Frank polished off the last of the cookies after a dinner of homemade chicken potpie. "Man, you're absolutely spoiling me tonight. What's the occasion?"

"Nothing in particular," Harriet said. "Just felt like doing a little baking."

Sam stuffed the last of his dessert into his mouth so quickly he barely had time to chew. "I helped taste test," he mumbled around the mouthful.

"That's awesome! All I get to test are the props we might use in our clients' ads, and they don't even listen to our feedback half the time." Frank rubbed the back of his head with a halfhearted chuckle. "It's always reassuring to know they don't even trust us to pick out the right chair, yet somehow they're perfectly okay with letting me film the stinking commercial."

"No more pet pajamas, I hope. The day they have you test those out yourself is the day you have to find another job, or at least show me pictures."

"Lord, no! We've actually got some pretty cool stuff coming down the pipeline. Which reminds me..." He clasped his hands in front of him and gave her that look, the one that told Harriet whatever he was about to ask her would be as appealing as counting the crumbs speckling her plate. "Would it be alright with you if I head to Pennsylvania for a couple days? Ryan was supposed to go, but he's got Peter that week."

"You're leaving again?" Sam's voice cracked with tears that would no doubt be soaking through his pillow later that night.

"Only if your mom says it's okay, buddy."

Oh, so that was his strategy. "Why are you pinning this decision on me?" she asked as she crossed her arms. "It's your job. If you want to go waltzing off to cover someone else's behind, that's on you."

He put his hands up defensively. "I just don't want you to feel like I'm not thinking about you, babe. You know I'd rather stay here, but this is a really big client. If I nail this, I might even land myself a promotion!"

"Sounds like you already know what you want to do."

"Babe, please. I just want you to be happy. How's about you think it over for a while, okay?"

So on top of not being able to say no to his coworkers, he couldn't say yes without asking for her permission now. "Fine, but only if you do too. It's your job and your decision, period."

Sam quietly excused himself from the table as his parents stared each other down.

###

A week later, Harriet stood in front of the mansion her ex shared with one of the richest women in the state, feeling as powerless and insignificant as the ants marching across the sidewalk.

Vicky ushered Harriet into her perfectly maintained garden with a plateful of cucumber sandwiches and a bottle of wine. "There's plenty more where this came from. Don't be shy!"

Of course she had extras, Harriet thought. Vicky was always ready for anything.

Clusters of perfectly trimmed rose bushes ringed a fountain topped by a dull green statue of some long-forgotten general and his horse. The copper equine pawed the air with its hooves as if it was ready to charge the table where they were sitting. The goldfish circling the lily pads scattered throughout the fountain's base were a recent addition, one Harriet didn't doubt was far from the last.

Yet, despite the constant changes, everything felt as if Vicky had planned it from the start, all the way down to the individual pieces of gravel in the pathways that wound through the vibrant garden. That was one of the many perks of marrying a CEO, Harriet supposed. Nature had become her own personal art studio.

"Is Carol not coming today?" Harriet asked.

"I haven't heard from her in days. Not even a single text," Vicky said. She took a dainty bite of her cucumber sandwich. "Last I heard, she and Ryan are meeting with their lawyers again. He's trying to take full custody of Peter. At least, that's what I think she said." Her face wore an expression Harriet recognized from the day she'd met her all the way back in college. Their lives had changed a lot since then, but Vicky still had a habit of biting her lip when she was lost in thought. "It was kind of hard to hear the whole story over that electric mixer of hers."

Harriet winced. "That certainly explains some things. Sam's been saying Peter's acting real weird at school."

"That's called being a boy," Vicky said with a chuckle. "Yesterday, Ollie hid a centipede in my shoe. I don't know which of us freaked out more when I nearly stepped on the little guy!"

"It's not that kind of weird," Harriet said. "Sounds more like the kid needs a hug. He hasn't even been smiling at anyone's jokes, and Sam thinks he saw him crying during recess. Poor little guy's had it rough ever since Carol and Ryan split up."

