Quick update for you :)

"Do you think I need to look into getting some help for the kids?"

Mary looked up from the magazine she was flipping through, "What sort of help?"

"I'm not sure," Ben replied. "Counselling maybe? They've both been through a lot over the last year what with their mother and moving to the city and Evelyn leaving...I don't know maybe it would help them to talk to somebody."

"Is this because of what Pamela said to you?"

He paused and looked down the sand to where he could see Pamela and Peter playing together at the shore of Lake St Clair. They were tossing water at each other, laughing, joking and generally bickering over who had built the best sandcastle. "I suppose."

Pamela had barely spoken over breakfast that morning, only to brighten up when he had suggested that they spend the day at the beach given the good weather. Mary had taken the car to the repair shop, despite his protestations that he would do it for her, and had returned with a quote for a hundred dollars and a promise that it could be fixed the following day. In light of the news he had been poised to call Hannah and tell her, but something had stopped him and he wasn't sure exactly what.

"Have they said they want to talk to anyone?"

"No," he admitted. "But perhaps they wouldn't. They are only kids after all."

"Well," Mary stretched back in her deckchair, "I suppose all you can do is suggest it to them. Are you annoyed at what Pamela said?"

"Yes, a bit. For a start, I wasn't looking at Hannah in any way inappropriately..."

"It's Hannah, is it?"

He paused and looked over at her. Her eyes were hidden behind her sunglasses but there was a faint hint of a smile playing around the corner of her mouth. "Would you rather I referred to her as Ms Woods?" Mary shrugged good-naturedly. "Besides, I don't think it was that which bothered her so much as it is how she perceives I'm lying to Evelyn."

"Do you think you're lying to her?"

"No. I can be her friend and still love her, can't I?"

"So long as you can still separate the two."

"You were the one who told me that I needed to let her do this! You were the one who said that her deciding to take a step back would be a good thing for me!"

"I know I did and I still think that." She took off her sunglasses and leaned forwards. "But I also think that you don't need to live the life of a monk just because Evelyn's made that decision." She raised her eyebrows.

"For heaven's sake mother..." he muttered as the kids came pounding up the beach towards them and flung themselves down on their towels. "Having fun?"

"It's almost as good as Florida was," Pamela said, breathing heavily.

"When can we try the jet skis?" Peter asked, pointing further down the beach to where a dozen or so were bobbing next to a long stretch of boardwalk that jutted out into the lake.

"Before we go back to the house," Ben replied. "It's almost lunchtime and I don't think it's advisable to go out on one on a full stomach."

"Bleurgh," Pamela made a face. "I bet Peter would puke everywhere."

"I would not!" he replied indignantly. "What's for lunch anyway?"

Mary unpacked the picnic that she had made that morning and they tucked into sandwiches, chocolate cookies, chips and cold soda. Hardly the healthiest of meals but as she had said, they were on vacation after all.

"I wish we could just stay here," Pamela said wistfully, wiping her mouth. "Why aren't there any beaches in the city?"

"There are," Ben replied, "Well, at least one that I can think of over at Pelham Bay."

"That's miles away," she moaned. "It's not the same."

"Come on," Peter got to his feet. "I'll race you back down to the water."

Ben watched as the two of them sped away, pushing each other in their quest to be there first and then falling over into the water screaming and laughing.

"You know...it might not be a bad idea," Mary mused.

"What might not be a bad idea?"

"Staying here."

"Mom, come on..." he turned to face her. "We live in New York, remember? I can't uproot the kids again and I've got this new job at Columbia, not to mention the fact that Laura would never agree."

"I wasn't talking about moving here permanently," she replied. "But how many more weeks of vacation do the kids have?"

"Three after this week."

"Well...why not stay a little longer? It's not as if I'm needing the space back and the kids seem to be enjoying it. You'd be able to change the tickets quite easily."

"I can't," he shook his head. "Laura would miss out on some of her time with them and she wouldn't be happy about that. Besides, they have another week of summer camp before school starts up again."

"You don't have to stay for the full three weeks. Even just one more week might be beneficial for all of you." Mary paused. "You don't have to give me an answer right now. Think about it. There's no rush. It was only an idea."

She opened her magazine again, giving him a natural way out of the conversation. He sat back in his chair letting the sun warm his face and closed his eyes. Maybe it would be good to stay another week. There was more to entertain the kids here than there would be at home and he had to admit he was enjoying being away somewhere different.

