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about the end of the school year. It'll do them good to get to the Cape, and get it out of their systems. They need some downtime, we all do.” By this point in the school year, she was always sick to death of her car pools.
    “I wish I could take time off earlier than August,” he said, running a hand through his hair, thinking about it. But he had to oversee some marketing studies for two important new clients, and he didn't want to leave town prematurely.
    “So do I,” India said simply. “I saw Gail today. They're going to Europe this summer.” It was pointless to try and talk him into that again, she knew, and it was too late to change their plans for this summer anyway, but she would have liked to. “We really should do that next year.”
    “Let's not start that again. I didn't go to Europe till I finished college. It's not going to kill them to wait a couple of years to do that. Besides, it's too expensive with a family our size.”
    “We could afford it and we can't cheat them of that, Doug.” She didn't remind him that her parents had taken her all over the world when she was a baby. Her father had taken assignments wherever he thought it would be fun, at vacation times, and taken her and her mother with him. The traveling they'd done had been a rich experience for her, and she would have liked toshare that with their children. “I loved going with my parents,” she said quietly, but he looked annoyed, as he always did when she brought up the subject.
    “If your father had had a real job, you wouldn't have gotten to Europe as a kid either,” Doug said, almost sternly. He didn't like it when she pushed him.
    “That's a dumb thing to say. He had a real job. He worked harder than you or I did.” Or you do now, she wanted to add, but didn't. Her father had been tireless and passionately energetic. He had won a Pulitzer, for God's sake. She hated it when Doug made comments like that about him. It was as though her father's career was meaningless because he had earned his living with a camera, something that seemed childishly simple to her husband. No matter that he had lost his life in the course of what he was doing, or won international awards for it.
    “He was lucky, and you know it,” Doug went on. “He got paid for what he liked to do. Hanging out and watching people. That's kind of a fortuitous accident, wouldn't you say? It's not like going to an office every day, and having to put up with the politics and the bullshit.”
    “No,” she said, a light kindling in her eyes that should have warned him he was on dangerous ground, but he didn't see it. He was not only belittling the heroic father she revered, but he was casting aspersions on her own career at the same time, who she was, and who she had been before they married. “I think what he did was a hell of a lot harder than that, and calling it a ‘fortuitous accident’ is a real slap in the face.” To her, and to her father. Her eyes were blazing as she said it.
    “What got you all riled up today? Was Gail off on one of her tangents?” She had been, of course. She was always stirring the pot in some way, and India had said as much to Doug before, but the things he had just said about her father had really upset her and had nothing to do with Gail. It had to do with her, and how Doug felt about the work she did before they were married.
    “That has nothing to do with it. I just don't see how you can discount a Pulitzer prize-winning career and make it sound as though he got a lucky shot with a borrowed Brownie.”
    “You're oversimplifying what I said. But let's face it, he wasn't running General Motors. He was a photographer. And I'm sure he was talented, but he also probably got lucky. If he were alive today, he'd probably tell you the same thing himself. Guys like him are usually pretty honest about getting lucky.”
    “For chrissake, Doug. What are you saying? Is that what you think of my career too? I was just