“In ‘A Day’s Work,’ Matt Weiner gives us a Valentine’s episode that may not show a lot of love but does provide a lot more hope than last week’s dark season opener.” —Michael Errigo

It’s Valentine’s Day 1969 at the offices of Sterling Cooper & Price but the only love in sight is a vase of flowers meant for Shirley, Peggy’s secretary.

In “A Day’s Work,” Matt Weiner gives us a Valentine’s episode that may not show a lot of love but does provide a lot more hope than last week’s dark season opener.

In the beginning it was more of the same. The episode opens on the same disheveled Don we left out in the January cold on his balcony. This time he’s munching on Ritz crackers, his hair still a mess. A cockroach scurries across the floor, probably running from the scarecrow sitting on the couch.

Dawn, his former secretary, stops by to keep him updated on work news, ensuring him that his charade with Megan is still successful for the time being. In between notes about the office, she reminds him that the cleaning lady comes tomorrow. Don is nothing without SC&P, he even needs a secretary for the day-to-day, someone to tell him how to live.

At his former place of business, Peggy arrives to find Shirley’s red roses and thinks they’re for her. There’s no card so she assumes the worst: Ted. That California shmuck can’t shake his feelings for her. When Shirley tries to clear things up Peggy cuts her off, telling her to leave a cryptic message with Ted’s secretary that a certain “account” was dead and there was no chance of getting it back. 

It’s the kind of classic mix-up situation found in much dimmer shows that produce a few chuckles and nothing more. Hopefully the call to Ted doesn’t lead to a re-kindling or another storyline, as using a foundation this flimsy would seem cheap.

When a disgusted Peggy tells Shirley to throw the flowers away, the secretary finally tells her the truth. They were hers, sent with love from her Charles. Peggy, obviously embarrassed, lashes out at her. It’s a side of Ms. Olson we rarely see, one filled with anger and hostility. It’s disconcerting.

Episode two gives us our first look at Sally Draper (still no word on Bobby and who cares about Gene). Sally’s still the badass she was last season, smoking cigs with the wrong crowd in her boarding school bedroom.

Embracing the role of rebellious girl from a broken home, she and the bad girls decide to skip out early on a funeral they have to attend and do some shopping in the city. After a day of debauched spending, Sally, still a suburban girl at heart, discovers she lost her wallet in the big city. She heads off the train by herself and ends up at a familiar place on Madison Avenue, her father’s office. After finding only Lou Avery in the room her dad once ruled, she leaves the building confused and still very much alone.

When Don comes home from a lunch with an ad friend — a possible hint at some job market activity in the future — he finds a distressed Sally and offers to drive her back to school. When he asks her what to write in her excuse note she replies, “Just tell the truth.”

Lou chews out Dawn when she returns from buying Mrs. Avery a Valentine’s Day gift, citing her absence as the reason behind the awkward encounter he had with Sally. When he gets the sense that Dawn still has a loyalty to Don he asks Joan to take her off his desk. A stint for Dawn spent at the reception desk follows, but it only leads to a racist Burt Cooper suggesting a white face may be a better first sight for potential customers.

Joan, exasperated by a day spent rotating secretaries, a task she had back in season one, takes out her stress on Jim Cutler. In response to her stress he offers her a bigger, better office upstairs. “It’s for an account man,” he says.

Joan moves up to the big leagues and Dawn takes her old office. Dawn moving up to office manager is significant in that it’s the first real advancement we’ve seen for a black character on the show. Surely it’s a sign of the changing times. As the nation learns about equality, so does SC&P, even if the C is a bit behind the times. 

Joan’s move upstairs could potentially bring resolution to a growing tension among the partners. In an annual meeting and conference call with California, the phone line isn’t the only thing experiencing some disconnect. Is it possible that Don was the one thing holding them together?

Don drives Sally back to school, both driver and passenger hiding from each other, two elephants in the room. Sally addresses one when she brings up her trip to Don’s apartment earlier and how the very possibility that she could have run into Sylvia Rosen, the woman she caught sleeping with her married father, made her skin crawl. The incident has hung between them ever since and, while her mentioning it isn’t exactly closure, it’s something. Don responds to his daughter’s anger with a feeble “sorry.” He never says what for.

A drive turns into dinner turns into forced interaction and awkward conversation. But then something happens. The father confides in his daughter. In a series of questions with answers they discuss Don and Megan among other topics. This revelatory conversation is the physical embodiment of the look they shared in front of his childhood home. This is him trusting her. He doesn’t have anyone else.

After dinner they finally arrive back at the boarding school. A long day for both of them has wound to a close, and it’s late. The February sky is pitch black as Sally Draper climbs out of her father’s car. She says goodbye and begins to close the door when she turns back and pops her head in as if she forgot something.

She turns to her father and says, “Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you” right before the door closes.

Sidenotes:

-          In Don’s conversation with Sally, the one question that goes unanswered is: “Why don’t you just tell her that you don’t want to move to California?” Misery is all but certain for Mr. and Mrs. Draper.

-          Cool Daddy Draper, the one suggesting a dine and dash, needs to get more screen time.

-          Bonnie and Pete instantaneously become a couple to keep an eye on. They have a weird mix of passion and twistedness.

-          Here’s hoping for a quick exit for Lou Avery. That guy is the worst.

-          “Hard to believe your cat has the money.”

-          WHERE IS BOB BENSON? GIVE US BOB BENSON.