Home, even if it had been so long since he had called it that.

XXXX

"Well I'm...I'm not quite sure what we're supposed to say to each other."

Evelyn took a breath and closed her eyes. She had been dreading the phone call, in an entirely different way from how she had been dreading Ben's call. Then she had been anxious, nervous about how he might react or what he might say. But this dread...it had almost been enough to make her tell the staff that she didn't want to make the call at all.

Emma had convinced her that opening some sort of honest dialogue with her mother was a positive step forward but, in all honesty, she wasn't convinced and from the tone of her mother's opening gambit, she knew it wasn't going to be easy.

"I suppose we could start with how are you?" she said finally.

"I'm alright, I suppose," Susan replied. "Concerned about you, naturally."

"Naturally."

"I honestly thought that Sarah was joking when she called to tell me that you were...there. I mean, I had no idea. I thought you were having fun in London. I thought that you were making friends and building a new life. I suppose I couldn't have really thought any different given that you never seemed to have time to call me." Susan paused. "Sarah said that it's an addiction clinic?"

"That's right," Evelyn said calmly. "But they also deal with post traumatic stress disorder."

"And is that what you have?"

"Yes and I was using alcohol to help deal with it."

"Oh. What are they saying caused it?"

Evelyn closed her eyes again, practicing the deep breathing techniques that Emma had shown her, and willing herself to remain as calm as possible. "It's been caused by all the trauma I've suffered Mom. Eddie abusing me, being shot, losing the baby..."

"I see. So you think that they can help you?"

"They're already helping me. I'm a lot better than I was when I arrived here."

"Yes, Sarah told me that Ben went over to London to get you. That was very good of him."

"Yes it was."

There was an elongated silence. She wanted to tell her mother what she thought about her, what she really thought about her but Emma had cautioned her to keep the first contact straightforward and dispassionate. There would be time for deeper confrontations later on when she was stronger.

"How long will you be staying?"

"Didn't they tell you that when you called?"

"Well, yes but..."

"Eight weeks. I'm almost halfway there so another four to go."

"I see. And where are you planning to stay once you're...released?"

"Not with you, don't worry."

"That wasn't..."

"I'm going to get an apartment. Ben said that he would help me find one."

"Oh, so you're not going to stay with him?"

"No."

"I see." Evelyn closed her eyes again, wishing she would pick another phrase other than I see. "Well I...like I said, I don't really know what to say. I hope that you get better soon."

"Thank you and thanks for taking my call."

"Well I wouldn't not, would I? I'm your mother."

"Yes. Yes you are."

"I suppose I should go then. They said I can call every week now that you've called me so...I will."

"That would be nice."

"Alright then. Take care darling."

"You too."

She replaced the receiver slowly and let out a breath that she hadn't realised she had been holding. All those times she had spoken to Elizabeth...all those times she had intended taking her mother to therapy with her...all those times she had been able to find an excuse. There were no excuses anymore, there couldn't be. There were things that needed to be said, long overdue things that needed to be said. She knew her mother wasn't going to like it but, for her own sanity, she would need to say them.

It was about starting as she meant to go on.

There was no other way.

XXXX

By the time they got home from the lake, Peter and Pamela were happily exhausted, collapsing onto the couch and switching on the television whilst Mary busied herself in the kitchen preparing a light dinner. Ben had offered to help her but she had shooed him away so he had found himself in his father's study. Little had changed in all the years since he had died. His medical diploma was still displayed on the wall and the room was dotted with knick knacks that he had picked up on his travels. There were framed photographs on his desk of the family, including a fairly recent one of Peter and Pamela that he had sent to his mother, and he wondered what sort of desk he would have in his office at Columbia. He hoped there would be space for photographs.

Sitting down in his father's chair, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the business card Hannah had passed him the previous day. Given that they now had a quote for repairs, it was only fair to let her know what it was, but as he dialled her number, he couldn't help feeling a strange sense of trepidation.

She answered on the fifth ring, "Hello?"

"Hi," he heard himself say. "Is that Hannah?"

"Yes it is, who's this?"

"It's Ben. Ben Stone. We met in the parking lot at the museum yesterday."

"Oh gosh, yes of course!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry, I didn't recognise your voice. How are you?"

