Chapter Four

"There you are, Cohen!" called Tammy as he walked into the gallery. She raised her arms to the heavens dramatically and pinned him with this reproaching look. "I thought you decided to ditch me here again." He rolled his eyes at that remark. He had never did that; not intentionally. "What took you so long?"

He was about to answer her question when he suddenly noticed something strange. Except for three people that were on their way out as well, the gallery was empty. This was quite unusual, given the hour. "Where is everyone?" he asked, forgetting her previous query.

"Oh yeah. That. I think the weather finally scared them back home."

Today, that was a blessing, as far as he was concerned. He could be even earlier to meet Maureen and Libby. If earlier he was still dubious about seeing her again, meeting Libby made these doubts quickly dissipate. The fact that she was her daughter made her even more adorable in his eyes. On his way back to the gallery he couldn't stop thinking about their brief exchange, before he even knew who she was. There was this thing at the edge of his mind that was bugging him, though. He constantly felt as if he forgot to do something, but every time he tried to remember what it was, a little girl with the cutest smile took over his thoughts.

He wondered how Libby fit into the story of Maureen's divorce. He could only assume her ex-husband was Libby's father, although he had no idea if the timelines she had provided matched. He was well-familiar with her former lifestyle, and it might as well be some random guy she had a fling with. Yet he had a feeling this wasn't the case. Maureen wouldn't be so careless. She had always known how to take care of herself. And to be quite honest, it didn't really matter who Libby's father was. Maureen loved her daughter to death. This was the one thing he was sure of. It was quite astounding to watch.

"Cohen, are you still with us?"

Tammy's voice, now spiked with irritation, snapped him back into reality. He blinked, and nodded. "Sorry, I was – "

"Thinking, I know," she said, winking.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, frowning.

"Nothing!" she replied innocently, then shook her head. "What did you get for your mom?"

"My mom?" he echoed, not sure what she was on about. And then it dawned on him. The thing he forgot to do. Shit. "I forgot," he mumbled, hoping she'd somehow let it go.

Well, a guy could dream. "Forgot? Wasn't that the whole purpose of you leaving me here? How could you possibly go looking for a present to your mom, then forget about it?" She asked, looking at him suspiciously. She obviously found his predicament extremely funny.

"I just met... people... on my way, and it completely flew out of my mind."

He could almost see her senses sharpen, and mentally braced himself. "People, huh? Is one Maureen Johnson included in those people?" She used the Jewish Mother tone; the one she knew damn well he had dreaded.

"Let it go, Horowitz."

"Not a chance. If I'm right, I should consider myself lucky you bothered to return at all. You ditched me here, ergo, I have every right to know."

She had that look; he knew there was absolutely no way to beat her. "Fine. If it means you'll get off my back, I'll tell you." He looked around again. They were alone. "I think we should probably have an early night, what do you say?"

"Why, you've got somewhere else to be?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," he replied, keeping his back to her as he looked for the keys behind the main counter.

"Marky!" she squealed. "I'll be damned! Have you got yourself a date?"

"Shut up, Horowitz," he mumbled, blushing. He grabbed the keys for dear life and went over to lock the door.

"Tell me everything and this is an order!"

"Fine! Just shut up for a second!" She frowned, then crossed her arms against her chest and watched him attentively. "Yes, I met Maureen – "

"I knew it!" she cried triumphantly. He shot her another glare. She bit her lip bashfully. "Sorry."

"I ran into her in Macy's. That is, I ran into someone she was there with."

"This is getting interesting. I thought you said she was single. Was it a new boyfriend? Girlfriend? I guess one could never know for sure with her track record – "

"It was her daughter."

There was a long pause; he got absolutely no comment. Was it possible? For the first time in forever, Tammy was left speechless?

"I must admit I didn't see it coming," she said eventually.

"Yeah, neither did I."

"That… kind of puts a twist on things, doesn't it? A bit of a game changer."

"Why would it change anything?" She didn't answer, but he knew what she was thinking. He sighed. "Tammy, Maureen was… is… my friend. Sure, we have history, but nothing like this is ever going to happen again. The fact that she's a mother doesn't make her less my friend than before."

