Sydney has just put Emily and Grace down for naps that afternoon when the phone rings. Sydney winces, snatching it up before it has a chance to wake either of her girls. "Hello?"

"Sydney?"

Sydney sighs. "Hello, Marguerite."

"I was just calling to see that you all made it back to New York safely, and to see how your week went."

Sydney fumes silently. Of course, after all but insisting that she and her father air out all of their issues on Sunday, now Marguerite's going to skate over the fact that Sydney is still angry at her. "The week was a little tense, Marguerite," she says, her voice clipped. "My father's comments have Michael feeling guilty about our entire lifestyle, and he's spent the entire week burying himself in work as a result."

"Well, that's silly," Marguerite says, her tone dismissive. "Avoiding a problem has never done anyone any good."

"Avoiding a problem, no," Sydney responds coolly. "But throwing a problem in someone's face and pushing them until they explode doesn't exactly make things peachy, either."

"You and your father needed to talk, Sydney," Marguerite says sternly.

"Maybe," Sydney agrees. "But I could have gone my whole life without his insulting Michael right in front of him, without knowing--" suddenly she finds herself choked up, unable to continue.

There is a long silence on the other end of the line. "You've never talked to me about how bad things are between you and your father, Sydney."

"But you've seen us together," Sydney says, tears blurring her vision.

Another long silence. "I remember the first time I met him," Marguerite says quietly. "At your and Michael's engagement party."

Sydney closes her eyes, remembering the night. An elegant hotel, a catered dinner. She in a black dress with spaghetti straps, Michael in a handsome suit. She'd been absolutely glowing that night, accepting everyone's congratulations.

"You were so happy, on this high," Marguerite echoes her thoughts. "I don't think the smile left your face all night. Except for the moment when your father first approached you."

Tears glisten in Sydney's eyes as she recalls her smile faltering, just for a split second, as her father had approached her and Michael, who had been talking with Marguerite. Part of her had been so happy that he'd come, that he'd wanted to share the night with her. She'd been hopeful that she could introduce him to everyone and everything would be wonderful. He'd be a part of her life, and it would be fantastic.

The other part of her had just wished he'd stayed away and let her have her perfect night.

The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that that is how so many of her encounters with her father have been over the years: her inviting him to events because she feels like she should and then half wishing that he'd just go away. But she'd kept inviting him, kept in touch with him because some part of her had wished she could have a relationship with her father, and a bigger of her had felt like she should. Her father should be a part of her life. Her children should know their grandfather. Why? He'd never done anything but make her miserable.

"Maybe what happened Sunday was a good thing," Sydney whispers. "He gave me an excuse to cut him out of my life. I think I've been looking for one for years." It hurts her to realize that maybe he's been subconsciously looking for a way to remove himself from hers, as well. Spending time together was just far too painful for the two of them.

"Cutting him out of your life would certainly be the easiest thing to do," Marguerite observes.

Sydney bristles at Marguerite's quietly disapproving tone. "Just because it's the easiest doesn't mean it's the wrong decision," Sydney says softly.

"No," Marguerite agrees. "It doesn't."

There is a long moment of silence between the two women. "Do you and Michael have plans tonight?" Marguerite finally asks.

"Yeah," Sydney says, wiping a few stray tears away with the heel of her hand. "An art gallery opening. The artist is the daughter of a client of Michael's. He acted guilty even asking me to go with him, Marguerite. He's terrified of treating me like a trophy."

"Michael--" Marguerite pauses as if trying to choose her words carefully. "Michael is a man who has everything he's ever dreamed of in life. Marriage, family, career, money. Your father just made him sit back and wonder if he didn't forget about what you wanted in the process of getting all of those things."

"But he didn't," Sydney insists. "We've done everything together, Marguerite. Ever since we've been married, we've made every decision together, we've always done what we thought was best for us, for the family. Me quitting work, his taking the job here in New York-- it's all been a joint decision. The family is both of our first priority."

"I know, sweetheart." Sydney detects a certain fondness in her mother-in-law's voice. "Michael does, too. But of course when someone suggests that you're not happy, and that he's the reason-- it's going to hurt him. Your happiness is so important to him."

"I know it is," Sydney says with a slight smile. "Look-- I should go, Marguerite, I want to get some laundry done before the girls wake up from their nap."

"All right. And Sydney--" Marguerite sounds suddenly hesitant. "Are we okay? I really didn't think I did anything wrong by inviting your father, but I would hate for you to be mad at me."

Sydney sighs. "I don't want to argue about it, Marguerite." The thing is, she still thinks it was inappropriate of Marguerite to invite her father, and whether the confrontation with him had been a good thing or not, she resented having been put in a situation where she had to have it. "I'll talk to you soon, okay? Emily's birthday is right around the corner."

"Time moves so fast, doesn't it?" Marguerite marvels. "Your birthday is even sooner than Emily's, dear, then Jack's is in July, and Grace's in October, and before you know it you'll have a new little one."

"I know," Sydney says, touching her stomach. "There's still so much to do. I'm almost ready to start on the new nursery, Marguerite, I'll have to show you what I'm planning when you come for Emily's birthday. Maybe it'll even be partly done by then."

"But then where will I sleep?" Marguerite laughs. "You won't have a guest room anymore."

"Wow, you're right," Sydney realizes. "But the sofa in Michael's study folds out into a bed, you can always sleep there. But if my dad still comes--" she breaks off suddenly.

"Do you still want him to?" Marguerite asks.

Sydney pauses. "I don't think so," she says softly. "I can't risk a scene at my little girl's birthday party, I just can't." She sighs. "The thing is, I think Emily would probably like to have him here."

"Do what you think is best, Sydney," Marguerite advises.

"I know."

It's just so hard, sometimes, to know what the best thing is.