Chapter 23

Bobby timed his arrival at work that morning to be precisely 5 minutes before Eames'. He strategically placed on her desk a steaming cup of coffee, fixed just the way she liked it. Next to it was a small Styrofoam plate bearing her favorite pastry. He carefully removed the plastic wrap and laid a napkin to the left of the plate. The last touch was a plastic fork she could use to eat her pastry if she so desired. He then made himself scarce; he felt the bathroom would be the best option. He could hide out there for a few minutes, then casually re-enter the squad room a few minutes after Eames did.

When Eames entered two minutes later, she found the arrangement on her desk and her partner strangely absent. She shrugged out of her jacket and shoved her bag into her desk drawer. She took one more look around the squad room in an attempt to find Goren, but the aroma of the coffee overcame her and she gave in, grabbing the cup as she sat down in her chair. The coffee was as wonderful as it smelled and she couldn't help but smile.

"Coffee to your liking," she heard her partner ask softly.

Eames looked up to see him sitting down into his chair. "It's wonderful; thank you," she told him gratefully. "I suppose the pastry and the place setting are a peace offering, since you forgot to call me last night," she said pointedly.

He ducked his head sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, um, yeah. But I can explain," he told her next, looking up at her. "Trey called."

"Oh," Eames asked him curiously.

"Yeah. He was curious how dinner had gone and was also upset because Amy had been crying."

"Crying? What did you do her, Bobby? Tell her you weren't interested," Eames accused him.

"No. We had a lot of hard stuff to talk about. I told her how much easier my life would have been these last 25 years if they had been in it. How hard it was with Mom in Carmel Ridge, Frank's drug and alcohol problems, and how I would have loved to have been around to be a father to Trey and have them as a counterpoint to all the other problems. I opened a lot of old wounds for her last night, Eames. It wasn't easy for her to hear. She felt understandably guilty and upset. It wasn't all tears, though. I got to meet Hudson," he told her.

"Hudson?"

He swallowed hard before he continued. "My grandson," he reminded her. "I'm now officially Hudson's "Boppy," he told her with a smile.

"Boppy, huh? I like that. It has a nice ring to it," Eames smiled at him. "It's hard to imagine you're really old enough to be a grandfather."

"Yeah, it's hard for me to believe, too, and I met the little guy. What's on the docket for today? I'm going to a big wine tasting at the Mansfield Gallery in SoHo this evening, and I need to leave early so I can get ready."

"The Mansfield Gallery? I'm impressed; you're really moving up in the world, Bobby."

Bobby tilted his head to the side slightly and cocked an eyebrow at her in question.

"Is this another date with Amy," Eames asked curiously.

"Not really. She and Trey are putting on the wine tasting as a promotion for the vineyard and the label. Amy asked me if I'd like to join her there, and I said yes. Oh, what are you doing on Saturday?"

"Saturday? I was going out to my sister's in the afternoon. I promised my nephew we'd try out a new video game he got last week. Why?"

"Laura's funeral is Saturday morning at St. Mark's. I told Trey I'd be there, but I thought you might want to go as well, since we worked the case." He wrote the information down on a slip of paper and handed it across the desk to her. She took it from him and studied it carefully.

"I can be there Bobby. I think it would be good for us both to be there, to represent the department. You think Ross would want to go?"

"I don't know," Bobby answered her. "I'll give him the information as well and let him decide. Back to my earlier question, what have we got to do today?"

Eames handed him a stack of folders. "These. We've been asked to review some of our cold cases from the last three years and run information back through the system, see if anything new pops up. I've already sorted out the ones that interested you the most back then."

Bobby looked at her as he took the folders from her. "Well then, here's to something new popping up." They exchanged small knowing smiles and began working.

By noon, it was very obvious to the two detectives that there was nothing new for them to follow up on. Bobby had tried to find patterns to connect the cases; Eames had run names through countless computer data bases; both had made numerous phone calls. All dead ends. Eames sighed and got Bobby's attention.

He looked up at her.

"You hungry? I just realized I'm starving."

Bobby looked at his watch. "Yeah, I could go for some lunch. It's 12:30. What are you in the mood for?"

"How about that sandwich shop we went to last week? I'm buying." She pulled her purse out of her desk, stood and grabbed her jacket. Bobby followed her to the elevator.

