step forward into them. Their embrace was loose, brief, not at all romantic but familiar. She patted his shoulder, like she often did with her children when they needed comforting. Carter glided his hand back and forth across her back before they stepped apart.
Again memories of the past came back to Grace, and she felt a brief but heavy sense of guilt. She inhaled the cold air to shake it off.
“I’ll see you Saturday,” he said, returning to his car.
“Good night, Carter. Drive safe.”
“Oh, by the way,” he said, about to climb back into the driver’s seat. “I really like your hair cut short that way. It’s very becoming.”
Grace didn’t respond to the compliment. Benson had liked her hair long, but it was more work that way. Cutting her hair had been one of the first things she’d done once things had settled down after Benson’s death. The new grown-up style was her declaration of independence and break from the past. She saw no point in looking back. She tried to remember that as Carter turned over his car engine.
She turned to unlock her door as he reversed the town car into the street and drove away.
Chapter 2
“Madison, put that book away, and go get your coat. We’re going to be late. Becca, honey, you don’t need any more raisins in your cereal. Eat one more spoonful, and then we have to go,” Grace said firmly to her children, who seemed inclined to dawdle.
“Oh, Grace, do stop fussing at them. You’ll make them nervous,” Marjorie Haley complained in her own maternal nagging tone.
“I asked you to please have them ready by the time I arrived. I have a train to catch,” Grace said, trying not to sound annoyed.
She was standing at the kitchen counter in the home of her mother-in-law, checking her son’s knapsack to make sure all of his school things were inside. She then approached her daughter, removing the nearly empty cereal bowl and instructing her to find her boots and put them on. Marjorie, a pleasant looking late-fiftysomething woman of average height but slightly overweight, was meticulously packing a lunch for each of the kids, which she then put into each of the children’s schoolbags.
“I told you I could take them to school myself, but you kept telling me you want to do it. I think you get the children all mixed up.”
Grace decided not to point out to Marjorie that she was hardly ready to drive Madison and Becca to school since she was still in her bathrobe and nursing a cup of coffee. The only thing already in place was Marjorie’s fashionable wig, one of several she owned in different styles. Instead of arguing, Grace placed Madison’s schoolbag by the front door of the house and bent over to help Becca as the child tried stuffing her tiny foot into her boot.
“I can do it,” Becca told her mother, sitting on the floor to make it easier to pull the boot on.
Grace glanced over to Marjorie. “I know it would have been easier, even made sense. But I wanted to see my kids before they went to school this morning.”
“Do you have to work late again tonight?”
“No, but I don’t like going such a long time without seeing them.”
“I suppose that means you don’t think I know how to take care of my own grandchildren.”
“That’s not what I mean, and that’s not what I said,” Grace corrected calmly. She was holding Becca’s pink parka to help her into it.
“I want to remind you that after my divorce, I raised a son alone. He turned out good enough to attend Harvard. You found him good enough to marry.”
“Mommy, Nana Marj said that if me and Becca come to stay with her, she’s going to take us to see Monsters, Inc., an ice show.”
“When is this?” Grace asked, grateful to Madison for the distraction.
“It’s performing for the next two weeks, but I thought maybe this Saturday,” Marjorie said. “The kids can stay with me for the weekend.”
“Can we?” Madison asked.
“Did you forget we have plans for Saturday?” Grace asked. Madison groaned dramatically, his face scrunched up as he recognized the conflict.
“I wanna go ice-skating,” Becca piped up, not to be left out.
“Can we go with Nana on Sunday?” Madison negotiated.
“We’ll talk about it tonight. Right now, we have to go. Do you have everything?”
“What’s going on on Saturday?” Marjorie asked as she walked Grace and her grandchildren to the door.
“Madison, take Becca and get in the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“I thought you said we have to hurry?” Madison protested.
Grace sighed and sent Madison a silent, telling look. Taking the warning to heart, he went to his grandmother, arms outstretched for a perfunctory hug.
“Bye, Nana.”
“Have a good day in school, sweetheart. Come on, Dumplin’. Give Nana a kiss,” Marjorie cooed, bending over to scoop Becca into her arms.
Becca returned the affection but quickly pulled away to run after her brother. “Wait for me!” she whined, dragging her red, blue and yellow schoolbag by a strap, her bright knit hat askew over the four thick cornrows of her slightly curly hair.
“I’ll call you later,” Grace said to her mother-in-law, heading for the door.
“Grace, you can spare five minutes to tell me why I can’t see my grandkids this weekend,” Marjorie complained.
“You make it sound as if I deliberately keep them from you,” Grace said carefully. “You had them for a full weekend two weeks ago. I told you we already have a lot to do. Madison is going to a sleepover on Friday night. Then he, Becca and I are going skating. They’ve been looking forward to that.”
“Then bring them to me in the evening. They can stay until Monday.”
Grace shook her head patiently. “Not this weekend. It’s too much running around for them and me. I do enough of that during the week. Besides, Carter Morrison is in town. He asked to see the kids, and I invited him out for the day,” she finished casually.
“Carter Morrison?” Marjorie repeated. “What’s he doing in New York?”
Graced stared at her, taken aback by Marjorie’s scathing question. “He’s here on business. He happened to attend the corporate event I worked last night. As a matter of fact, he’s gotten some sort of promotion and will probably leave Chicago.”
“Oh, really? I suppose he’s moving here?”
“Why do you say it that way? I thought you liked Carter. I mean, he’s...was Benson’s best friend.”
“Was is right. Carter may be smart and good-looking, but he always thought he was better than my son.
