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she was on her way when yet another call rang through. T ROSCOE, announced the screen.
    No.
    In the hairbreadth of a second, her instincts whispered:
Don’t answer it. You’re off the clock. Leave well enough alone.
    Sarah could do a great many things, but never this: She hadn’t acquired her lofty position by ignoring a ringing phone.
    She hooked up her earpiece. “Hey, Tom. What’s up?”
    Ahead of her the boat began to progress. The haze in the air made the gaping bridge and the sluggish craft appear to shimmer around the edges.
    She listened.
    “Oh, congratulations, Tom. That’s
great
news about Cornish. There’ll be a write-up on Bloomberg for sure.… Of course it makes sense. It makes sense they talked to all those people and narrowed it down to you.… You actually did that? You showed them today’s financials?”
    He continued talking, and she continued applauding his good fortune until he got to the part where he told her he’d included her in the bargain. Anyone watching Sarah in her vehicle would have seen her smile begin to broaden. At least until she realized Tom wanted her to drop what she was doing and meet him and the Cornish brothers for dinner. She gripped the steering wheel. Her face paled with distress.
    “Oh. No. I didn’t realize that’s why you were calling. I thought you were just calling to share the good news.… Tonight? I’m afraid that’s impossible. Tom, I can’t.… It’s such short notice,” she said. “What about tomorrow? Could we set it up for then?”
    If only she could make him understand! If only he would let her out of this! But without really hearing her, her employer launched into a hearty accounting of the numbers. “It’s asking a lot, Tom. I really don’t see how I can do it. You see, I have plans with my family.”
    Success always involved trade-offs, Tom reminded her. She was one of the lucky few who still had a job in the financial district. If she wasn’t delighted by her schedule, at least she and Joe had what they needed.
    Sarah thought of the responsibility of the jumbo mortgage in East Lake Forest they had to think about, their faltering retirement account, and their gas bills in this unsteady economy, the upkeep on the Lincoln, the lease on the garage in Bucktown where Joe installed racing engines in Miatas. They were still paying off some of her college loans, and she was determined to pay off the balances on their five credit cards. She knew the extra income from an account of this stature would make a huge difference for them.
    The pressure felt enormous. They were so much worse off now than they’d been a year ago. She really did not understand it, but it seemed the more money she made, the deeper in debt they became. The nanny was expensive, the cleaning lady she needed to keep up with the house was expensive, and the clothes she needed in order to be impressive were also expensive. At that moment Sarah felt as if she were being pulled apart. She didn’t want to disappoint Joe and Mitchell, but she didn’t want to disappoint Tom Roscoe either—and she definitely wanted to make more money and have more prestige on the job. She vaguely realized that not only did her head hurt really bad, but she felt a bit nauseated too.
    For the first time that day, Sarah wasn’t the woman with the power job and the personal digital device and the private nanny.
    She was only the mother and the wife who wanted to get to the ballpark, the woman who felt like she was being pulled in a dozen different directions at once. “How much time do I have?” she asked, and he told her.
    “Right now?” she asked. “Right now I’m stuck at the Lake Street Bridge.
    “If I come back, could we compromise? Could it only take a few minutes to meet with them and let me be on my way?… Of course I understand. I know it’s important, Tom. It’s set, then?” she asked, keeping her voice even. “The Everest Room?”
    The
Windy II,
only a third of the way through the