Chapter 3
“Hi, it’s Grace. Can I help you?”
“You got a minute?”
Grace sighed. “I have a little more time than that for you, Marjorie, but I’m going into a meeting soon. Is everything okay?”
“As well as can be expected. I was wondering what you’re going to do in May for Benson’s anniversary?”
Grace, who was multitasking as she talked to her mother-in-law, furrowed her brow. “Benson’s anniversary?”
“Of his passing.”
“I don’t have any plans to celebrate, Marjorie,” she said smoothly.
“Good. ’Cause it’s no occasion to celebrate. I’m talking about recognizing the day, all of us visiting his grave.”
Grace quickly bit back her immediate reaction to Marjorie’s suggestion. “By all of us, I take it you want to include Madison and Becca.”
“Yes, I do. I think they need to show their respect.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t agree with you.”
“Benson was their father,” Marjorie defended firmly.
“The key word here is was. Don’t you understand that the children don’t remember Benson? They see his picture, even pictures of him with them as babies, but they don’t really make a connection. He’s just a man in a photograph.”
“That’s your fault. You could do more so Madison and Becca don’t forget who he is. It’s your responsibility as my son’s wife.”
Grace closed her eyes and rested her forehead in her hand, speaking patiently. “Marjorie, look. I’m raising my children, and I know very well what they need to know. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve sat them down to tell them all about Benson. I tell them stories about how he and I met, about Benson asking me to marry him and about what he did when each of them was born. They’re just stories to the kids right now.
“One day about a year ago, Becca comes home after preschool and asks me, what’s a daddy? She was having trouble with the concept, let alone attaching it to Benson. Now she knows that he’s died and gone away, but that means nothing to her because she never knew him to begin with. I don’t think I can force a memory that’s not there.”
“That’s all the more reason why I think you need to mark that day. It’s time she learned about him.”
Grace looked at the time. “Look, I’m sorry to cut you off, but we can finish this later. I have to go. I promise I’ll think about it, but I’m not fond of the idea.”
There was only silence for a moment before Marjorie finally responded.
“Have they met Carter?”
“Yes, they have. I told you he was coming out on Saturday. Don’t forget, Carter is Madison’s godfather. So why would I deny him a chance to see the children? They like him. You’ll be pleased to know that Carter told Madison a lot about what a good athlete Benson was, and how they became good friends.”
“That was nice of him,” Marjorie said grudgingly. “I still feel—”
“I know how you feel. I get it. If it’s not too late this evening, I’ll call you after the children are asleep.”
“Don’t forget that I go to bed myself at ten,” Marjorie said and hung up.
Grace replaced the phone, but instead of feeling angry at her mother-in-law’s imperious attitude, she felt consumed by guilt.
She had no desire to visit Benson’s grave, and even less interest in dragging her children out to stand over a granite marker in the ground with his name carved on it. She was not interested in playing the grieving widow, or in pretending that his death was an unbearable loss. Benson’s death had been hard at first for reasons that neither Marjorie nor anyone else could ever understand. But there was no point in revisiting the past.
Shame at her thoughts forced Grace out of her chair. She snatched up her folder of notes and headed out the office toward the meeting in a nearby conference room. She’d gotten as far as the office door when her phone rang again. She wavered between taking the call and leaving it to her answering machine. She looked at the time again. There was still five minutes to spare. She had been expecting a call.
But it was her father on the line.
“Hey, baby. Am I interrupting something?”
“Hi, Daddy. As a matter of fact, I’m about to go into a meeting. Is this important?”
“Yeah, but not urgent. It can wait. Am I going to see you and the children anytime soon?”
“Do you want to come over for dinner this weekend? Madison has some new chess moves, and he wants to try them out on you.”
Ward Mathison laughed in his booming voice. “Tell him to bring it on. Who’s he been playing with?”
“Carter Morrison. You remember him, right? He spent the day with us last weekend.”
“Carter Morrison,” Ward murmured. “Is that right?”
“Madison and Becca really took to him.”
“How ’bout yourself? What do you think of the man?”
“Did you want to talk to me about anything in particular?” Grace asked, ignoring her father’s question.
“Nothing that can’t wait ’til I see you. But some time soon, okay?”
“Now you’ve got me curious.”
He chuckled. “Now you’ll have to wait. Bye, baby. Call me when you can.”
This time Grace actually made it through the office door into the corridor when the phone rang again. This time she ignored it and went to her meeting. An hour later she was back in her office, listening to her voice messages, including one from Carter. He was just getting to his reason for calling when a staffer stopped by her office, knocked gently on the door, and announced that there was someone waiting to see her at the entrance. Carter’s voice message made it clear that he was on his way to her office and was going to take her to lunch.
Grace sat for a moment, processing the unexpected visit, analyzing the past and present, and speculating on the future. The very first thought that came to her was the lingering impression of Carter’s good-night kiss. In truth, it could hardly be called a kiss. But she still remembered it. She wondered at the wisdom of encouraging a relationship with Carter, even for the sake of Madison, for whom, she admitted, she couldn’t have picked a better role model. But Carter was part of the past as well, and she wanted to be done with that. At least, she kept telling herself that.
He was in conversation with the security guard when she arrived at the entrance. As she approached, Grace noticed that he was dressed less casually than when he visited the weekend before but was definitely dressed down from business attire. He was wearing a winter overcoat, and a long chenille scarf was wound rakishly around his neck. At his side was a packed folding garment bag made of black leather, with numerous pockets and straps. He looked so worldly. He seemed so together. He was so...
“Hi,” Grace said, drawing his attention.
“Hi, yourself. I was hoping you’d be free. Sorry I couldn’t give you more warning about getting together. I’m leaving a day early for Chicago.”
“It’s a busy day, but I can do lunch.”
“My treat,” Carter said, lifting his bag and walking with her out to the street.
“You better believe it,” she responded tartly, making him laugh. “Where would you like to go?”
“Downtown,” he said, walking to