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“I saw an article somewhere about an NYPD homicide detective. I think his name was Michael Bennett. Have you ever heard of him?”
Tom’s face lit up. “Everyone’s heard of Michael Bennett. He’s hot shit. He used to be on the hostage negotiation team, and he’s the one who solved the case where all the hostages were taken at the First Lady’s funeral.”
“I remember that. Do you know him personally?”
Tom shook his head. “I’ve seen him around a couple of times. He’s got a great reputation. And he’s kind of famous for having ten adopted children as well.”
That was information Alex could use. She smiled and took a sip from her glass of Chardonnay. This was turning out to be a great date.
Chapter 53
I struck out at the first couple of addresses for my potential suspects. I decided to call it a day and get home at a reasonable hour, though I wasn’t nearly as tired and sore as I had been. I was finally starting to heal.
I wasn’t greeted by young children right at the front door. That rarely happened. As I stepped into the entryway that led to the living room, I was surprised by another man in the house. It took me a minute to register his face.
He smiled, stuck out his hand, and said, “Hello, Mr. Bennett.”
I stammered, “Carter, how nice to see you. I didn’t know you were coming over.” I could be polite, even to a twenty-six-year-old man dating my eighteen-year-old daughter. I was still surprised to see him in my home.
Just then, Mary Catherine hustled around the corner and said, “You see we have a guest for dinner tonight. Your grandfather couldn’t make it, and Juliana thought it’d be nice for Carter to meet the family.”
“Yeah, sure. It’s great.” I tried to put some enthusiasm in my voice but failed.
The young man melted back into the living room to talk to Trent.
Mary Catherine stepped into the hallway and gave me a look that simultaneously said, I’m sorry and Don’t say a single mean word to that boy.
I nodded in acknowledgment. She seemed satisfied and disappeared to supervise the process of setting the table and getting dinner ready.
Once we’d said grace and everyone had been served, Chrissy, who was sitting next to Carter, looked at him with her innocent eyes and said, “You are old.”
I coughed up a little water trying to stifle a laugh. Mary Catherine looked horrified, and Juliana spoke up.
“That’s not very polite, Chrissy.”
Mary Catherine changed the subject and got Juliana talking about the production.
She said, “We’re going to have our first media interviews in the next few days. Someone is supposed to come by the set and take some photographs and interview us for an e
ntertainment magazine.”
Bridget perked up. “Like Entertainment Weekly?”
“Something like that.”
Fiona chimed in. “What’s the magazine called?”
Juliana hesitated, but Carter said, “The Brooklyn Studio Newsletter.”
Mary Catherine quickly said, “That’s wonderful. It’s so exciting. I could really see things coming together when I visited the set.”
I listened to the evening unfold. I understood that I had to get used to the idea of the dating world. I mean, I have six daughters, for Christ’s sake. But the idea of this good-looking, midtwenties millennial dating my oldest daughter bothered me.
It made me think of all the stories I’d heard from other cops who had chased off boyfriends for one reason or another. My favorite was from a sergeant in Queens who answered the door with no shirt on and a badge pinned through his bare chest. That was hard-core. I needed to take another route.
I said, “Carter, what are your acting goals?”
All actors, like writers, love to talk about their future. To most of them, that future doesn’t factor in family or romance.
