Valentine's Dream: Love Changes Everything / Sweet Sensation / Made in Heaven

“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 the curb, where the town car was again double-parked.

“Downtown? Why? There are plenty of good places a few blocks from here.”

“I want to show you something first. It won’t take long, and then we can find a place.” He opened the passenger door and held it for her.

Grace didn’t move. She was puzzled and more than a little suspicious. “What’s going on?’

“Remember I told you about viewing some apartments? I want your advice. Are you with me?”

She slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.”

During the ride, Carter told her about the apartments that had been arranged for him to see in Battery Park City, an enclave several blocks away from the site of the former World Trade Center towers. Grace listened as he tried to describe the area, but she confessed that she didn’t know anything about that part of Lower Manhattan. She was surprised that he would consider living there but flattered that he cared about what she thought. Grace also felt a rising apprehension that Carter’s move to New York was becoming real. He’d be able to spend time with Madison. That meant spending time with her.

For all the new construction and the contemporary sleekness of the high-rise buildings, the manufactured parks and promenades, and upscale shops and restaurants in Battery Park City, Grace found the setting sterile and artificial. Carter parked behind one such rectangular high-rise and led her through a maze of security procedures. Before they’d even boarded the elevator, Grace hated every inch of what she’d seen so far. This was a place for men and women whose lives were ruled by work and the clock. It was a residence, but not a home. It was fine for singles and couples, but terrible for a family.

As Carter led the way into one of the apartments on his list, on a floor high enough to induce a nosebleed, Grace couldn’t help but wonder if this was really the way he wanted to live. The rooms were rather small, except for the master bedroom, which had a walk-in closet, a large dressing room area, a Jacuzzi in the bathroom and heating racks for towels. One wall of the bedroom was almost entirely glass and overlooked the Hudson River and the undistinguished shoreline of New Jersey on the other side. She watched Carter’s broad shoulders and his erect posture as he stared silently out the window.

“There isn’t much room for... Do you expect to get married some day? Do you see yourself having kids?” she asked carefully, not sure if she was crossing the line of “too personal.”