A Few Days Later ….
Mrs. Thatcher's plane arrived at two o'clock on Friday afternoon. Meg drove to O'Hare Airport to pick her mother up herself. It was the first time Clara Thatcher had been to one of Meg's posts.
"Mom, here." Meg waved as she stood waiting for her mother at the gate.
"Nut Meg, there you are." Clara rushed over to her daughter and caught her up in a rib crushing embrace.
"Where's your husband/father- to- be?" The older woman asked as she and Meg headed toward the baggage claim.
"Benton had to attend to the consulate, I'm a bit understaffed." Meg explained.
"What are they going to do without you?" Clara found her bag on the carousel. Her dark hair fell across her cheek as she and Meg took the bag off and set it on the tile floor.
"Ottawa is sending a replacement in ten days so that I can take a leave of absence. The doctor said this was a high risk pregnancy." Meg explained carefully. She hated having to explain things to her mother. One sentence led to a hundred questions.
"Will you have to go back home if you aren't working at the consulate?" Clara asked in awe. The two women began making their way through the busy airport, toward Meg's car.
"No, I'll be marrying Benton." They talked about the wedding, the baby and moving to a new apartment as Meg drove them to the consulate.
Turnbull stood sentry duty when they arrived. The young Mountie didn't blink or give any indication of even living as Inspector Thatcher walked up the front steps, her mother trailing behind.
"I can't wait for you to meet Benton, I hope you two get along." Meg opened the door to find her fiance talking to Diefenbaker.
"No, you cannot have Ray's turtle as a pet, you're barely house trained as it is, besides, how would you clean it's aquarium?" Fraser admonished the white wolf.
"Fraser, were you just telling your wolf he couldn't have a pet?" Meg didn't know if she was incredulous or confused.
"Margaret, Mrs. Thatcher, hello." Benton avoided answering. He shook hands with the woman who barely looked five years older than Meg.
"Constable Fraser, a pleasure to meet you." Clara by passed his handshake and pulled him into a hug. The Mountie stood stock still. Meg nearly laughed out loud at his awkwardness.
"Mother, let me show you into my office." Meg interrupted, motioning Fraser in with them.
"Alright, sweetie." Clara let Fraser open the door for her.
"He's handsome." She whispered into her daughter's ear. When Meg looked back she saw the red hot blush rising up Benton's face as he looked away. All she could do was shrug and smile. Her mother was right.
"I've got a pot of fresh tea in the kitchen, would either of you care for some?" Fraser stood while Meg and her mother settled themselves on the couch.
"Yes, please." Meg answered, looking to her mother for an answer.
"That would be wonderful, thank you." Clara pulled a pair of glasses out of her sweater pocket and began running a cleaning cloth over the lenses. Fraser went on to kitchen, leaving them alone.
"I know you've told me the gist of how you became pregnant, but refresh my memory, Constable Fraser wasn't a sperm donor?" Clara tried to get her facts straight.
"No, Mother, I was upset after the second round of IVF failed, Benton comforted me, it just happened. Neither of us planned it that way." Meg explained again.
"I can see that you're more satisfied than I've seen you in a long while, he must be something very special." The stylish, fifty-something took her daughter's hand, smiling.
"He is, Mom, he's loved me through everything, and I gave him a rough way to go most of the time." Meg admitted, not that her mother didn't already know her daughter's strict, sometimes petty, manner.
"I'm glad you've found someone, sweetie." It was good to have Meg so happy.
"Here you are, ladies." Benton set the tea tray down laden with tea, milk, sugar, and Nutter Butter cookies.
"Lovely. Now, Constable Fraser, tell me all about yourself." Clara motioned for him to take a seat across the coffee table from her.
"Please, call me 'Benton'. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the men responsible for my father's death …." Meg winced when she heard the familiar story's beginning. Her mother's eye glazed over about the time Ben started talking about the time he and Ray Vecchio had stopped a group of bank robbers, one of them being a woman he would see again when they were locked in a bank vault and nearly drowned.
"Ben, the phone is ringing, would you care to answer it?" Meg re-directed him at the first opportunity. Once he was out of ear shot, Clara turned to her daughter.
"Does he always talk so much?" she shook her head, amazed at the length of Fraser's narrative.
"No, only when you ask him about how he came to Chicago." Meg leaned back, nibbling a Nutter Butter.
"Oh, I didn't know I would be opening the flood gates." Clara shifted, wishing she could get out of her dress shoes and into her fluffy house shoes.
"Ben actually doesn't talk all that much, but what he does say has an impact." Meg stated, her voice dreamy as she sipped her tea.
"Meg, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, do you think you could take me to your apartment so that I can rest a while before dinner?" Clara slipped her feet out of her shoes and wiggled her toes. She'd been gussied up far too long to suit her. The Mountie's mother didn't know how her daughter withstood eight, long hours in a business ensemble and heels.
"Sure, as soon as Ben gets back I'll take the afternoon off, my feet are tired too." Meg slipped out of her shoes and wiggled her toes beside her mother's. When Ben walked back into the office he saw both women stretching their bare feet out before them.
"Oh dear." He turned and went back out into the hallway, blush flooding his face. Meg and Clara both burst out laughing, tears running down their cheeks.
"He really is something, sweetie." Clara pulled a handkerchief out of her sweater sleeve and dabbed at her eyes.
"Yeah, now if I could just figure out what." Meg's shoulders quaked with laughter as tears ran in sooty trails down her cheeks from her mascara.
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