Chapter 1

The years immediately following my divorce were good to me professionally even if they were unkind to me romantically.

My boss retired six months after Julie and I signed the papers. She had been slowing down for a couple of years but her retirement still was surprising — at least to me.

Beyond all reason I was immediately promoted to replace her and ordered to restructure the department top to bottom.

It was easier than I thought it would be. I was given carte blanche to create what amounted to a human resources department which took care of hiring, firing and all matters relating to employee benefits.

I readily admit that I stole the format from a company similar to ours but it worked extremely well so I offer no apologies. Fresh off my success in reorganizing the department, I was told to refine our benefits packages which hadn't seen significant changes in 20 years.

During the revamping of my department I had shamelessly raided other sections for people that I believed would be better suited in mine. Some people who had been attached to the departments I was consolidating were reassigned and some took early retirement rather than face the changes. At the outset we had 15 people nominally attached to the department but I managed to reduce the number to 8 through streamlined procedures and the elimination of redundancy.

The people I brought aboard were wonderful. My primary role was training them to do their jobs. Once that was accomplished I let them do their work and got out of their hair. I could tell from some of the early questions that this was a novel approach in our company.

I convinced the owners to take a long-term view when approaching the new benefits package. We focused on retention and expansion. One of our largest expenses was training people. If we could keep people longer — with better benefits and a friendlier environment — I suspected we could halve our training budget within five years.

There was some grumbling about the loss of some programs that had been offered but it stopped once the new ones were fully implemented. Within 18 months our turnover rate had dropped 30 percent and we were flooded with resumes from people who worked for our competitors but wanted to join us. We moved into the expansion phase.

The expansion accelerated less than a year later when the owners decided to sell the company to a consortium with a multitude of interests ranging from manufacturing plants to real estate development. Again, against sound judgment, the new owners had big plans for me. They offered promotions to my entire staff — right down to the part-time receptionist who worked only Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons. We would still be based in our old office but we would have new responsibilities.

Within three years I had gone from assistant personnel director for a company that employed less than 1,000 workers to assistant vice president of employee relations for a company of almost 500,000. It was overwhelming but everyone constantly told me that I had earned the promotions and that I would do well.

I could only hope they were right.

Five members of the staff accepted the promotion but the travel involved in the new job turned four people off. They were promoted anyway and were placed in charge of human resources of the branch that used to be our company.

There were still responsible to me, so very little changed in the day-to-day operations except their paychecks.

I'm not sure if there was a vice president of employee relations but if there was I never met him during my time as his assistant. A year into my new job I was handed that title and given an additional task. It was my job to try to find a way to ease contract stalemates at three of our union shops. The first two were relatively easy. The union was asking for programs that were already in the pipeline but that hadn't been announced. We just pushed the timetable forward and settled within a day or two — after exacting a couple of concessions from them, of course.

It was the third one that led me to Los Angeles.

I had spent three days in Los Angeles listening to an unreasonable woman relate demands that could never be met. For some unknown reason, I thought repeatedly about Julie. I thought about how unreasonable some of my demands had been all those years ago.

It was after 5 p.m. when I sat down in my hotel and pulled out my cell phone. I still had one of her numbers stored there. I dialed and voice mail picked up before it even rang.

"Uh, hi Julie," I stammered. "This is David. Uh, David Newman. I know it's been a while but I was in L.A. and I thought I might treat my favorite ex-wife to dinner. My cell phone number hasn't changed but in case you need it, here it is."

I read off the digits.

"I hope things are going well for you and to hear from you soon. Bye."

I was certain that things were going well for Julie. Although I had never contacted her, I was pretty up to date on her career. A year or so after we divorced I noticed a link to a syndicated strip on Julie's Web site. I checked it out. Although it was drawn under a pen name, I had seen enough of her doodles over the years to recognize her work immediately.

The critics said "Tracy Takes Off" is "Sex in the City meets Doonesbury." I guess that was as apt a description as I could have come up with. The comic — for want of a better term — is in serial format. Although to my knowledge it had never been picked up by the newspapers where I lived, I read a couple of years before on her site that it appeared in more than 500 papers in the U.S. Not bad.

"Tracy" chronicled the travails of a newly divorced 30-something woman trying to make her way in the dating scene. I checked out a couple weeks worth of the series and I was impressed with the drawing and the storytelling.

I was not impressed by the way her ex-husband was portrayed as an arrogant, self-center jerk who tried to squelch Tracy's budding career as a photojournalist. The strip wasn't so much about satire as it was a morality play. I stopped reading the strip a couple of years before because I was having a difficult time keeping myself from e-mailing Julie and telling her that her ex-husband saw himself far differently from how she was portraying him. And from telling her that any problems she had in the dating world were her own creation. If she had been willing to be any sort of partner, we'd still be married.