By four o'clock that afternoon, there was no reason for either one of them to stay any longer, and Ross was eager to pick up his boys for the weekend, so Bobby and Alex left the squad room. On the way home, Bobby thought about Eames's reaction to Hudson slinging his spaghetti-laden spoon in the air at the sight of Bobby; he had shared more of his evening with Eames over lunch. "Sounds like the little guy likes you already," she had told him with a smile. She had been pleased at the good outcome of his visit, in spite of the difficult talk he and Amy had to have.

Bobby noticed his anxiety over getting reacquainted with Amy had eased significantly since telling Eames how last night had gone, and he was now looking forward to this evening. It would be quite interesting to see the kinds of people that frequented these society events and how they interacted with each other. He hadn't had a nice evening of people watching in quite some time, and found himself looking forward to it as he showered and dressed.

As he was tying his tie, his cell phone rang. Picking it up, he saw Eames' name and number on the front screen and cringed inwardly.

"This better not be a call out," he stated by way of answering.

"It isn't," Eames answered him. He could hear the smile in her voice through the phone. "What are you wearing?"

"Clothes," he told her with a smile.

"Idiot," she said. She heard him chuckle softly in her ear and couldn't help but smile at the sound. It had been a long time since he was joking and teasing with her like this and she was glad; it meant he was feeling better about life.

"I'm wearing my black suit with the grey pinstripes."

"Shirt?"

"Blue."

"Tie?"

"The one you gave me."

"Nice. Tell Amy I said "Hi."

"I will. You got plans?"

"There's a Cary Grant movie on AMC tonight. Don't smirk," she said snidely.

"I'm not smirking, Eames," Bobby replied defensively.

"Yes, you are. You always smirk over my movie choices."

"Goodnight, Eames," he told her with a smile in his voice.

"Goodnight, Bobby. Have fun." She hung up the phone, leaving Bobby to deal with tying his tie. He left his apartment with a smile on his face and a spring in his step, something he hadn't had in a long time.

Bobby arrived early at the gallery. He had planned it that way, so that he could get some time with Amy and Trey before the event began. As Bobby entered the gallery, one of the employees stopped him and asked for his name, then informed him that he was not on the guest list, so he would have to leave as this was a private function for gallery members only.

Bobby looked at the cute young lady with the clipboard and gave her one of his most charming smiles. "But I wouldn't be on the guest list," he told her mischievously. He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially into her ear, "I'm Ms. Wainwright's date." He pulled back, winked at her, and walked away, leaving the stunned young lady staring at his broad back as he made his way across the gallery.

Amy looked up as she heard someone approaching the alcove where she and Trey were setting up the tasting display. "I know that look," she said with a smile. "You've been charming the girls up front, haven't you?"

"Who, me," Bobby tried vainly to feign innocence. "The famous Goren charm. Never fails to get me in the door." He then surprised her by walking up to her, putting his arm around her waist and pulling her to his side to plant a quick kiss on her cheek. "Need any help?"

"I do," came a strained voice from behind him. Bobby turned to see Trey struggling to steer a hand cart loaded with cases of wine. Bobby was over to the cart in a few broad strides and easily lifted the top two cases.

"Where do these go?"

Amy looked at the writing stamped on them and pointed across the gallery. "Those are white wines. They will be over in the south alcove. Samantha is over there; she'll tell you where to put them."

Bobby made his way carefully to the alcove Amy had indicated and found a pretty red head busily placing glasses on a table. "Are you Samantha," he asked.

She looked up and smiled. "You must be Bobby. Amy told me you would be coming as her date," she explained at his look of confusion. "I'm Amy's Events Manager. Just stack those back here next to the others, please."

Samantha studied the man as he set the boxes down and was still scrutinizing him as he stood back up. "If you don't mind my asking….I can't help but notice…well, um, what I mean is…are you Trey's father," she blurted out, then quickly became embarrassed at her forwardness. "Oh, I'm sorry. Maybe I should have asked Amy that question."

Bobby looked at her, tilted his head to one side and considered his answer. "Yes, I am and yes, you probably should have. I guess I need to be prepared to have Amy's friends and associates asking that question, huh?"

"Well, the resemblance is uncanny. I can see where Trey gets his charm and good looks, though," she said with a smile.

Now it was Bobby's turn to be embarrassed. "You'd better get used to it," Samantha teased. "Amy's friends are going to figure it out right away, and they won't be as tactful as I was. It might even get ugly. You're also going to be a conversation piece in the gossip circle. Showing up at an event like this after all this time, it's going to be a shock to everyone, you know? Well, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for your help." She turned back to arranging the glasses on the table.

