Chistmas In Manhattan Collection. Alison Roberts
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his notoriously private firstborn son taking over as chief of the ER at Manhattan Mercy in the manner of the best dynasties. He’s become something of a recluse since the tragic death of his wife but it looks as though he’s finally moving on. And isn’t it a treat to get a peek at his adorable twin sons?
We see his own twin brother Elijah more than any of the family members, with his penchant for attending every important party, and with a different woman on his arm every time. Their sister Penelope is a celebrated daredevil and the youngest brother, Zachary, is reportedly returning to the family fold very soon, in more ways than one. He has resigned from the Navy and will be adding his medical skills to the Davenport team at Manhattan Mercy. Watch this space for more news later.
And the love child, Miranda? Well...she’s so much a part of the family now she’s also a doctor and it’s no surprise that she’s working in exactly the same place.
Are the New York Davenports an example of what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger? Or is it just window dressing...?
Charles stopped reading as the article went on to focus on Vanessa Davenport’s recent philanthropic endeavours. His mother was still talking—about a fundraising luncheon she was supposed to be attending in a matter of hours.
‘How can I go? There’ll be reporters everywhere and intrusive questions. But, if I don’t go, it’ll just fuel speculation. Everybody will be talking about it.’
‘Just ignore it,’ Charles advised. ‘Keep your head high, smile and say “No comment”. It’ll die down. It always does.’
He could hear the weary sigh on the other end of the line.
‘I’m so sick of it. We’ve all been through enough. Haven’t we?’
‘Mmm.’ Charles rubbed his forehead with his fingers. ‘I have to go, Mom. The boys are waking up and we need to get ready. It’s the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade today and we’ll have to get there early to find a good place to watch. I’ll see you tonight.’
* * *
It should have been such a happy day.
Some of Charles’s earliest memories were of the sheer wonder of this famous parade. Of being in a privileged viewing position with his siblings, bundled up against the cold, jumping up and down with the amazement of every new sight and adding his own contribution to the cacophony of sound—the music and cheers and squeals of excitement—that built and built until the finale they were all waiting for when Santa Claus in his sleigh being pulled by reindeer with spectacular gilded antlers would let them know that the excitement wasn’t over. Christmas was coming...
This was the first year that Cameron and Max were old enough to appreciate the spectacle and not be frightened by the crowds and noise. They were well bundled up in their coats and mittens and hats and their little faces were shining with excitement. They found a spot on Central Park West, not far from one of their favourite playgrounds, and Charles held a twin on each hip, giving them a clear view over the older children in front of them.
The towering balloons sailed past. Superman and Spiderman and Muppets and Disney characters. There was a brass band with its members dressed like tin soldiers and people on stilts that looked like enormous candy canes with their striped costumes and the handles on their tall hats. There were clowns and jugglers and dancers and they kept coming. Charles’s arms began to ache with the weight of the twins and their joyous wriggling.
He wasn’t going to put them down. This was his job. Supporting his boys. Protecting them. And he could cope. The three of them would always cope. The happiness that today should have provided was clouded for Charles, though. He could feel an echo that reminded him of his mother’s heavy sigh earlier this morning.
That it was starting again. The media interest that could become like a searchlight, illuminating so many things that were best left in the shade now. Things that were nobody else’s business. Putting them out there for others to speculate on only made things so much harder to deal with.
He could still feel the pain of photographs that had been put on public display in the aftermath of the family scandal breaking. Of the snippets of gossip, whether true or not, that had been raked over. The fresh wave of interest in the days after Nina’s death had been even worse as he’d struggled to deal with his own grief. Seeing that photograph that had been taken at their engagement party, with Nina looking so stunning in her white designer gown, proudly showing off the famed Davenport, pink diamond ring, had been like a kick in the guts.
What if that photograph surfaced again now, with gossip mills cranking up at the notion that he’d found a new partner? Grace was nothing like Nina, who’d been part of the kind of society he’d grown up in. Nina had been well used to being in the public eye. Grace was someone who kept herself in the background, working as part of a team in her job where the centre stage was always taken by the person needing her help.
Or making two small boys happy by baking cookies and trashing his kitchen...
She would be appalled at any media interest. She’d as much as told him how she wouldn’t be able to cope.
‘I can’t imagine what it must have been like. Life can be difficult enough without having your privacy invaded like that. I couldn’t think of anything worse...’
The cloud settled even more heavily over Charles as the real implications hit him.
He knew her story now. That she had been broken by the reaction of the man who had been her husband to the battle she’d had to fight. That she’d actually hidden herself from the world to come to terms with being made to feel less than loveable. Ugly, even...
He hadn’t even noticed her scars last night. Not as anything that detracted from her beauty, anyway. If anything, they added to it because they were a mark of her astonishing courage and strength.
But he knew exactly how vulnerable she could still be, despite that strength.
As vulnerable as his younger siblings had been when the ‘love child’ scandal had broken. He’d learned how to shut things down then, in order to protect them.
Maybe he needed to call on those skills again now.
To protect Grace. He could imagine the devastating effect if the spotlight was turned on her. If someone thought to find images of what mastectomy scars looked like, perhaps, and coupled it with headline bait like Is this why her husband left her?
He couldn’t let that happen.
He wouldn’t let that happen.
He had to protect his boys, too.
They weren’t just old enough to appreciate this parade now. They knew—and loved—the new person who had come into their lives. Someone who was as happy as he was to stand in the cold and watch them run and climb in a playground. Who baked cookies with them and fell asleep on the couch with them cuddled beside her.
He wouldn’t be the only one to be left with a dark place if she vanished from their lives.
What about that different perspective he’d found the day after the twins’ birthday, when he’d known that he wouldn’t want his boys growing up without a dad, if the tragedy had been reversed? That he wouldn’t have wanted Nina to have a restricted, celibate life?
It was all spiralling out of control. His feelings for Grace. How close they had suddenly become. The threat of having his private life picked over by emotional vultures, thanks to media interest and having important things damaged beyond repair.
Yes. He needed to remember lessons learned. That control could be regained eventually if things could be ignored. He had done this before but this time he could do it better. He was responsible and he was old enough and wise enough this time around not to make the same mistakes.
He had to choose each step with great care. And the first step was to narrow his focus to what was most important.
And he was holding that in his arms.
‘Show’s almost