and bell. Friends were a part of all that. It was going to be important that they like at least some of the same people. And in time, her kids. She wanted Gray to meet them too. She knew he was uneasy about that. He had said as much to her. She knew that was the easy part. Her kids were great, and she was sure he would love them too. All Emily and Gilbert wanted was for her to be happy. If they saw that he was kind to her, and they loved each other, then Gray would be welcomed into the family. She knew her kids.
They still had a long way to go, but they were on their way. Some of the hurdles ahead still frightened her, and she wasn't ready for them yet, and neither was he. But she knew that telling Adam and Charlie was a big one for him. She had no idea how they'd react to the news that she and Gray were as serious as they were. She hoped that Charlie wouldn't discourage him, or frighten him about her kids. She knew that that was Gray's one big Achilles' heel. He was phobic about kids, not only about having his own but about relating to someone else's. It didn't seem to matter to him that hers were adults and no longer children. He was panicked about getting attached to anyone to that degree. For a man who had spent a lifetime nurturing some of the most dysfunctional women on the planet, the one thing that terrified him was meeting, dealing with, or relating to their kids. To Sylvia, it appeared to be a completely irrational fear. But to Gray, it was real.
Gray helped her clean up the breakfast dishes, and he left for the studio first. She had some calls to make before she left for work. She wanted to call Emily and Gilbert. With the time difference, it was usually too late to call them when she got home from work. She hadn't said anything to them about Gray yet. Neither of them was coming home till Christmas. Sylvia thought there was plenty of time between now and then, three months in fact, to see how things were going with Gray, before she said anything to them. Both were out when she called that day, and she left loving messages on their answering machines. She stayed in close touch with her kids.
By the time Sylvia left for the gallery that day, Gray was already at the Yacht Club with Charlie. They were seated at his favorite table. It was an enormous elegant dining room, with vaulted ceilings, portraits of previous commodores, and ship models under glass around the room. Gray thought Charlie looked terrific, tan, fit, and rested.
“So how was the end of the trip?” Gray asked conversationally, after they both ordered chef's salads.
“It was fine. We didn't really go anywhere after you left. I had work to do, and the crew started doing some repairs. It was just nice to be on the boat, instead of here in the apartment.” He had been finding it lonely and depressing of late, and he was feeling restless. “So tell me about the gallery you signed with. Wechsler-Hinkley, isn't it?” It was an impressive name in the art world. “How did that happen? Did they just find you?” Charlie was happy for him. No one deserved it more than Gray. He had an enormous talent. “Or did you find them?” Charlie was smiling broadly in anticipation of the story.
“Actually, a friend gave me an introduction,” he said cautiously. Sylvia had made him nervous about Charlie's reaction, which he knew was silly. But now he felt anxious, and he looked it.
“What kind of friend?” Charlie asked with interest. He didn't know what or why, but there was something smoky about the story.
“A friend friend …you know… actually…a woman,” Gray said, feeling like a schoolboy reporting to his father.
“Now there's a twist,” Charlie said, looking amused. “What kind of woman? Do I know her? Is there a new wounded bird in your nest these days? One who works at a gallery, with good connections? If so, how clever of you,” Charlie praised him. But it wasn't what he thought. Gray wasn't dating some secretary who had asked her boss to see him. There was no wounded bird in Gray's nest, but rather a dynamo who had taken him under her wing, and flown like an eagle.
“Actually,