"You'll never guess what our son wants to do," Daphne said as she entered the master bedroom.
"Daphne, you have to let him grow up. I miss when he was a little boy, too, but you know he can't stay like that forever," Niles replied.
"No, it's nothing like that. David wants to make a speech at your father's memorial. He says that the cops and everyone else won't be talking about the things he remembers."
Niles couldn't help being surprised. "I think Dad would be proud. I know I am. Public speaking has never been my favorite thing." Just the thought of it made his anxiety kick in.
"David doesn't seem to mind," Daphne said, walking over to him.
"You know what I was thinking about before you came in here?" Niles asked, taking her in his arms. "Dad and Frasier and I really didn't become close until Frasier moved back here and he took Dad in." It seemed like a lifetime ago, but he knew he and Daphne could both recall those days as if they'd happened yesterday.
Daphne nodded. "When I first met your father, I never dreamed I'd think of him as me own father. Or that I'd be married to you." She kissed him.
For a moment, Niles enjoyed the feel of her lips on his. "You know, I think it was you who brought us closer," he said.
"Oh, don't exaggerate…." Daphne said, feeling herself blush.
"No, I mean it. Frasier took Dad in, and then he hired you. I met you, and felt an overwhelming attraction. That caused me to visit Dad and Frasier almost daily. I was there to see you, but, along the way, my relationships with the two of them started to change."
Daphne knew her husband made too much of the role she'd played in bringing them together. But it would be useless to argue. They'd had this conversation dozens of times over the years. For now, she let herself get lost in his eyes. They both crawled into bed, but sleep was the last thing on their minds.
In his room, David stared at what he'd written. He'd already mentioned the nights he'd spent at his grandfather's. But wasn't there more to their relationship than that? He glanced around his room, seeing all of the sports memorabilia he owned. All of it had been given to him by Martin. It was an attempt, from the very start, to get the boy interested in sports. For a moment, David imagined what it must have been like when his father and uncle were growing up. The stories he'd heard painted a very clear picture. Suddenly, David began to write. This might be the most difficult thing he'd ever done, but he didn't mind. He knew his grandfather was worth it.