“A real wife builds her life inside her home,” Eleanor said, tugging her lapels straight with two sharp jerks of her fingers.

“Not on express trains and in executive suites.”

Daniel folded his arms across his chest and leaned his back against the door frame.

“We’re setting the balance right in this house tonight.

In the morning you can call your corporate office and tell them you’re stepping off the director track.”

“You think this cuts away my title?” I asked.

“It cuts away your vanity,” Eleanor said, slipping past Daniel into the hall.

“A woman with proper priorities doesn’t need to look like a calendar girl for strangers in Chicago.”