"Speaking of having it rough," Vicky said, "how's it going with Frank? Is he getting his shit together yet?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

"Ooh, do tell!" Vicky leaned forward, her massive hoop earrings swaying. "This is just like old times, isn't it? You, me, and the latest bullshit people are putting you through."

"I suppose it is." Harriet chuckled halfheartedly before massaging her temples. "Although I did give him permission. Stupid Frank and his stupid, sexy shoulder massages. He knows me too well, Vicks. Plays me like a fiddle."

"Let me guess, another trip?" Vicky swirled her wine before taking a sip. "Where to this time?"

Harriet breathed a sigh of relief. Had Patricia been there, she would have given her patented what-did-I-tell-you look, shaking her head as she reminded Harriet that Frank wasn't the only one who needed to put their foot down. Vicky wasn't like that. No, she understood when someone just needed to vent.

"Pennsylvania. Ryan was supposed to go, but..."

"But he got Frank to handle it. At least it isn't anywhere too exciting. Next time they should send him off to New Jersey, teach him how good he has it here."

"Goodness, no!" Harriet laughed before taking a long sip of wine. Velvety and soft, it met her throat the same way Vicky's voice met her ears. "Nobody deserves that. And I get why he's doing it, especially if you're right about Ryan fighting for custody of Peter. Sam just misses him so much, and sometimes I..." Tears burned in Harriet's eyes as she swallowed a lump in her throat. "Sometimes I feel like a single mom."

"Eleanor's always busy with work stuff, too. Sure she lets me tag along, but I usually get stuck making sure Ollie behaves himself while she schmoozes with investors."

"Yeah, at Michelin star restaurants, ballet recitals, and whatever else rich people do for fun." None of which appealed to Harriet in the slightest, but that wasn't the point. She'd come to Vicky's to vent, not to have Eleanor thrown in her face. Especially not if Eleanor wasn't treating Vicky right. "At least she actually spends time with you. When Frank's around, he barely even has the energy to watch TV."

"The things I've had to do to keep her attention..." Vicky downed the rest of her wine before pouring herself another glass.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the fountain's burbling as they finished their sandwiches. Vicky was biting her lip again. Back when they were together, Harriet would have kissed her worries away until they were both too flustered and breathless to think of anything but each other.

That old flame had long since fizzled out, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to see her upset.

"Carol let me bake with her the other day." Harriet barely stopped herself from smirking as Vicky raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing like watching her in the kitchen."

"Wait. She actually let you come over?" Vicky let out a low whistle. "Damn, and here I thought she was just saying she would to make you feel better. I can't even remember the last time she let me visit."

"The place is a mess! I practically had to go through an obstacle course just to get to the kitchen, but..." Harriet stared at her nails, feigning disinterest while she basked in Vicky's full attention. "She did show me a little trick."

Vicky's eyes widened. "Girl, you've been holding out on me! Now you absolutely have to spill it." She leaned so far across the table Harriet caught a whiff of her tropical-scented shampoo.

Harriet brought a finger to her lips. "What happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen." Vicky would think she'd gone crazy if she told her she'd treated the dough like a sick cross between a therapist and a punching bag. Besides, it wasn't every day that she had something her ex didn't.

"And I'm guessing you don't even have any leftovers?"

"Sorry, Vicks. Sam and Frank had dibs."

"Oh, poo! You're no fun." Vicky crossed her arms with a pout. A playful pout with her lips constantly threatening to twitch into a smile. "At least promise me you'll share next time."

Harriet laughed. "I promise I'll try, but I don't exactly have much self-control when it comes to desserts."

"Ooh, you could make pumpkin pie. Or maybe not, now that everything from Pringles to pasta sauce is pumpkin spice flavored. Maybe brownies? Except I can't control myself around those. Carrot cake might be—" A crimson blush bloomed on Vicky's cheeks as she caught herself. "I guess you're not the only one without any self-control."

Harriet waved off her embarrassment. "Hey, who isn't a slave to their sweet tooth?"