Vacation

by Jane Green

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

In this witty, deeply honest tale of married life, New York Times bestselling author Jane Green delves into the heart of the holidays—and the winter of one woman’s discontent . . . Just when she’d sworn off men for good, Sarah Evans met Eddie. Sarah was a magazine editor, living in Manhattan, and loving her life—except for the heartbreaks. A successful real estate developer, Eddie was a breath of fresh air, a meeting of minds—and bodies. Soon came wedded bliss, baby number one—and the proverbial move to the suburbs . . . You just sit there like a slob while I do all the work. Nine years later, this is increasingly what goes through Sarah’s mind when she looks at Evan, propped in front of the TV with a beer, ignoring their two children. The truth is, she misses her old life. She misses the old Eddie. She can’t help wondering if she’d be happier alone . . . When Eddie’s job sends him to Chicago indefinitely, Sarah shocks him by suggesting a trial separation. But she knows it’s just a precursor to divorce—even if Eddie chooses to think of it as a “vacation.” Yet a lot can change—on both sides—as time goes by. And once Christmas arrives, Sarah and Eddie might re-discover gifts they’d forgotten they had . . . Previously published in This Christmas.

Release date: October 29, 2019

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 99

Sample

This is how it is for Sarah Evans. Sarah who appears to have everything in life she could possibly need: a husband who is a successful real-estate developer in Manhattan, a perfect 1960s colonial in a picture-book-perfect small town in upstate New York, and two beautiful dark-haired children—Maggie and Walker.

They have been married for eight years, but Sarah doesn’t think about their wedding very often these days. Occasionally, when she dusts the enormous black-and-white picture sitting on the mantelpiece, she will pause as she gazes at her younger, happier self, and at the man she thought she was marrying. But her mind has emptied itself of the happy memories, the laughter they once shared, and looking at that picture she may as well be looking at two strangers.

Because this is Sarah’s overwhelming feeling when Eddie, her husband, is at home.

A stranger. Estranged. Strange.

Her happiest times or, rather, the times when she most fully feels herself, are when Eddie’s at work. Then she can operate as a normal person. She can vacuum the family room and drink gallons of coffee as she turns Z100 up to full blast and sings along to the Black Eyed Peas and Usher.

She can dance around the kitchen as the children sit at the kitchen table, wide-eyed with delight at how silly Mommy is, giggling as they play with the chicken nuggets and—in a bid to try to get some vegetables into them—corn salad, and if she’s very lucky, peas.

Sarah can, and does, meet with her friends for impromptu coffee and conversation. She can put her feet up in front of the Cooking Channel and scribble down delicious-sounding recipes, vowing one day to actually make them.

She can sit at the desk in the kitchen, sifting through the ever-mounting piles, making phone calls, organizing household bills, getting on with the work of being a wife, mother, and household manager.

Occasionally Sarah will still try to delegate an odd job to Eddie, each time praying that he will actually do it, that somehow if he manages to fulfill her wish it will mean that their marriage will get back on track, that she, or they, will find happiness again, but each time Eddie forgets, and with a sigh of irritation Sarah finds herself adding another job to the next day’s “to-do” list.

None of her friends realize quite how unhappy Sarah is. It isn’t as if she sits around weeping, but this sense of dissatisfaction, of unease, of knowing that her life wasn’t supposed to turn out like this, follows her around twenty-four hours a day, climbs out of bed with her in the mornings, scrubs her back in the shower, and keeps her company as she goes about her day until they both climb into bed at the end of the day, exhausted and preparing for more of the same the next day.

She did used to be happy. She knows that at some time in her life she used to be happy, but it was such a long time ago, and she’s become so used to feeling the way she feels now, to this feeling of being stuck, that the memory of actually being happy has almost entirely faded away.

But today, as she dusts the mantelpiece, she stops as she wipes the cloth over the glass covering her wedding picture, she takes the picture over to the sofa and sits down, staring beyond the glass to nine years ago, when she was twenty-seven, the features editor of Poise!—a young women’s magazine—living on Manhattan’s Upper West Side and loving every minute of it.

She’d been dating a series of unsuitable men, had just finished a heartbreaking affair with a journalist at GQ, and had sworn off men completely.

“No,” she kept insisting to her colleagues, “this time I mean it.”

And of course doesn’t it always happen when you least expect it, when you’re adamant that this time you really don’t want it. That was exactly when Sarah met Eddie. When she thought a relationship was the very last thing in life she needed.

On their very first date it had been, Sarah used to say, a true meeting of the minds, never mind the overwhelming physical attraction she felt to this dark, slim, confident man. From the minute she saw him she loved his brown eyes, his floppy hair, his slow smile, although she didn’t let on until their first actual date.

In those early days every time Eddie showed up at her apartment to pick her up, or they met in restaurants for dinner, Sarah would feel her heart skip a beat when she saw him, a heady mixture of excitement and anticipation.

She thought she was going to marry him but she didn’t know she was going to marry him for sure until the first time they slept together. Sarah had never had so much fun in her life. She wasn’t performing, wasn’t worrying, and she knew then that she never wanted to be with another man ever again.

They married less than a year later—a stylish and intimate wedding at the Cosmopolitan club, and the first three years were a whirlwind of fun city living, seen through the rose-tinted eyes of a couple in love.

Sarah loved the city, loved everything about the city, but when she became pregnant they started driving out to the suburbs on the weekends—just for a look around—and there was something about a white clapboard colonial with a picket fence and roses growing up an arbor that Sarah started to find increasingly appealing. Before long her fantasies were less about fitting into her favorite Ralph Lauren shift, and more about creating a proper home for her new family.

She gave up her job three months before Walker was born and attempted to settle into the house of their dreams before the big day.

In those early days it was much like playing a giant game. Sarah used to feel that she was playing house; pretending to be a grown-up, pretending to be her mother. She would study cookbooks and come up with recipes, even though prior to that Sarah had never cooked anything other than scrambled eggs—even that was rare—but once they moved into the suburbs Sarah was determined to do what every good suburban housewife should do: have delicious, nutritious meals prepared for Eddie when he got home.

Eddie would walk in the house, delighted at how well Sarah was adapting to the suburbs, thrilled at how she was cooking and making a home for them, and they would sit at the dining room table talking about their day, and saying over and over again what a great decision this was, how happy they were to be out of the city, away from the noise and the pace and the stress.

Sarah would never have admitted it but even then she wasn’t completely honest with herself. She did love her new house—loved the space, and the large kitchen, and stairs—stairs! But she missed walking everywhere. She missed the convenience of the city; running out of their apartment whenever they needed something, and always being able to find it within a couple of blocks, any time of the day or night.

She missed the noise of the city, missed the noise of their clanking air-conditioning unit so much that Eddie came home one day with a white-noise machine, and they’ve been sleeping to a background of loud crackle ever since.

And she missed her friends, even though once Walker was born she realized that they were living in different worlds, that although she enjoyed living vicariously through her old friends—mostly colleagues on the magazine, all of whom were still single—once they’d caught up on one another’s lives there wasn’t that much in common anymore, and none of them were particularly interested in her life as a new mother.

They rarely made it out to see her, and Lord knows she didn’t have time to get on a train and go and see them, not with a baby in tow, so filled with animosity she reluctantly joined a “mommy and me” group and much to her surprise started to meet women whom she liked, some of whom actually became friends.

By the time Maggie was born, Sarah and Eddie were definitely out of the honeymoon period. Those gourmet meals that Sarah used to cook were long gone, replaced by hot dogs, chicken fingers, and take-out pizza. Ed. . .