Bobby stood there for a moment, realizing he had just been summarily dismissed as well as trying to take in what she had just told him. She had revealed more to him in those few sentences than Amy had the night before in the garden. He thought about what Samantha had said as he made his way back to the other side of the gallery. Who was he to think he could just walk back into her life and be accepted? He wasn't a part of this group of people; Amy's peers were either born or married into this level of society, and he was neither. Would being Trey's father be enough to cause her friends and peers to give him a chance?

Bobby nearly ran into Trey, he was so wrapped up in his thoughts. The sound of breaking glass brought him back. "I'm sorry; I didn't see you there. Let me go find a broom." He turned, but Trey stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," the young man said. "You were a million miles away. What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, just something Samantha said. It's nothing. Now, is there something I can do to help where I can't break anything," he said with a smile.

Several hours later, Bobby was carrying a tray of glasses filled with Wainwright Reserve Merlot, passing them out to the guests milling around the gallery. He stopped before a group of older women and offered them each a glass. One of the ladies smiled at him and said, "Which wine is this?"

"This is the 2006 Wainwright Reserve Merlot, one of three wines currently bearing the Wainwright Estates Reserve label. What do you think?"

"I think it's marvelous," the lady next to her commented. "Would you serve this with cheese?"

"Cheese, if it's sharp cheddar, maybe even Brie. I personally would serve this with a good steak, grilled salmon, or even lamb. I think it's my personal favorite," he grinned broadly at them. "And, I would always serve it to ladies as fine as you." The group tittered and preened under his attention, and he was chuckling to himself as he moved off to the next group.

These ladies were closer in age to Amy, he noticed, and they were watching him intently. He felt the hackles on his neck begin to rise as they continued to study him as he approached. One woman, wearing a very low-cut red dress, brazenly swept her gaze from his head to his toes and back up again, clearly enjoying the journey. He offered them each a glass in turn and was about to move off when he felt a hand on his arm.

He looked down to see bright red nail polish on perfectly manicured nails gripping his arm. He looked up into the eyes of "red dress" as he would refer to her later.

"This is an absolutely fabulous Cabernet," she purred, looking up at him with obvious interest. "You must tell us all about it. My friends and I are very interested in wine, you know."

Bobby turned and looked at the four ladies standing with her. He gently shrugged his shoulder to disengage the red finger nails from his sleeve and focused his attention on the group. He seriously doubted anyone in this group was really interested in wine. "This happens to be a Merlot," he began, stressing the word Merlot. "It is one of three wines currently bearing the Wainwright Estates Reserve label; an honor given to wines made only from the best grapes on the Estate. It goes best with red meat, lamb, heavy pasta, strong-flavored cheeses and meaty fish such as salmon and tuna. Any other questions?" He was almost afraid to ask, but knew he would be remiss in his duties as a host, a favor to Amy he had gladly undertaken when she had found out at the last minute that she was short-handed one server.

"Yes. I have a question." It was "red dress" and the look in her eyes was positively malicious as she leered at Bobby. "You wouldn't happen to be Trey's daddy, would you?" The other women gasped at the audacity of the woman, but seemed all too eager to hear what his answer would be.

Bobby leaned over and spoke softly into her ear. The other ladies couldn't hear what was said, but did notice the look of shock and embarrassment that suddenly overcame their companion's face. She reeled back away from Bobby as he smoothly turned on his heel and gracefully moved off.

Amy had been watching from a short distance away. She knew that particular group of women were vicious gossips and prided themselves on knowing and telling everyone's secrets. She had never seen anyone cause them that much shock and embarrassment and couldn't wait to find out what Bobby had said. Talking to Bobby would have to wait, however, as the owner of the gallery was making his way towards her. She sighed as she checked her watch. This was the part of the evening she liked the least: being drug in front of the group to talk about the winery and the wines they had been sampling. She looked around for Trey, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Are you ready," Mr. Mansfield asked her. She looked at him wearily. "I know, Amy; this is not your favorite thing to do, but I can't find Trey…"

"Well then, let's get it over with, shall we?" She put her arm through his and allowed him to lead her towards the middle of the gallery. Suddenly, Bobby appeared at her side. She smiled gratefully at him.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Yes," Amy said, relieved. "Stand with us. I have to talk about the winery and the wines for a few minutes. Trey usually does this part, but I can't find him."

