a parking spot stories below the city.
He gave her a smile and turned off the ignition. “You tell me once we’re there.”
She swung open her door, and he met her as she stepped out. As they passed the trunk, he lifted the lid and pulled out two seat cushions with handles, and a car blanket.
“This won’t keep us warm, but it might help.”
His thoughtfulness impressed her, but she teased him anyway. “You forgot the thermos.”
“I told you I’d do better than that. Remember?”
He’d piqued her curiosity. She waited with him for the elevator to street level, and when they saw daylight, she realized they were at the front of the parade. The wind struck them as they exited, and she tugged on her gloves, then adjusted her scarf, wishing she’d worn a cap.
Benjamin motioned her to follow and they struggled through the crowd along the sidewalk. She wondered how they would see anything with such a bustle of humanity.
To her surprise, Benjamin reached a roped-off area near the grandstands and handed passes to a ticket-taker.
“Grandstand seats?” she asked, amazed he had such pull.
He gave her a wink. “I told you.”
She gazed in delight at the bleacher seating that would raise them above the crowd for a full view. As she headed up, her focus settled on the stage where Santa would speak with the children. Santa. Her heart gave a kick as her thoughts flew to Mandy. She’d never had a real kid’s chance to enjoy the bounty of Santa’s gift bag.
But Joanne had told her little daughter about Jesus. Joanne had sung her children’s hymns and told her stories about the Savior. Joanne had always been confident that Mandy was in heaven—
Her thoughts stumbled. No. Joanne didn’t know that for sure anymore—not since the voice. She tugged her heavy coat around her more tightly.
Benjamin gave her a questioning look, and she realized she’d fallen silent. “I was thinking,” she said without any more explanation.
Benjamin seemed to understand. The Thanksgiving parade was for children more than adults. It was natural her thoughts would be of Mandy. Filled with a sudden melancholy she climbed the stairs.
When they’d found a good spot about halfway up, Benjamin dropped their gear and glanced at his watch. “Let’s leave the blanket and cushions here to hold our spots. We have time to go inside.”
“Inside what?” She didn’t let him answer because she had another question. “How did we get grandstand seats?”
“I know people.” He grinned.
“So do I, but I guess it’s who you know.”
He put his hand on her back as they descended to the ground again. “I have a client who’s a sponsor. He gets sets of tickets and can use them as he wants.”
“And you’re one of the recipients,” she said over her shoulder.
He chuckled. “Along with the real bonus we’re about to enjoy.” He motioned for her toward the Detroit Institute of Arts sidewalk.
“We’re going to an art show?”
“No, but they have free coffee and muffins inside. We can come into the building to get warm and to use the rest room. Plus it’s much nicer than standing on the street, craning our necks.”
“I won’t argue that,” she said.
They ascended the broad stairway into the museum and warmth greeted Joanne when she stepped inside. The scent of fragrant coffee filled the air and a bounty of pastries were spread out for the guests. Benjamin guided her forward, and after they’d filled their cups and grabbed a pastry, he pointed her toward a table for two.
She set down her cup and shifted a chair. Before sitting, she slipped off her gloves and loosened her scarf and coat. She took a sip of the warm drink. “Yummy. This makes up for having to get ready so early.”
He grinned and took a bite of a Danish pastry, then followed it with a swig of coffee. His eyes smiled, and she couldn’t help but smile back. Today Benjamin, the respected attorney, had become a child. His cheeks glowed from the cold wind or, even more, his excitement being here.
Outside, her heart had melted when he’d pointed to the children’s gleeful faces as they waited for the parade. Little tots bundled up in outerwear doubling their size—boots, snowpants, jackets, caps, mittens, and scarves wound around their noses.
“You like kids,” she said.
“I do. Very much.”
The question she’d longed to ask made its way to her lips. “Why haven’t you married, Benjamin? You’d make a wonderful father.”
The glow in his cheeks deepened, and Joanne realized she’d asked a sensitive question. She held her breath, fearing she’d put a damper on their morning.
After a moment he gave her a crooked grin. “You’ve never asked that before.”
Her pulse skipped. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of it until recently, and then I figured it was none of my business.”
He chuckled. “But it is today?”
“My business?” she asked, catching his little dig. “Not really, but we’re friends, so I’m asking.”
“Fair enough.”
She waited, but he seemed to drift away in thought. Finally he looked her in the eyes. “I fell in love once, and since that time no other woman could compare.”
The candid statement answered her question, but again she couldn’t stop herself. “Did she die?”
He lowered his gaze and shook his head. “No. It was one of those impossible things.”
His face looked strained, and she knew she should stop. “She didn’t love you?”
“She did, I think, but not the kind of love I wanted.” He lifted his cup and drained it. “Are you ready? We don’t want to miss the parade.”
Joanne looked down at her barely nibbled pastry and realized she’d forgotten to eat. “Sure,” she said, taking another sip of coffee before rising.
Benjamin didn’t say anymore, and Joanne realized she’d asked too much.
By the time they climbed back into the stands, the bleachers were filled. As a marching band blared on the street, they settled onto the planks. A cold wind swirled upward beneath their feet and Joanne adjusted the seat cushion while Benjamin tucked the blanket around their legs.
Drifting above their heads was a huge helium elephant balloon, tethered to the ground by a host of volunteer clowns who tugged on the lines to keep it from flying away. Children clapped their hands and the crowd roared in her ears.
“Remember when the penguin balloon,