"If you say so," she said, but it seemed she was struggling not to say anything further, maybe question the whereabouts of Libby's father. He really hoped she knew better than delving into this issue which was neither his business, nor hers. "So you're going to meet her then?"

"I'm going to meet both of them, so the sooner we'll get out of here the better," he said, turning off the lights and opening the door for her. "You're coming?"

She walked pass him out to the street, but then changed her mind and looked back at him, unusually serious. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Cohen."

He held her gaze, hoping he could convey to her that he appreciated her concern, as unnecessary as it was. "I hope so too."

He hurried home to shower and change before he made his way back downtown. He entered the hotel's lobby a few minutes before 7PM, although he thought he might get there earlier. They were already waiting in a quiet corner, away from the crowds and bigger groups. For a moment he just stood there, watching them. Their similarity was astounding to him. It was easier to miss when they were apart, but quite striking when they were next to one another. Libby looked like a miniature version of Maureen.

They went to a diner he knew which was nearby, only a few minutes' walk from their hotel. He didn't want to take them too far because it was unbelievably cold after dark these days, and the hour was already kind of late for Libby, and he feared she would get tired. The place looked as if it was ripped out of the 50's, and its design included red vinyl seats and a huge jukebox that played old hits. Like Ellen's Stardust, only without the singing and the tourists. He wanted them to be able to speak without distractions.

Maureen seemed a lot more comfortable around him than she was that afternoon. It probably helped that she'd left behind her work clothes. In jeans and a dark green sweater that brought out the green in her eyes, she seemed less different than she seemed to him the previous evening, more like his old friend. She still had that habit of stretching the sleeves over her knuckles, he mused. It all made him feel more comfortable too. Plus, he knew they didn't have much time to catch up, so he decided to put aside his bitterness and resentment. He had a few good years anyway; there was really no point to bring it back up. They had enough to talk about even without opening old wounds.

"So how come you're here for work right on the holiday season?" he asked. It felt like a safe enough topic. Thousands of other queries were whirling in his head, bugging him since the evening they first met, but he couldn't ask most of them with Libby around.

"An unfortunate turn of events?" she asked, smiling crookedly at him. She explained about the theater she worked for, about what she had come there to do. "This event always takes place at the beginning of December. This year it was delayed somewhat, so here we are." She smiled at Libby, and he liked how she was making her feel part of the conversation.

"On Christmas though? That's a bit unfair."

"I guess there was no way around it. Either way, I couldn't really get away with it."

Did she try to get away with it? Was she that reluctant to return to New York? Did it leave such a mark on her that she never wanted to go back? He shook his head; if that were the case, he'd rather not know. "And you said you were here until after New Year?"

"Yeah. I'm thinking of taking couple of days off before we head back, to spend some time with this little one," she smiled, nodding towards Libby, who was sitting there watching him.

"Do you like New York so far, Libby?" he asked her.

"It's fun," she replied quietly. She sounded kind of sad though. She probably missed home. And Maureen was probably working around the clock, which wasn't really helping.

"Libby's babysitter is the absolute best, she makes sure Libby gets to see everything that's worth seeing."

"It's the best place to be in on Christmas," he assured the little girl, just as the waitress set their orders on the table.

"How about you?" asked Maureen, sipping her chocolate milkshake. "I mean, it's been ages, huh? Time flies."

"Me? You know. More or less the same," he replied briefly. He could feel his cheeks flush ever so slightly underneath her inquisitive gaze. He hated talking about himself. He wasn't that interesting anyway; why would she want to hear about him?

"Plus some awards, a couple of magazine articles, international fame…"

He chuckled uncomfortably and pretended to look over his shoulder. "Are we still talking about me?"

She rolled her eyes at his reaction. "Oh, come on, Mark, I read about some of it myself. Stop being so modest and own your success, you deserve it."

Her candor was touching. It was kind of funny, really. Back then it was she who pursued success and recognition. The accolades, the glory, a moment underneath the spotlight. Now she didn't seem to want any of it for herself. "I also teach photography workshops in NYU every now and again. That's the more important thing, to me; nourishing the future generation."

"I get that. I always try to be as available as possible for interns at work. They remind me how clueless I was when I first started. How clueless I still am sometimes, senior position or not."

