Sunday, March 11th, 1956

1:55 p.m.

As Carol walked down the sidewalk, she glanced over at Therese who was hunched over trotting down West 58th beside her. With hands shoved deep into her pockets and desperately trying to stay warm in the frigid temperatures, she concentrated on the sidewalk to make sure she didn't slip on any ice. Again. There was hardly anyone else out and about in the cold weather.

"Did he say anything else over the phone?" Therese asked Carol for a third time that day.

"No, just 'come for late lunch,'" Carol replied. "Probably so it's less likely for him to bump into anyone he knows. Plus he specifically asked you to come along as well."

"Why? I won't say anything."

"I don't know. 'Come for late lunch.'"

At the last couple steps before the restaurant door, Therese scurried ahead to open the door for Carol. She always seemed to be the one who held the door; not that she minded at all. The maître d' looked the two of them over, all bundled up from the cold and offered to take their coats. "Name?"

"Aird."

"Yes, he's already here. This way, please."

They walked to the back of the restaurant, past some potted palms and an inviting window overlooking the practically vacant street. When Harge saw Carol and Therese approach, he stood up and pulled out their chairs. Carol immediately glanced over at Therese, who had an equally incredulous look on her face, nonetheless, sat down on the plush green velvet chair.

"Thank you both for coming."

Meeting up with Harge brought back all those awful feelings from four years earlier, getting slapped with an injunction before Christmas, the private detective, the psychotherapist, the months of denial. All those memories that Carol had worked so hard at putting behind her. Now, she sat across from her ex-husband, and beside her, Therese, in a situation she never thought she would find herself in.

"Carol, I know what you're thinking," Harge said, "so don't."

"What am I to expect, Harge?" Carol pulled out her cigarette case and lighter, placing them on the table between her and Therese. "We don't exactly have the finest history when it comes to our little tête-à-têtes."

Harge was quiet right away, slowly nodding his head in agreement. There was something in his demeanor that struck Carol, something very off about the man she had known for nearly twenty years. He was calmer, more composed, more thoughtful than she had ever seen him before. "You look wonderful, Carol. You always have. And really, well, you know... happy."

"You can thank Therese for that." she softly noted with a nod in Therese's direction. Harge again nodded. "And you?"

He took a deep breath and picked up the menu sitting by the glass of ice water. "We'll get to that."

"Harge - "

"No, we're going to have lunch. The three of us. And then we're going to talk. Like adults. All of us together."

"Suddenly I'm not hungry." Carol said as she pulled a cigarette from her case. She offered one to Therese who declined.

"Me either." Therese quietly was too busy trying to decipher what Harge was getting at.

"Please, have something, Carol. I still remember you don't eat breakfast on Sundays and even then you have barely some lunch after one, and it's almost two, so I know you're starving."

"He has a point." Therese reluctantly agreed with Harge.

Carol lit her cigarette and then reluctantly picked up her menu to peruse her options. "Alright then. Shall we get some wine at least?" As soon as Carol picked up the wine list from the center of the table, Harge immediately held out his hand to take it only to be bypassed for Therese's outstretched hands, more than eager to have a look at the offerings. "Therese knows her wines."

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Somewhere between the cheese plate and the dessert tray, Harge started to get impatient. He had been patiently sitting before Carol and Therese, not saying much other than talk about Rindy and his own parents mishaps, but now he simply wanted to get down to the real issue. There was a lull in the conversation between the three of them. Therese was nursing her third glass of wine, Carol was fiddling with her rose gold bracelet, twirling her finger around her right wrist beneath the metal in an incessant loop.

"Cancer." Harge blurted out. "Terminal."

It was all Harge said on the matter. He didn't need to repeat himself because he knew the two ladies across from him had heard the one word despite their lack of attention before he had even spoken. Carol stopped twirling the bracelet around her wrist, and slowly reached down to grasp Therese's hand that rested in her lap beneath the table. She also reached across to Harge and covered his hand with hers. Carol didn't move, didn't react any further than by taking Harge's hand in hers.

He rubbed his thumb over her knuckle and let out the deep breath he had been holding in since he spoke that one word. It was then that he noticed the ring, not the simple golden one he had given her all those years ago, but a rose gold band that matched the other jewelry Carol wore. Harge immediately recognized what it was, what exactly it meant, and tightened his hand around Carol's as best he could muster along with a soft smile.

Therese spoke first as Carol was too in shock to verbalize any of her thoughts. "Mr. Aird, I'm sorry." Therese merely lowered her eyes and solemnly looked down at their intertwined fingers in her lap.

"But - are you sure?"

"Yes," he sighed. "I wanted both of you here so we can talk about Rindy and what's best for her."

"Of course." Carol agreed.

"I want her to live with you," Harge bluntly stated, "both of you." Therese squinted, unable to turn from looking at him, and having a difficult time believing anything she had heard thus far that day.

"My parents are getting older, they want to travel and do their own thing; they don't need the responsibility of raising a child now that they're in their seventies. They wouldn't be there for Rindy like you could be, and frankly," Harge let go of Carol's hand and threw his arms into the air, "I don't want them raising her. I don't want her shuffled off to a nanny or my sister or some far off boarding school, growing up alone and possibly neglected after I'm gone. Mother isn't going to like it, but, that's too damn bad."

