Part Seven

Later that day, when both Emily and Grace are napping, Sydney picks up the phone to call her husband.

"Michael Vaughn's office," his secretary answers.

"Hi, Liz, it's Sydney. Is my husband in?" Sydney asks.

"You called at a good time, Sydney, he's between meetings. I'll put you through."

A moment later, Michael is on the line. "Hi, sweetie."

"Hi, baby. I won't keep you, I just wanted to let you know that Amanda can baby-sit on Friday, if you still want to go out with Jake and Heather."

"Should we be worried about Amanda's lack of social life? She's always available when we call."

"We pay her well, darling," Sydney reminds him. "I'm sure that's worth giving up a night of cruising or going to the movies or whatever sixteen-year-olds are doing these days."

"I doubt they're cruising or going to the movies, Syd. They're probably getting drunk and having sex."

"Oh, don't say that," Sydney sighs, settling herself into the rocking chair in Grace's room. "Our babies will be teenagers before we know it."

"How are our babies?"

Sydney groans. "See, you see them every day, you still ask. Dad sees them every few months, he doesn't."

"You spoke to your father? Did you tell him about the baby?"

Sydney can't help but smile. "Em answered the phone when he called, so she was the one to tell him, actually."

"Oh, no," Michael says with a laugh. "How did he react?"

"About how I expected," Sydney says, twirling a few strands of hair around her index finger. "As usual, he made it clear that I'm the biggest disappointment in the world to him. Heaven forbid that his only daughter is--" she gasps dramatically. "Just a housewife!"

"He could never do what you do," Michael assures her. "And if it makes you feel any better, I think all children are a major disappointment to their parents. Look at my mother. Her only son became a lawyer." He says the word as if it is something scandalous. "I moved her grandbabies to New York."

"But your mother is totally sweet," Sydney sighs. "My dad is--" she struggles to find the right word.

"Not?" Michael supplies.

Sydney bursts out laughing. "I haven't even told you the reason he called. He bought his plane ticket to come visit for Emily's birthday."

"He bought his ticket?" Michael sounds genuinely confused. "Syd, I told him at Christmas that I'd take care of the travel arrangements."

"You know how he is," Sydney says. "Look, baby, I'll let you get back to work. Will you be late tonight?"

"Everything's running smoothly so far, so I'm thinking no, but I'll call if anything changes."

"Okay. Don't forget to tell Jake about Friday."

"I won't. Bye, honey. I love you."

"Love you, too."

Sydney hangs up the phone with a smile on her face, then stands to gaze at her baby, sleeping in the crib. "Oh, Gracie," she whispers. "You're so precious. How can my dad not understand why I want to spend every single minute I can with you?"

"Michael asked the other day if I want to think about quitting my job when the baby is born."

"Well, that's not surprising."

She has been having conversations like the one she had with her father today for years, one of the most memorable being the one they'd had over lunch a few months before Jack was born.

"Why is it not surprising?"

"Well, Michael's a young man, just starting to enjoy real success, the kind of money he's only dreamed of. I'm sure it would be good for his ego, and his image, to have his pretty young wife not working."

"Bastard," Sydney whispers. She remembers sitting back in her chair, stunned, trying to process the comment. Michael had asked if she wanted to quit because he'd thought that staying home with their child might be something she would want to do. And if it made him feel good that he could support his family on his own, what was so wrong with that?

"I don't know if I told you," Sydney responded casually, as if the remark didn't sting. "We've decided to call the baby Jack. Jack William Vaughn."

That tripped him up for a minute. "I'm not sure if I've earned that honor."

"Oh, I'm sure you haven't," Sydney said coolly. "But it's a good name, a strong name, and we want our son to have it."

Sydney's father stared down at the table. "I'm not sure how strong I am, Sydney."

But he was, once. When Sydney was a little girl, she'd thought he was the strongest man in the world. But he'd been more than that. He'd been kind, compassionate. Wonderful. She'd called her son Jack because of what her father had been, and maybe could be again.

And because even after everything, he was still her father. And she still loved him.