He laughed.
For the rest of the week, Claire found herself thinking about Saturday at strange times.
During a budget meeting, someone said “long-term retention,” and Claire remembered Maggie insisting Mr. Buttons needed his own seat at lunch.
During a call, Claire looked down and realized she had a tiny star sticker stuck to the cuff of her blazer.
She left it there.
The following Friday, Ethan texted.
Maggie has asked 14 times whether one Saturday a month is a law.
Claire stared at the message.
Then she typed:
Tell her the board is reviewing the policy.
His answer came immediately.
The board is apparently “not being fair.”
Claire smiled in the middle of the elevator.
The next Saturday became their second mom day.
Then there was another two weeks later.
Soon one Saturday a month became two.
Claire began protecting those days on her calendar.
At first her assistant thought PERSONAL meant she could still schedule around it.
Claire corrected that assumption.
“No meetings on those Saturdays.”
“Even if a client asks?”
“Even then.”
“What if something urgent comes up?”
“If the building is still standing, it can probably wait.”
The words surprised her.
Six months earlier, Claire would have considered them irresponsible.
Now she wondered why she had once treated every request like an emergency.
Her company did not collapse.
Projects still moved.
People solved problems without her.
Some of them even seemed more confident because she had stopped stepping into every decision.
Claire began leaving the office before dinner twice a week.
The first time she did, three employees looked genuinely confused.
Nothing terrible happened.
That was almost disappointing.
She had spent years believing everything depended on her.
It turned out some of that belief had been pride dressed up as responsibility.
Maggie’s weekends became the part of Claire’s life she looked forward to most.
They learned to braid hair together.
Claire’s first attempts were uneven.
Maggie rated them on a ten-point scale.
“Six.”
“Six?”
“One side is bigger.”
“Art is not always symmetrical.”
“My head should be.”
They baked cookies.
The first batch came out shaped like lumpy stars.
Maggie declared them “space rocks” and ate two.
They visited the zoo.
The aquarium.
A neighborhood art fair.