"Fine thanks, you?"

"Yes, fine."

"I was just calling because my mother had her car looked at today and it's going to cost a hundred dollars to fix the bumper."

"Oh that's not too bad," she said. "I was expecting it to be a lot more. Do you want to just do it between ourselves then rather than involving the insurance?"

"Sure," he agreed, "if that suits you. They said they can fix it tomorrow."

"Absolutely. Listen, why don't you give me the address of the repair shop and I can meet you down there?"

He paused, "Oh...uh, sure. If it's not too much trouble?"

"No it's fine. The kids are going to my mother's tomorrow so I won't have to worry about dragging them down there with me." She paused. "Maybe I could buy you a cup of coffee whilst it's getting fixed, you know, to say sorry."

"You don't have to do that..."

"No, I'd like to. It's an inconvenience for you after all."

Pamela's words from the previous evening rung in his ear. If she knew that he was planning to do anything other than simply meet Hannah and have her pay the repair bill he knew that she wouldn't be happy. But there was hardly anything sinister about having a cup of coffee with the woman.

"Ok," he said. "Does ten suit?"

"Perfect," she noted down the address. "I'll see you there."

He hung up the phone and sat staring at it for a long moment.

It's not a betrayal. You're just friends now. Besides, it's not as if you're going to sleep with her. It's a cup of coffee for Christ's sake.

He wandered back into the kitchen where Mary was dishing up cold meat salads for dinner and, automatically, he began setting the table. Minutes later, the kids came in, red-faced and sleepy eyed and dinner was a quiet affair with the two of them retreating to bed quickly thereafter. Once he had helped his mother clear up, he too excused himself and climbed the stairs to bed, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him as he sat down on the bed, the phone on the nightstand catching his eye.

It was too early to call. He'd only spoken to her four days earlier and the rules were quite strict. Besides, he wasn't sure what more they could say to each other at this point, apart from him regaling her with stories of their trip.

Now here's a question...he thought to himself as he undressed and slid under the summer duvet. If you did talk to her, would you tell her that you were going for coffee with Hannah tomorrow?

XXXX

It was a relatively short drive to the repair shop so, being on his own, Ben took the opportunity to take a detour through the old familiar neighbourhood, past his old school, the local library, the park...all the places he had frequented as a youngster. It was strange seeing them all again through fresh eyes. If he allowed his mind to wander, he could picture himself as a teenager again before all the responsibilities of adulthood, career, marriage and children and he couldn't help but wonder if he would do anything differently given the chance.

It was just before ten when he pulled into the repair shop and was greeted by John, the mechanic that his mother had mentioned he should speak to. With no hesitation he had taken the keys and driven the car inside leaving Ben standing out on the concourse just as Hannah drove in and parked beside him.

"Hi," she said, opening the door and stepping outside. "I hope you haven't been waiting too long?"

"No, I just got here," he replied. "They've just taken the car in. They said it should take about an hour or so."

"Great, let's go get that coffee." She gestured to the passenger seat and he got in, pulling on his seatbelt as she reversed and slid back out into the morning traffic. "I know a little place not far from here that does the best coffee in Detroit."

"That's a pretty big claim."

"I know," she laughed. "It probably isn't true but, hell, I like the coffee there so..." She paused at an intersection. "What's your daughter up to today then? Not dragging you back to the museum?"

"No," he said. "She and my son are spending the day with the neighbour's grandkids. Last I heard they were making up a picnic and heading off on their bikes."

"How old?"

"Sixteen and thirteen."

"Mine are thirteen, eight and five," Hannah said. "It can be hard to find something to entertain all three of them sometimes. My eldest gets frustrated with the little ones and half the time I find myself refereeing their arguments. So...do you live out here then?"

"Uh no, not any more. I grew up here but the kids and I live in New York now."

"Wow, bright lights big city?"

"Something like that. We're just out here on vacation visiting my mother."

"That's nice," Hannah paused. "Divorced?"

He laughed, "Is it that obvious?"

"Well you're not wearing a wedding ring," she glanced quickly at him. "Sorry, that was a really rude thing to say. I'm sure plenty of married men don't wear rings. My husband used to always say that I spoke first and thought later."

"You're divorced too?"

"Widowed. He died last year."

"Oh..." Ben paused. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's fine." She pulled up alongside a row of shops. "Here we go."

