Friday of the same week

Berry felt like he was owed sleep. The past week had been harder than usual with the last-minute scrambles inherent to meeting an RFP deadline. He had managed to pull the team's collective contributions together into a just-about-presentable package. Early this morning, he'd driven it out to the Janus-Klein Pharmaceuticals office in deep Mississauga to ensure that it would be stamped by their mailroom prior to 9 am.

With that major goal accomplished, he intended to drive right back home where he might possibly celebrate with a small glass of whiskey before going immediately to bed, where he hadn't been for more than 3 hours at a time all of that week.

Maddeningly, it seemed that Allegra had other plans. While Berry was lurching his way eastward through the morning rush hour traffic into the city, he received a call from Otto.

"Ber. The new woman called an all-accounts review this aft. She'll be looking to cut the wheat from the chaff. I have a bad feeling."

Berry groaned inwardly, any hope of a nap slipping away. He reluctantly put his indicator on and nosed his way over to the downtown exit.

***

The accounts review took 5 hours to get through. They went through the entire client roster, alphabetically and with great deliberation. Each account was presented by its owner, then scrutinized by committee for profitability and its potential for future billings.

In the end, Allegra put all the existing accounts into one of three piles:

Pile A: Money Makers. Profitable enough to continue expending resources against. Alarmingly small pile.

Pile B: Potentials. Accounts with potential to grow or increase billings with adjustments to the service model or some good old fashioned salesmanship (if anyone knew what that was, said Allegra snarkily).

Pile C: Deadweight. Costing more to service than they could ever hope to bring in. Accounts that were grandfathered in at low rates and were, therefore, of no use to the agency anymore. These accounts would have to be fired.

That last pile was so large that it toppled over itself as Allegra ruthlessly added to it, file folders sliding to the boardroom floor like fallen soldiers.

Berry, like most of the account directors, felt a tightening of the noose around his neck and the ghostly breeze of someone standing behind his chair ready to kick it out from under him.

***

It was nearly 8 pm by the time he parked in the back alley behind his house. He entered the lit backyard to find Berenice outside in her coat. She had a tape measure strung across the side fencing.

"Your children are ready to be put to bed," she exhaled a plume of smoke. "I'm measuring before the contractors come tomorrow. You handle the girls, please."

Despite being desperately worn out, he nodded and went in to negotiate with his daughters.

***

Noemi and Lucille were blank-faced in front of the television when he walked into the living room.

"Girls," he said, by way of opening the conversation.

"Daddy!" shouted Lucy, who, being the littlest, was still free with her affections. She jumped off the couch and ran to greet him. Berry lifted her up and enclosed her in a grateful hug. He inhaled her unwashed, candy-coated scent and felt, just for a moment, like everything was as it should be. It was a Friday night, and he was home with his women.

"Hello, loves," he started again. "Maman says it's bedtime, so let's get ready, okay? Run up and get your pyjamas on. I'll come up for stories in a minute."

Noemi, without breaking her gaze on the flickering screen, impudently answered, "I'm not tired."

Bertrand, who prided himself on being more level headed than his wife even on no sleep, walked over to the coffee table, still holding Lucy. He bent awkwardly to pick up the remote and tapped the off button like a judge delivering swift justice. There was a moment of eye contact between father and eldest daughter that felt eternal. Each sized the other up, determining how far the other could reasonably be pushed to one's own end.

"Gnome," Berry said reasonably, using her babyhood nickname to soften her. "It is bedtime, and I am asking you to go get ready."

"I'm not tired," she said again evenly. "And I'm almost seven. She's only four. It's not fair that we have the same bedtime. You can put Lucy to bed. Then maybe I'll come up."

Berry considered her case. He knew he shouldn't. He knew that being anything less than absolute would result in even greater resistance next time. But on the other hand, he was so tired. And it would most likely be Berenice next time anyway.

He shrugged. "Okay, deal." He hefted Lucy a little higher onto his shoulder and made his way up the stairs.