“So Chicago permanent?” he asked. “Nothing is permanent,” Claire answered. “Photography steady?”
“It’s getting steadier.” “Benefits?” Jack set down his fork. “Dad.”
Claire touched Jack’s knee under the table. “It’s fine.” Then she looked at Daniel. “No, not yet. I buy my own insurance. I’m still glad I changed jobs.”
Daniel nodded as if storing the information. Later, while Jack helped Evelyn clear dishes, Daniel found Claire alone near the living-room fireplace. “He’s happier,” he said. Claire looked toward the kitchen. “He is.”
“I thought happiness was a weak way to choose work.” “And now?” Daniel stared into the fire. “Now I think unhappiness is an expensive way to prove something.”
Claire smiled slightly. “You could tell him that.” “I just did, through you.” “That is cowardly.”
Daniel looked at her, then laughed unexpectedly. “You’ll do.” Christmas approached again with none of the cinematic certainty of the year before.
Jack and Claire had been together almost twelve months. They knew one another better, which meant they loved one another with more information and more risk. Claire knew Jack could retreat into work. Jack knew Claire could convert disappointment into silence. Both knew chemistry did not solve geography.