A Saturday Visit
 
Author: Linda Wilson AKA ranapipens4ever (rana pipens = bullfrog–love
frogs!)

E-mail: linda_31467@msn.com

Rated: PG-13–some strong language

Premise: Janet Dillon hypothesized that Nick visited F&A several
times as a child and possibly as an adolescent. I think such a visit
could have gone one of two ways; one follows. I'm working on the
other one, but happiness doesn't come easily to the Fallin family.

Disclaimer: Burton, Anne and Nicholas Fallin are all taken directly
from "The Guardian," as are their house on Parker Street and
Burton's offices in the Frick Building. Peter Carmody and Burton's
secretary, Carolyn Cole (a predecessor of Sheila and Gretchen) are my
own creation. Resemblance to any person living or dead is purely
coincidental; similarity of events, dates, characters or the
portrayal of events is unintentional. The garden is imaginary; the
toads that live there are real.


Thanks to Suzanne Moore for the beta read and making me look
intelligent.
 

--+--
 
 
Anne Fallin stared at her husband. "What do you mean you can't make
it? We planned this three weeks ago!"

"Keep your voice down–I have a client I'm trying to land in the
conference room." Burton Fallin tried to keep his irritation at being
interrupted out of his voice and failed.

"Wonderful. I have a little boy who's been waiting to go to lunch and
spend a Saturday afternoon out with Daddy and Mommy sitting right
outside at your secretary's desk. What do I tell him?"

"This just came up a little while ago and it looks like it's going
to fall right into my lap. Do you know how much in billable hours
I'll be able to rack up if I can get Sorenson Aeronautics?"

"Do you know how much your son has been looking forward to this? Do
you know how much I have?"

"I'm sorry, Anne. It just can't be helped–I need this client."

"I hope you land him, it, them–whatever. But you have a wife and a
son who need you, too."

"Anne, you knew when you married me that I didn't work nine-to-five–
damn few lawyers do. And we talked about this when I started the
firm. It's been a long, hard struggle, and it isn't over yet and if
this firm is going to make it, I'm going to have to break an
occasional lunch date with you and the kid now and then."

"In case you've forgotten, `the kid' has a name. And he has a father
he'd like to see during the daytime once in a while."

"Damn it, Anne, who do you think I'm doing this for?"

"I think you're doing it for you, Burton. This has been coming for a
long time. You want Fallin and Associates to be the biggest corporate
law firm in Pittsburgh. Fine. But be careful–you may find it's not
worth the price."

"What price?"

"Burton, what you're letting get away from you now is something
you'll never be able to get back. You'll never be able to do it over
again, either. And you're going to regret it if you try. "

"Anne, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Now, I wonder why that doesn't surprise me." Anne cast a cold look
at her husband as she retrieved her purse from beside her chair. She
stood up and smoothed her skirt, acknowledging defeat. "All right.
Nicky and I will find something else to do without Daddy–just like
the last four or five times we planned something like this."

Burton opened one of the double doors of his office for her and she
swept out past him. Burton followed and closed the door behind him.
Their seven-year-old son was seated in Burton's secretary's chair
drawing on a piece of paper with a felt-tip marker the secretary had
supplied. Burton squatted at the chair to bring himself to his son's
eye level. "Hey, Nicholas," he said.

"Daddy!" The little boy's face lit up. "Can we go now?"

"Well, son, I'm afraid not. I have to talk to some people."

Nicholas Fallin's lower lip drooped, but even at seven years old he
knew a plea or an argument wouldn't change anything. "Okay." The
undertone of sadness was audible to Anne, but Burton missed it.

"That's all right, then." With some difficulty owing to the position
he had assumed, Burton extracted his wallet and pulled out a twenty-
dollar bill. He folded it over and tucked it in the breast pocket of
his son's shirt. "Here you go, champ. You and your mother have a good
time today. We'll all do something together someday soon, I promise."
He stood up and patted his son on the shoulder. "See you back home."

As his father went into the conference room and closed the door Nick
capped the marker. "Thank you, Miss Cole," he said to his father's
secretary.

"Any time, honey," Carolyn Cole, Burton's secretary, said. She picked
up the drawing. "Can I keep this?"

"Sure," Nick said.

"Nicky, the proper answer is `Of course, you may,' not `Sure'," Anne
said.