Therese was fairly certain Harge saw the look on her face and noticed how her breath hitched as she recalled her own isolated childhood, growing up in a boarding school, away from her mother, utterly abandoned from the age of eight onward. She couldn't possibly imagine Rindy living like that: How awful she would feel knowing her mother and herself were happily residing in the city while she could possibly be forced to be so close yet so far away. Rindy was now Therese's age when she had been "shipped off," and understood all too well those feelings.

"Four years ago, you'd have never said that," Carol coldly stated.

"Try four weeks ago. May I?" Harge gestured to the cigarette case still resting between Carol and Therese, still nervous as he spoke so openly. Therese opened the case to offer him one and Carol held out the lighter.

"You've always been an outstanding mother to Rindy, and I am so sorry for trying to keep her from you. I am even more sorry that you have missed so much in the past years: her first day of school, her first missing tooth, her first sleepover with friends. Please, understand me when I say I am deeply, deeply sorry.

"I'm even more ashamed that I started to miss those things too because of work and travel. You know how I used to be able to drop everything and be there for Rindy; well, responsibilities changed. I didn't tell you. I didn't want to admit to you that I couldn't do it all myself. I just haven't been able to be around her as much as I anticipated. Had I not been so selfish keeping her from you, you would have at least been there when I couldn't be. Sadly, neither of us can get that time back."

Harge took a deep drag of the cigarette hanging from his lips, followed by an intense bout of coughing into a napkin. Therese said nothing, merely watched as Harge smoked and Carol contemplated taking another cigarette from the case. As Carol reached for the case, Therese darted her free hand to the top of hers, not caring if they were out in public, and pulled her hand from the metal box. "Not now." Therese whispered.

Harge started smiling, remembering something else. "Actually, every single time Rindy has returned from a visit with you two, she's the happiest little girl, Carol. She brags about the books you read to each other, going for walks in the park or how you baked cookies." Harge was beginning to get teary thinking about it, taking puffs of his cigarette whenever he was too overcome with the thoughts.

"And Therese, Rindy really adores you, especially when you take photos together and work on your photo album. You know," Harge laughed, "she has tons of photos the two of you took on her bedroom wall. All photos of you and Carol, all the places the three of you visited together around the city."

"She does?" Therese did her best to hold back tears, so happy that Rindy cherished the time they spent together and wanted to be surrounded by it.

"Yeah, she loves looking at them." Harge was beaming just thinking about his daughter coming home from a weekend with Carol and Therese, endlessly talking about how much fun they had and presenting her father with a pile of photos from their last adventure together.

Then he also remembered one time, maybe when Rindy was five or six, she came home from school: sullen, sad, and exhausted. When Harge asked what was wrong, Rindy said she brought her train set's engine in for Show & Tell, and talking about it made her miss her Mommy and Therese, who at that point, she probably hadn't seen in over two months.

Carol's eyes were full of tears, about ready to burst and let her mascara run down her cheeks. She reached into her purse looking for a handkerchief, and when finally finding one among the many items inside, dabbed the corners of her eyes as best she could. "Are you sure about all this, Harge?"

He wiped his eyes and nodded. "I've given this a lot of thought, and it's best for Rindy. She needs to be in a home where she knows she's loved; you know, with her mother and - " Harge looked at Therese with a smile, not entirely sure what to say, but honestly trying his best to express himself, " - and, you, uh, Therese. Kind of, two mothers, I guess you can say." he chuckled. "In all seriousness though, I know you two love each other. I don't understand it entirely, maybe I do now, I mean, I understand love and what it is to love someone. It's clear you love each other and most importantly you love Rindy."

Harge spent the next hour explaining his plan for Rindy, education, responsibilities, expenses, and then making sure everything was arranged for her eventual transition to Madison Avenue. He would go to his lawyer and to Carol's to finalize the agreements over the following weeks.

Carol had a difficult time listening: It was so much to take in. Therese was able to discreetly hold her hand beneath the table and stroke her thumb back and forth over the tiniest patch of skin to keep her calm.

"How long have the doctors given you?" Carol inquired.

"A few months, maybe half a year; it'll all depend on my reaction to the treatment. I'm hoping to make it through to the end of the school year. For Rindy's sake. It'll be easier for her to move and change schools that way." Harge hung his head low, breathing deeply, then coughing.

"If you need anything, you know we're just around the corner."

He nodded again and sighed. As he got up from his seat, Harge pulled his coat tighter around himself and adjusted his hat, then gave Carol a kiss on the cheek, and then paused before shaking Therese's hand, hesitating for a moment, and then also leaned giving her a kiss. They politely smiled and the three of them looked at each other one more time. He quickly left, heading back in the direction of Fifth Avenue.

Carol and Therese could not have possibly imagined that this would be their day and the start of a new future for the two of them and Rindy.

July 3, 1956

9:27 p.m.

"Carol? Phone for you."