.

“I can if I want to!” My daughter’s got some seriouslypowerful lungs.

“No, you cannot!” I whisper-shout back. I’m about to getinto a screaming fight with her, I know it. This will wake Ben, who will thenwant to play on his DSi or go on the computer. It will take me another hour toget them both back to bed, thereby shattering my precarious sense of domesticbliss and squelching any interest I might have had in having sex with Dougtonight.

Which makes me think of Tim Cubix.

Tim Cubix and star charts.

“Hey, Bec!” I say, making my voice sound full of wonderand excitement. “Do you want to draw a star on your door?” I makesure to be vague enough to keep her wanting more information.

“Why?” she asks, her huge blue eyes not quite trusting meyet. At least she’s not screaming bloody murder.

“Because,” I whisper, gently guiding her back toward herroom. “That’s what good girls do. They get stars.” She nods several times tolet me know that this makes perfect sense. I reach into her art supplies andtape a purple piece of construction paper to her bedroom door. I hand her amarker.

“And then, once you get enough stars, the stars turn intopresents!” I explain. She nods again and concentrates on neatly making the fivepoints. Then she places the cap back on the marker and hands it to me so shecan slide back in under the covers.

I blow her a kiss good night and touch the star