"Of course, you may, Miss Cole," Nicky parroted dutifully.

"Thank you so much, Nicky," Cheryl replied with a warm smile.

Anne took her son's hand. "We'll get out of your way now. Thanks for
keeping an eye on him, Carolyn."

"I'm happy to," Carolyn replied. "He's a delightful little boy to
have around, Mrs. Fallin."

"I'm glad someone thinks so," Anne said. "Come on, Nicky. Goodby,
Carolyn."

"Goodby, Miss Cole," Nick chimed in.

"Goodby, Mrs. Fallin, goodby, Nick," Carolyn replied. "Have a nice
afternoon."

****************

Outside the Frick Building, Anne hesitated for a moment. "Nicky, I'll
bet you're ready for some lunch," she said.

"I guess so," Nick replied listlessly.

"How about McDonald's?"

A meal at McDonald's was a rare treat in Nick Fallin's young life,
owing to his mother's strong ideas about the inimical nature of fast
food, but his disappointment at the broken promise of lunch with
Daddy was so great that the most enthusiastic response he could
muster was "Okay."

"There's one on Smithfield Street. It's not far." She took her son's
hand and they turned their steps southward.

Nick played idly with the toy in a Happy Meal while Anne picked at
her fries. "Nicky," she said suddenly after a swift sip of her
Tab, "promise me something."

"What, Mommy?"

"Promise me you'll grow up to treat other people–women especially,
but all other people–better than your father does."

"Sure–I mean, yes, Mommy."

"Good." She patted his hand.

Lunch over, mother and son left the restaurant. As they stood on the
sidewalk, Anne tried to think what to do with an intelligent, curious
seven-year-old that wouldn't tire him, or herself, too much and would
still make up to some degree for the attention he wasn't getting from
his father. While she could always do some shopping–Nicky seemed to
outgrow something almost every month–it wasn't exactly the kind of
outing a little boy would enjoy. A movie? What was playing that she
considered suitable entertainment for a child his age? A park? Not
much in downtown Pittsburgh's green spaces for a child.

"Why, hello, Anne," a man's pleasant voice interrupted her reverie.

"Peter Carmody! How nice to see you," Anne replied to a tall man with
a shock of black hair and deep-set brown eyes. He had been walking up
Smithfield Street when he had spotted the wife and son of his fellow
member of the Pennsylvania bar. "Nicky, say `how do you do' to Mr.
Carmody."

"How do you do, sir," Nick said, putting out his hand.

"How do you do, young man," Carmody replied, secretly delighting in
the gravity of the little boy's manner as he shook hands. He turned
his attention back to the boy's mother. "Are you two here on business
or shopping or what?"

"We had plans, but they fell through," Anne replied. "We're sort of
at loose ends about how we'll spend the rest of the afternoon."

"Hm. There's a new dinosaur exhibit at the Children's Museum,"
Carmody said.

"I read about that," Anne said. "It isn't open yet, is it?"

"There's a special showing for the trustees. I'm a trustee," Carmody
said. "Think young Nicky here would enjoy it?"

"Well–Nicky, would you like to see the new exhibit at the Children's
Museum?"

"Sure–I mean, yes, Mommy, yes, Mr. Carmody."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Carmody," Anne prompted.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Carmody," Nick complied.

"Great!" Carmody said. "My car's in the lot over here, so let's
drive. It's a long walk for a young fellow."

The new dinosaur exhibit provided a number of opportunities for a
little boy to get some hands-on experience in a variety of ways and
Nick tried them all. Anne watched her son scamper about happily and
reflected that Nicky seemed to have gotten over his earlier
disappointment. "Peter, this is wonderful," she said at the end of
three hours. "I can't thank you enough."

"Hey, just watching him have a good time is all the thanks I want,"
Carmody said lightly. He dropped his voice. "I hope his mother had a
good time, too."

"I certainly did. It's so kind of you." She looked at her
wristwatch. "It's getting late. I'd better think about getting my son
home and ready for dinner and bedtime."

"I'll drive you."

"Oh, no, Peter–it's out of your way and you've done more than enough
already."

"Nonsense, Anne. It's my pleasure."

They stopped in the museum shop on the way out and Nick at his
mother's suggestion used the $20 bill his father had tucked in his
pocket to buy himself a dinosaur diorama kit and a book about
prehistoric life. He chattered excitedly about them both as Carmody
led the way to his car.

