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us?”
    “I was up. I’m surprised there’s so
much to clean up, leaving this place.”
    “The new apartment is nice. Roomy. We even have a dining
room.” He kicked off his shoes. “Lovely. I’m planning to come up at the end of
the week.”
    “Tell me when the train arrives, and
I’ll meet you at the station.”
    “That’s not necessary. I can catch a
cab.”
    “You don’t know your way around
here. It can be confusing at first.” He rubbed his eyes with his free hand.
    “I’m not a child, Grant. I’ll get
there.”
    “Okay, okay. I don’t mean to be
insulting, Evelyn. Does that mean you’ll be here for dinner on Friday?”
    “Haven’t checked the train schedule.
Save some food for me, just in case.”
    “I’ll tell Jane.”
    “She’s still there?”
    He heard the edgy tone in her voice.
“She’s helping with Sarah.”
    “Right. Well, see you then. ’Night.”
    The line went dead before he had a
chance to sign off. Conversations just keep
getting shorter and chillier. It’s sliding away with her. I can’t stop it.
Perhaps it’s best. Feeling restless, Grant pushed off his bed and wandered
into the living room. The lights of New York drew him to the window. Amazing view from here. He stood,
staring, trying to figure out what was happening to his life.
    When he saw the thousands of tiny
lights, he knew his problems were small change in such a big city. Little people struggling with our lives. I
made my bed. I married her. I’ve tried to be a good husband, but I stink. Guess
I’m not husband material. How long must I live like this? He put his head
in his hands. The realization that he was one of millions of people here, many
who were probably just as desperately unhappy as he, didn’t comfort him.
    He plopped down on the sofa,
exhausted and drained. Hopelessness washed over him, making his eyelids, and
his whole body, droop. Jane came out from the kitchen.
    “Did you talk to Evelyn?” She wiped
her hands on her apron.
    He nodded, his dark orbs clouded.
    “Finally. You haven’t been speaking
to her much.” She joined him, leaning back into the soft cushions of the new
beige, butter-soft, leather couch.
    “Less and less. Maybe it’s for the
best.” He sighed.
    “Something’s up with her.”
    “Guess we’ll find out at the end of
the week.” He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair.
    “Oh?”
    “She’s coming on Friday.” He pushed
to his feet.
    “Good. A thirty-eight year old man
in his prime should have a loving woman at his side.”
    He smiled at his sister. “Goodnight,
Sis.” He stretched his long arms above his head, extending his
five-foot-ten-inch frame. A loving woman
at my side. I wish.

 
    * * * *

 
    “Come on, dad, we’ll be late!” Sarah
tugged on her father’s sleeve.
    Grant grabbed his briefcase and let
his daughter drag him through the door. He chuckled at her determined attitude. So much like Carol Anne. He took
Sarah’s hand and buttoned his jacket against the crisp, October morning air.
Leaves still clinging to the trees in Central Park were turning a cornucopia of
colors, ranging from brilliant gold, the color of the sun, to glowing orange
and deep russet.
    The shifting of the seasons mirrored
the shifting in Grant’s life. A sense of being on automatic pilot, stumbling
along where life dragged him, had frustrated him. Always a man in control of
his professional life, this helplessness in his personal life made him angry. Evelyn, be my wife all the way or leave me.
    He shook his head to clear out the
worry and disturbing thoughts so he could focus his attention on his daughter.
    “Mrs. Wilner doesn’t like us to be late. Besides, they lock the gate, and you have to go all
the way around to the front. Then you’re even laterer then…”
    They walked past a row of eclectic
brownstones—each painted a different color, with distinctive, wrought-iron
front doors. Several people were walking their dogs, weaving in and out of the
families