"Sure," Bobby replied. He began to scan the top of the crowd, looking for Trey. He spotted Samantha off to the side, and raised his eyebrows at her in question while mouthing Trey's name. She shrugged and shook her head, then slipped off towards the back of the gallery.

Mr. Mansfield introduced Amy to his guests, then stepped back and stood next to Bobby. Bobby was on heightened alert, his cop instincts in high gear and his gut screaming that something was wrong. Don't panic, Bobby, he told himself sternly. Just stay calm, keep scanning the area. What do you see? Who's out of place? As he kept looking around, he noticed Samantha at the back of the group, waving her hand to get his attention. She flashed him an okay sign and a quick smile. He exhaled and relaxed slightly.

When Amy was finished with her talk, Bobby stepped forward, took her elbow and steered her towards Samantha.

"Where's Trey," he asked her urgently.

"Trey's fine. He's on his way to the hospital"—Amy gasped, but Samantha put her hand on Amy's shoulder and smiled at her sympathetically. "It's okay, Ms. Wainwright. It's Hudson. Seems he got scared and tried to climb out of his crib. The nanny thinks he may have broken his arm when he fell, so she and Mr. Wainwright called on their way to the emergency room. Trey left to meet them over there. He asked me to tell you that he would call you as soon as he has anything to tell you."

"Bobby, can you stay and help clean up? Then I'd like you to take me to the hospital, if you wouldn't mind. Trey and I rode over here together and now I don't have a car," Amy told him as she fought back the tears.

Bobby gave her a hug. "Sure, Amy; I'm here. Whatever you need."

An hour and a half later, the gallery had been restored to order and the catering crew was pulling away in their van. Samantha gave Amy's arm a squeeze and promised to call her in the morning. Trey had called earlier and said that Hudson had fractured his ulna and would be fine. Bobby and Amy walked quietly out to his car and got in.

As they drove away, Bobby asked Amy what hospital they needed to go to. "Manhattan General," Amy replied. "Daddy knows the director of the ER; they're old Army buds." She smiled feebly at him and reached over and squeezed his hand. "Thank you," she said. "You didn't have to do all this; you were just my date for the evening. I really appreciate it."

"My pleasure," he said, smiling back at her. Her smile could still make his heart skip a beat. "I told you, I'm here, Amy. I'll do whatever you need me to do." She shook her head. "No, no, I mean it, Amy. We're back in each other's lives now, and like it or not, we are a family. What exactly that means at this point and how it's going to all work out, I don't know; I can't predict the future. But what I do know is that I'm going to take you to the hospital and together WE are going to check on OUR grandson. Then I'm going to take you home. You need to get your sleep before the funeral tomorrow."

"The funeral. You know about the funeral?"

"Trey told me. Eames and I will both be there; as much to extend our condolences from the department as my being there because I'm Trey's father. I hope you don't mind."

"It doesn't seem like I could stop you from going even if I did mind," Amy said, a slightly perturbed tone tingeing her voice as she pulled her hand out of his. She shifted in her seat and looked out the window. Bobby left her to her own thoughts as they arrived at the hospital and he pulled into an available parking spot. It was technically for NYPD, so Bobby reached across Amy to pull his hang tag out of the glove box and flipped it over the rear view mirror. He turned to face her, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel, the other extended across the back of the seat.

"Look at me," he said firmly. She turned her head; he could see she'd been crying. He swore under his breath, inhaled deeply and continued. "I understand why you're so hesitant to have me back in your life; it's been a long time for us and we need to go slowly. But, please, don't tell me I can't be a part of Trey's; not now. I told him I would be at the funeral tomorrow, and I meant it. Maybe you don't want me there; that's fine, I can handle that; but Trey needs me there and I need to be there for him." He pointed towards the Emergency Room entrance. "And in there, is a little boy who needs to see his grandmother."

Bobby got out of the car and walked around to the other side. He opened the door. Amy was still sitting there, stunned by what he had said and still somewhat in shock over what had happened to Hudson. Bobby reached in and unbuckled her seatbelt, then he gently took her hand and tugged her arm. Numbly, she allowed him to guide her out of his car and waited while he reached back into the glove box for his shield. He shut the door and pocketed his shield, then turned and looked at her. He reached for her again, this time taking her hand and gently tucking it under his arm and into his elbow. She leaned into him for support and he smiled faintly as he led them inside.