"Yeah, exactly." It was as if she could read his mind. Back when they were together, he knew Maureen wasn't as dense and as vain as pretty much everyone had perceived her, but this was by far the most mature exchange they ever had, the very first time they truly had a similar mindset about anything. For the first time he didn't feel forced to play a part with her, pretend to be someone he wasn't, just so she would like him a bit more.

"So what are you going to do on Christmas Eve?" he asked, attempting to move the conversation as far away from him as possible. She smiled as if she knew exactly what he was trying to do. "Don't your parents live nearby?"

"Yeah," she replied slowly, her eyes wide with awe, as if she couldn't believe he remembered. "Yeah, they live in Jersey. But unfortunately they're visiting my grandparents in London. They booked it long before I knew we'd spend the holiday here. So I don't know; we'll probably stay in the hotel and watch cheesy movies or whatnot. What are you going to do?"

"I'll be in Scarsdale the entire weekend. We have this dinner thing for Chanukah and – "

Her jaw nearly dropped. "Scarsdale? Since when do you..." her voice trailed. She looked at him questionably.

"My father passed away a couple of years ago. I thought it might do me good to reconnect with my mom."

"Did it?"

"I'd like to think that it did, but I don't know." He loved his mom, he really did; but she had this almost desperate need to see him married and settled, and wasn't shy about reminding him that at any opportunity she had. Through the years, it had just gotten worse and worse. Every time he visited, she mentioned a new girl she wanted him to meet. Always the same nice, educated, boring Jewish girls that would grow to be just like her in a few of years.

"Mommy, how will Santa know we won't be home this year?" Libby's voice brought him back to reality.

"Because Santa just knows these things, baby. That's what makes him awesome."

He chuckled. It was classic Maureen, being so dead serious about this whole Santa nonsense parents had fed their poor kids. She had always had such holiday spirit. He remembered she had always loved dressing up on Halloween and New Year. Of course she would raise her daughter to be the same way. Actually, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. Tradition was important.

Libby didn't look so convinced. Like her mother, she wouldn't be easily fooled. She narrowed her eyes at Maureen ever so slightly. "So he'll know where to find us?"

"Of course he will!"

"Do you think he will?" Her eyes were suddenly on him, the glint in them shifting from suspicion to hope.

He stared at her for a second, totally speechless. Was he expected to go along with the pretense? He was Jewish! "Well, I don't… I'm not really…" he stammered, then shot Maureen a pleading glance.

"Libby, Mark doesn't celebrate Christmas."

Libby gasped, as if not celebrating Christmas was some terrible crime. "Why?"

"Because he's Jewish. It means that instead of Christmas and New Year and Halloween he celebrates other holidays."

"No Christmas?" asked Libby, obviously horrified. It looked as if she couldn't imagine a world where Christmas was not being celebrated.

"Hey, it's not as bad as you think. We've got other holidays." He had never been overly religious or anything, and yet he felt this childish need to defend his own faith and traditions.

"Like what?"

"Like Chanukah." From the corner of his eye, he saw Maureen roll her eyes, and smiled. He remembered that time they celebrated both Christmas and Chanukah in the loft. It's been the craziest night. She and Roger couldn't stop laughing at him as he lit the candles, citing the prayer in broken Hebrew. There was this naughty spark in her eyes now; he knew she remembered. "Chanukah is actually like Christmas, only it lasts eight days. And each day, you get a present."

Libby stared at him, her eyes wide with amazement. "Really?"

"Yeah. And we light candles and eat special doughnuts and hash browns. It's really not that horrible like your mom thinks." He couldn't help stealing a glance at Maureen, mock-glaring at her.

"Do you really get a present for each day?" she asked him dubiously. "I've always thought that either you made it up so we wouldn't pity you, or it was some kind of compensation for Jewish kids because they didn't have Christmas."

"We do. I mean, kids in my class always got presents for each day," he said, putting on his best miserable expression.

"Aw, poor Marky!" cooed Maureen.

"My point is, we've got other holidays that can be just as fun as Christmas."

"Right," she said slowly, trying to hide her smile. "Sure, whatever you say, Mark."

"Mommy, I want to celebrate Chanukah too!" said Libby.

He burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. She sounded so resolute. Maureen shot him a glare, then turned her attention to Libby. "You can't celebrate Chanukah, Munchkin, because you're not Jewish."

"How can I be one?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure you have to be born one."

"Actually, once your mom is Jewish, which your mom is not, Libby, then you are Jewish too," he said, feeling ridiculously proud of himself. He did listen at school once upon a time.

Libby's face fell. "But I want to celebrate Chanukah and get a present for each day!" she said. Her bottom lip began to tremble. Definitely Maureen's daughter, he mused, struggling to conceal his amusement.

"How about a compromise? We'll celebrate Christmas like we always do, but you'll still get a present each day until New Year. We got two today already, that's an impressive start, isn't it?"

That seemed to satisfy the little girl. Her lip stopped trembling. "Okay."

The three of them shared a slice of cheesecake for dessert. To his intense surprise, he was having the best time. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so chatty. It felt as if he was waking up from years of deep slumber. He remembered Tammy's apprehension from earlier, and made a mental note to tell her how ridiculous she was, how wrong. And then he stopped mid-thought when he noticed Libby's head dropping against Maureen's shoulder.

"We should get going," said Maureen reluctantly. "I've got a meeting at 8AM sharp and it's way passed Libby's bedtime. I bet you've got stuff to do tomorrow too."

"Only about a million," he replied, already signaling the waitress for their check. From the corner of his eye he saw Maureen reaching for her bag. "What are you doing?"

"Taking out my purse. You didn't think I'd let you pay for dinner, did you?"

"And why the hell not?"

She laughed softly. "Mark, you've always been the gentleman, but come on. It's not fair, there's two of us. Let's split it." The waitress put the check on the table between them. They both reached for it at the same moment, but he was slightly faster. His hand covered hers and he gave her fingers a little squeeze. He thought he felt her freeze.

"Please let me pay for dinner," he said quietly, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

She hesitated, but eventually sighed with resignation. "Fine. But next time I'm buying."

Their hands were still joined. She didn't try to pull her hand back. It felt nice. Familiar. "We'll see about that," he said, slowly letting go of her hand.

Libby was almost asleep, and so he carried her all the way to the hotel. He followed Maureen into the suite where she took Libby from his arms and excused herself to tuck her in. He let his eyes wander around the suite living area as he waited for her to reappear. There was a fake Christmas tree in a corner, lit and decorated, and it brought a smile to his face. He loved that despite the fact they were forced to spend the holiday away from home, Maureen had made an effort to make it as normal as possible for her daughter. It spoke of devotion he was only beginning to uncover in this new version of her.

He turned at the soft sound of footsteps as Maureen reemerged, barefoot, into the living area. "She's asleep," she said. She kept her voice low, as if there was a chance to wake Libby, although she was sound asleep several doors down the hall.

"You should get some rest too," he said gently. She looked exhausted. She nodded, then wordlessly walked him to the door. "I had a great time. She's truly incredible."

He thought she was blushing, but in the dim light, he couldn't be sure. "Thank you. I had a great time too. We should do this again. Just us the next time. There are... things to be said."

Was she talking about them? About the past? About the truth behind her marriage and Libby's father? Possibly all of the above. He nodded. "Yeah. Okay, sure. I'd love to do this again."

"When are you going to Scarsdale?"

"Midday Friday. I'll be back on Monday."

"How about tomorrow evening then?"

He thought about it for a minute. Thursday night. He didn't have any plans… well, did he ever? He nodded. "Tomorrow is great. Let me think where we can go and I'll call you tomorrow." This time, he knew he would. Looking at her, she seemed to know that too.

Their gazes locked, and he was suddenly aware of how close they were standing to one another. She was impossibly more beautiful in the soft light. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree added a certain glow to her features. She seemed as if she wanted to say something, but didn't. Instead she just kept looking at him. There was something in her eyes, this glimmer he recognized from so long ago and didn't think he'd ever see in her eyes again. But it was there, and for a second he was mesmerized by it. He didn't dare move, in fear it might burn out. It felt as if the entire world had stopped existing. Before he knew what he was doing, before he could rationalize his actions or back away, he inched closer.