The coffee shop had a quaint interior. Wooden tables and chairs, homemade crafts adorning the shelves that lined the interior, bunting strung from the beams and a wonderful smell of coffee to boot.

"I guess it is a little twee," Hannah admitted as he looked around. "But I promise it's good coffee."

"I don't doubt you," he smiled as they picked a table and then ordered. It was busy for a Wednesday morning and he watched as several people came in, saw that there were no free tables and left again. "Do you come here a lot?"

"Sure, whenever I get the chance. It's not as much fun with three kids in tow, but when they're in school and I get a day off work I like to come and sit, read a book sometimes and just try to unwind a bit." She smiled. "I can't imagine that's the sort of thing that you would do though."

"It has been known. There are some nice coffee houses in New York."

"I've been once or twice with work, but never for any great length of time. I'm an editor, though I guess you worked that out from the card I gave you."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Absolutely. There's something very satisfying about it." She paused and thanked the waitress as their coffees were delivered to the table. "What about you? What do you do?"

He paused before answering. "I was an attorney, but I'm just about to start a new job lecturing at Columbia in the Fall."

"Oh, interesting," she nodded. "What kind of law did you practice?"

"I worked at the District Attorney's office," he said, the use of the past tense still causing a strange sensation in his stomach.

"Well I bet you saw a lot of things there."

"I did."

"What made you decide to go into lecturing?"

He paused again. Somehow telling her about how he had inadvertently got a witness killed didn't seem entirely appropriate for their level of acquaintance. "It was time to move on," he settled on, tasting the coffee and smiling at her. "You were right, it is good."

She smiled back, "Well I may be shit at driving, but I can definitely tell good coffee when I taste it."

The conversation flowed easily between them, though Ben found himself holding back on a lot of personal information. He talked about Laura and how they had been divorced for a long time and about how the kids had come to live with him, leaving out the specific details, but he deliberately made no mention of Evelyn. Not because she didn't matter, not because she wasn't part of his story, but because she did matter and because he couldn't help feeling a slight frisson of guilt as he found himself admiring the darkness of Hannah's eyes.

She in turn talked about her late husband, explaining that he had started experiencing severe stomach pains the previous summer and, after eventually attending the doctor, had been given the news that he had stage four bowel cancer and only a few months to live, finally passing away just before Thanksgiving. She shed no tears when she talked about him which, selfishly, he was grateful for but her expression took on a sad, faraway look and he almost, but not quite, found himself reaching out to touch her hand in sympathy.

"Gosh, look at the time!" she said suddenly glancing at her watch. "The repair shop are going to think you've just abandoned the car. We'd better get back. I told my mother I'd get the kids before lunch." The ride back was pleasant, Hannah talking about favourite spots that her kids liked to go to and how it might give him some ideas for the remainder of his trip. "Not that I should need to tell a native like you," she added.

"Any ideas are always welcome," he replied as they pulled back onto the forecourt and got out. Hannah went forward and spoke to John, pulling the money out of her pocket and handing it to him then stepping back whilst he went to write a receipt.

"Looks good as new," she observed. "I'm really sorry again."

"Don't be," he reassured her. "Accidents happen."

"Thank you for being so understanding. A lot of people wouldn't be."

John returned with the receipt and handed Ben the car keys. As he turned to go over to the drivers' door he suddenly paused and turned back, torn between whether to just get in and drive away or do something completely reckless instead.

"Can I buy you dinner sometime?" he heard himself say.

Hannah paused and looked at him, clearly unable to hide a look of surprise, "Uh..."

"No listen it's fine..."

"No, no that sounds nice," she said. "I'd like that. When...uh...when were you thinking?"

"Well, I don't know," he said, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Tomorrow night?"

"Sure, that sounds fine. I'll need to check with my mother that she can babysit though. Could you maybe give me your number and I'll call you later?" Reaching into her bag she pulled out another business card and a pen and handed them to him. He hurriedly wrote down his mother's number and passed them back. "Great. I'll give you a call."

"Sounds good," he said.

"Right then. I'd best be going." She opened the car door. "I'll talk to you later."

"Bye." He watched as she started the engine and pulled out of the forecourt, disappearing around the corner.

What have you done? You've asked another woman out on a date, are you insane?

"No," he said to himself as he slid into the driver's seat. "I'm living my life."