He readily admitted that he hadn’t been the father he should have been when his kids were young. He hadn’t been there for them as Kate had been for hers. He had relied on his wife for that. He had been building his political career then, and his marriage had gotten stressful early on. He’d had numerous infidelities when he was on the road for campaigns. His constant absences took a toll on his relationship with his kids, two sons and two daughters, all of whom clearly remembered the important times he hadn’t been there for them or their mother, and they never missed a chance to remind him of it. As he always said to Kate, you can’t un-ring a bell. It was too late now. All four had married and had young children of their own. Two lived in Boston, one in L.A., and the fourth one in Hong Kong. He invited them skiing for a weekend occasionally, but he didn’t see them often, unlike Kate whose three children lived in New York. She saw them regularly.
He had met Kate’s mother a few times, liked her enormously, and thought she was a remarkable woman, candid, intelligent, who had impressive insights into people. She was a lively, interesting woman and he had enjoyed their infrequent contacts. He liked Kate’s children too though he rarely saw them. When she and Bart were together, she focused on him, and he liked that too. He thought she had been luckier than he was with his children, which he also knew wasn’t an accident. She had spent a great deal of time with her kids, and was devoted to them, in spite of her career. He thought she was even a little too involved with them now at their ages, and that she continued to expect too much from them, though they had never let her down. One of his sons had struggled with drugs when he was younger, two were divorced, and his youngest daughter suffered from depression. But he felt it was too late for him to take an active role in their lives now. The die was cast, and they were closer to their mother than to him. Kate encouraged him to spend more time with them, but the opportunities to do so now were rare, and he was never at ease with them. He preferred spending time with her.
She was pleased that he was coming to New York for the weekend. They had no special plans, and they both loved spring in New York. In winter, they often hibernated in her apartment, and wouldn’t go out for two or three days. This time, they were going to walk in the park, relax at home, and would have time to catch up on each other’s activities. They texted and spoke several times a week, checked in with each other on FaceTime, which they both enjoyed. It helped maintain the link between them, even though they were busy in their own lives.
She made him a martini just the way he liked it, as soon as he came through the door. She was wearing jeans and a white sweater, little Chanel ballet flats, and looked almost as young as her daughters. Bart loved her looks, and it always excited him to see her. Their sexual rapport was great. He liked everything about her. He was a tall, handsome man, with a very masculine craggy face, graying hair, lively blue eyes, and a cleft chin. She thought he looked like one of the old-time movie stars, Gregory Peck or Gary Cooper. There was something very sexy about him, and he smiled gratefully as he took the martini, and stretched out his long legs, as they sat down in her living room. He knew generally what she’d been doing lately, but not the details, and she filled him in.
“Claire has a new romance,” she said after they’d covered the latest political news of the week.
“That’s not an unusual occurrence for her, is it?” he teased her, with mischief and a warm look in his eyes. He knew of her kids’ activities and foibles better than he knew them. He was aware of how pleased she was about Anthony’s impending marriage, Tammy’s latest promotion in the hierarchy at Chanel, Claire’s job as a fledgling lawyer, and her tendency to change boyfriends every few weeks.
“She’s involved with a big fish this time, a client of the law firm where she works,” she said,