But I was happy that she had realized her dreams. I was only hurt and sorry that it had taken leaving me behind for her to do it.

I had no more than put my cell phone on the stand when it beeped to let me know I had a new voice mail. I hesitated to pick it up because twice the night before the shrew from the negotiating committee had called to tell me another thing she decided the company owed the workers.

Still, I punched in my code to check my message.

"David," a hesitant voice started. "This is Julie. I saw you on TV and I wanted to get in touch. I know you'll be busy this week but if you get the chance, give me a call."

She read off the number I had just dialed.

I tried the number again and got a busy signal this time. When I closed the phone it rang in my hand. When I answered I heard, "Phone tag; you're it," and a laugh and a click.

It was a game we had played in college when we had difficulty reaching the other.

I tried Julie's number for a third time and this time she answered.

"Hi, Stranger than Most," I said, another nickname from better times. It earned another giggle. I couldn't remember the last time I had heard her laugh at something I said.

"I am surprised Mr. Executive has time to call," she joked. "I must have caught you between the caviar and the aperitif."

"You caught me between the Big Mac and the French fries," I replied. I couldn't believe how nervous I was to be talking to a woman I had spent almost a third of my life around.

"So you've already had dinner?" she asked in a voice that didn't sound as cheerful as it had a minute before.

"No," I said. "You know a Big Mac and fries are just my appetizer for the main course."

The laughter returned. But then silence.

"Can we get together?" she asked. "I'd like to see you."

A knock on my door kept me from replying to Julie.

"We're heading out for pizza," Belinda, a woman on my team, told me. "You in?"

I tried to cover the phone while I answered but with a cell phone it's impossible without disconnecting the call half the time.

"Jot down where you're heading," I said. "I might catch up to you in a while."

Belinda raised her eyebrows in question.

I silently mouthed the word "ex-wife." This drew more raised eyebrows from Belinda.

"Oh really," she said. "I didn't know you had one of that breed. I'll want to hear more about that."

She wrote down direction to a spot not far from the hotel and left.

"So," I said when I got back on the phone. "Would you happen to be free this evening?"

"I've never known you to turn down pizza and beer," Julie said. "So I guess I better make myself free."

It couldn't place my finger on it but something seemed different about Julie. It was almost like I was talking to two people. One minute I could hear her chewing on the inside of her cheek — a habit she did when she was nervous or upset. But other times I could detect almost a playfulness in her voice. Both were foreign to me.

"I haven't quite figured out how to get around here," I said. "Can we meet somewhere close to the Hyatt-Downtown. I know L.A. is huge so we might be 40 miles from each other."

We weren't 40 miles apart. We weren't even 10 blocks apart.

"I'm at my studio," she said. "It's about a five minute walk from the Hyatt — not that I'm suggesting you take your life into your hands and walk here. But it'll take less time than driving. I can meet you at your hotel or you can meet me here. Or we can meet somewhere in between."

The nervousness was back.

"Are you OK?" I asked. "Julie, I know you. Remember? I can tell when something is bothering you. I just never really knew what to do about it."

I heard a deep sigh on the other end of the line.

"I'll meet you in your lobby," she said without answering my question. "I feel like taking a walk anyway. I'll see you in about 10 minutes if you're ready."

She knew even if I wasn't ready I could be showered and dressed and in the lobby in 10 minutes.

"I'll see you in a few minutes," I said.

Julie looked as pretty as she had when I married her. I was standing off the lobby and I watched her unseen for a few seconds before announcing my presence. I couldn't help but reflect on how much I wished things had turned out differently. I really missed the girl I fell in love with. But I didn't miss the woman I divorced much at all. It was a shame those were two halves that made up a whole.

I watched as Julie glanced around the lobby and then pulled out a small compact from her purse. She checked her makeup and her teeth and fixed her hair a little. I shook my head. I thought she might have been living the life of "Tracy" a little too much.

I walked out from the hallway where I had been watching.

We exchanged an awkward hug and made small talk as we walked a couple of blocks to a little place where she often ate while working late.

Even in our darkest times Julie and I didn't have trouble talking to the other. But I guess five years apart makes a big difference because we couldn't seem to get past the monosyllabic answers.

"You seem to be doing well."

"I guess."

"Do you like your job?"

"It's OK."

"How is life treating you?"

"Touch and go at times."

Finally Julie asked a question that required explanation.

"Do you think about me?"

"Often," I answered.

"Fondly?"