Rick checked the time on his watch as waited for the glowing stickman giving him and about seventy other hurried souls permission to cross Seventh Avenue. He rarely came to this part of town, unless he was attending an event or the theater, but he was on a mission. He had to set the record straight. He walked along Fortieth Street toward Bryant Park and turned south on Sixth. He walked to a coffee shop on West thirty-eighth. He had a meeting.
Rick Castle was not a reticent man, well not in most situations. Okay, select situations that included a certain NYPD detective, he was a bit timid. Kate wasn't here today, but he had her blessings for this meeting. He peered through the coffee shop window and smiled. She had a way of dwarfing anyone and anything around her. She was vibrant and vital, always making conversation and dazzling her companions with her theatrics and charm.
He loved his mother. He really did, but sometimes he took her or left her, as if he couldn't count on her. She hadn't always been there but, she would be if he really needed her. He would never doubt that. She made sure there was someone he could turn to, if needed, an unemployed actress friend or the librarian would be paid or bribed to keep an eye on Richard, but that didn't mean he wasn't alone. Her frequent absences gave rise to his habit of people watching. He would be left on his own at the park, in the library, at the back of the theater or on some type of public transportation and he observed people. It was where the stories came from.
Growing up in the shadow of Martha Rodgers had been an adventure and uncertain. She was fun and not much of a disciplinarian. Rick pretty much had the run of the place, or places. They moved around a lot when he was a kid. It had to do with where, when and if work was available. He had never minded that either. It was just the way they lived. Wherever it was, she made it home. Sometimes, home was her dressing room, sometimes a hotel room. She made sure he got a top flight education, even if she really couldn't afford it. He would always be grateful for her sacrifices.
He steeled himself with a cleansing inhalation, breathing in the spring scents of budding lilies and daffodils blooming in the planters outside of the café. He opened the door and at the sound of the clanging bells, she turned, spotted him and smiled her "I'm here for the cameras' smile. It was a stunning smile, but not genuine. It was the one for the masses, not her son. He sighed.
He draped his overcoat on the empty chair as he said, "Hello Mother, you look lovely." He bent down and kissed her cheek.
"Oh Richard! Isn't the day just fabulous?" She raised her arms and indicated the green and sunshine outside.
He chuckled, but didn't comment on her dramatic opening. Long experience had taught him that it was better to have the driving control of their conversations.
"Have you ordered?" He asked. His tone was subdued and quiet. It was a technique he used to tamp the over exuberance of Martha.
"No, not yet," she matched his tone. He was gratified to see his method working the way he wanted it to. "I figured I'd wait for you."
He smiled knowingly. "I asked to see you Mother; I'm going to pay anyway."
"Well kiddo, you can afford it." She quipped. She was right, he could afford it. It was a trick of fate. Sometimes he thought that that cheeky little bastard had only made him successful so he could support his mother. He wasn't resentful, just happy to be able to take care of her.
"Right," he answered and raised his hand for the waiter. He ordered a vanilla latte for himself. Not his usual order, but he felt the need to channel Beckett when he actually began the conversation. His mother ordered and they chatted about the weather, politics and Alexis. Dancing around the heavy mired topics they had both carefully avoided his whole life.
"Mother, I need to talk to you."
"Well that's what we're doing, aren't we?" She looked directly at him. He could see her trying to read him.
"Pleasantries."
"So what do you need to talk about that isn't pleasant?"
He smiled again. She cut to the heart of it. He clenched his jaw muscles and studied the floral pattern of the cloth napkins before bringing his eyes to hers. "I want you to know that I appreciate everything you're doing and have done for me," he began.
"Oh my," she commented, her widening eyes betraying her uncertainty briefly before she regained her composure.
He smiled and reached across the table for her hand. He noticed as he rubbed his thumb across her hand that her skin was a little more papery, a little more dotted with brown spots, a little older. "It's not that serious. I just want to make sure that you know that I will never think of you as just a guest at my wedding or in my life."
"Oh Richard…" she said as she squeezed his hand.
He held up a palm. "Let me finish, Mother." He looked down briefly and then back up into her expectant eyes. "I've had two weddings before." She raised an eyebrow that he ignored. "I've had the quick J.P. ceremony and the," he closed his eyes and sighed as he remembered the spectacle that Gina produced, "unbelievably over the top exhibition. This time is different. I'm marrying Kate because I love her and I can't imagine my life without her in it. It's not out of a sense of duty or chivalry and it's not because of a misguided attempt to provide completeness for Alexis. It's for me and Kate." He took a breath.
"But given your status…"
"It means nothing." He shook his head dismissing her statement. She stared at him. "Everything that I may have accomplished before I met her, everything that I said, did or wrote came from a different version of me. One that I can't say I'm particularly proud of."
"Richard, you're a good man. You've always been a…"
"Mother," he paused, "I appreciate you unqualified approval of me and my past, but if you really take a good look, without the filter of being my mother, you'd realize that I have not always been a good man. Sure, I could put on a good performance. I think we both know where I get that talent." He winked at her and grinned. "But, Mother, deep down, I was a mess. I think you recognize that too." She nodded, but remained silent. "I don't want to dwell on that other guy. He hasn't made an appearance for a while now. Kate has seen to that. I'm a better version of me because of her. I want to explain to you why I need this ceremony to be," he paused searching for the right word, "hallowed and intimate."
She raised her eyebrow in surprise. Her son had always loved the bright lights and attention that he'd received as a best-selling author. "Richard, I'd hardly call a ceremony with as many guests as you're planning, to be in any way intimate."
"See? That's what I'm trying to tell you. It doesn't matter how many people are there because of our obligations. What matters is the feel of the whole day for Kate and me. We want it as small and elegant as possible. We want it to be about celebrating us, but not celebrating us for the world." Martha became very interested in the linens. "God," he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm saying this all wrong. You'd think after all this time I'd be able to utilize words to my advantage." He sighed again. "Mother, we'd like your help, but whatever grand scheme you come up with, I want you to consider the complete opposite. I want you to think about what I've said and apply the new rules to your proposals."
"But…"
"And," he held up his finger, "I'm asking you not to take our decisions personally or react defensively. Kate and I have been through enough drama just getting to this point. We deserve a little respite, don't you think?"
She lowered her gaze and he could tell she was considering all he'd said. She nodded and squeezed his hand. "Oh darling you know I love you?"
He nodded, "Yes, Mother."
"And you know I'd never do anything to hurt you or Katherine on purpose, right?"
He tilted his head and drew the corners of his lips into a small smile. "Of course."
"Of course I'll do whatever you want." She lifted her hand and ran her fingers down his jawline.
"Excuse me? Mr. Castle?" Rick turned his eyes to two young ladies standing shyly and awkwardly a few feet from their table.
He smiled. "Hi," he answered in his media voice, deeper which accompanied his megawatt smile.
"Oh my god, I told you it was him. Can we get a picture and an autograph?"
Martha stopped listening to the interlopers at that point. She understood. Anything for the fans. It had been a good long while since she'd had to deal with anything like this. It was a daily occurrence for Richard, but he was always gracious to the people interrupting his lunch or work. She had indeed noticed the change in him. He had grown in the last few years. He still loved his games and toys, but now he was more childlike than childish. He wore the difference well. Her breath caught as she regarded her fully grown son. A man any mother would be proud of.