The drive to Parker Street was over too soon, Anne thought. She and
Peter Carmody had chatted idly about a number of people they knew and
some other things while Nicky quieted down and then dozed in the back
seat. It had been nice to have an adult conversation that didn't
center around groceries, suits at the dry cleaners, Nicky's teacher
or the firm, Anne thought. "Can I ask you in for a cup of coffee?
It's not much after the nice afternoon you gave us," she said as
Carmody pulled up in front of the modest white house.

"Some other time–you'll be wanting to get young Nick here his supper
and into bed," Carmody said.

"Yes," Anne said. Carmody opened the rear passenger door and Anne
reached in and shook her son's shoulder gently. "Nicky, we're home,"
she said. Her son sat up, rubbed his eyes and got out of the car.

"Don't forget your things," Carmody said, handing the plastic bag
imprinted with the museum logo to the boy.

"Thank you, Mr. Carmody," Nick said, earning an approving look from
his mother.

"Let's keep in touch," Carmody said to Anne as they headed up the
walk a few steps behind Nicholas.

"I'd like that," Anne said. They had reached the front door and Anne
took out her key.

"Well–here's my card." He produced one, turned it over, took a
ballpoint from his pocket and wrote something on the reverse. "That's
my unlisted number. Call me any time."

"I'll do that," Anne said. She unlocked the door and Nick went
inside. She turned to Carmody."Thanks again for a wonderful
afternoon," she said.

"The pleasure was entirely mine," Carmody answered. He turned and
went down the steps and the walk to his car as Anne entered the house
and closed the door.

*********

Burton came home well after 10 p.m. carrying a large box and a bunch
of flowers. "Where's Nicholas?" he asked Anne.

"In bed, where he belongs. He's been asleep for the past hour and a
half," Ann replied.

"Oh. Well, I had Carolyn get that Hotwheels set he wanted. And here–"
he presented the flowers–roses and cyclamens–to her with a flourish.

"Thank you," Anne replied tonelessly.

"I landed Sorenson. That's going to make a big difference in a lot of
ways."

"I'm sure it will," Anne said. She walked out to the kitchen, opened
a cupboard and took out a vase. Burton, who had followed her, watched
as she put the flowers in water.

"I'm really sorry I couldn't make it this afternoon, but this was
important," Burton said.

"Um-hmm."

"Look, I promised Nicholas we'd do something together soon–and we
will."

"Since you've reneged at least the last four or five times we had
something like this scheduled, I'm sure you'll excuse him if he
doesn't place a lot of credence in what you tell him."

"Oh, come on, Anne." Burton raked his fingers through his hair and
rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.

"Burton, just how many times do you think you can pull out of a
promise at the last minute? Children get tired of being disappointed
time after time, of broken promises. So they turn off to the promises
to avoid feeling the pain. That's what happened today."

"Is that what they taught you in all those early childhood
development courses you took in college?"

"Yes, but I didn't have to learn it in college to know it's true. And
some day you're going to find out just how true it is." She turned to
face him. "Do you know what Nicky asked me when I was putting him to
bed tonight? He said `Mommy, does Daddy really love us?' It's the
first time in his life my son asked me a question I didn't answer
truthfully."

"What did you say?"

"I said `Of course he does,' but I'm not sure I believed it, and I'm
not sure he did, either."

"You told him the truth. Of course I love you–both of you. But just
what the hell am I supposed to do? Let a client who's going to
generate at least two hundred thousand dollars in billable hours over
the next three years go across the street to Kirk and McGee?"

"Burton, I want you to succeed. I want the firm to succeed. But it
would be nice if once in a while you remembered you have a family and
we deserve a little of your time, too."

"Okay, fine. I'll put the damn Hotwheels together and we can play
with it tomorrow."

"Yes, you do that." Ann started out of the kitchen. At the door she
turned. "I had a long day myself. I'm going to bed."

Upstairs in the master bedroom Anne took off her wedding and
engagement rings and put them on the ring stand on her night table.
She took Carmody's card out of her purse and looked at it for a very
long time, then put the card back in her purse and the purse in her
closet. She went on getting ready for bed. The day had the feeling of
a turning point, in just what way she wasn't really sure. Only time
would tell.
 

The End