Good Enough	 

Disclaimer: Not my characters, but I'll take 'em if they're ever on offer.
They belong to Alliance, et al. Please don't sue me, and please don't
reprint without my permission. 

And no, it doesn't have any connection to Sarah McLachlan except for a
shared title. 

 Good Enough 

Looking across the street at her son as he stood rigidly at attention,
Caroline Fraser smiled softly. His hair under the hat was not as dark as
hers, and she knew the hat shaded eyes as pale as his father's rather than
dark like her own. 

"Looks good, doesn't he?" Bob asked from her side. she quietly agreed, but
privately she thought her husband was the one who looked good. He was
casually dressed, having forsaken his uniforms for civilian clothes. He
always did so for her, and she studied how the blues and greens of his
shirt contributed a richness to his eyes. It wasn't that she disliked him
in uniform, but sometimes she preferred having him completely to herself,
preferred him to be Bob rather than Sergeant Fraser, she thought as she
watched him observe their son. 

Dead he might be, but he was still handsome. Gazing at him still made her
phantom heart pick up pace. The years had treated Bob well. His hair had
grayed, he'd put on a few pounds, but Caroline still thought him the most
attractive man she'd ever known. Not that she would ever tell him so. With
his ego, she preferred to remind him now and again that he hadn't been the
only man--or even Mountie--in consideration. She linked her arm with his
and smiled intimately up at him. She thought of that day north of
Destruction Bay, and said, "He looks like you did nearly forty years ago."


Her husband's fond, proud smile said more than words wever could--not that
that ever stopped him. They watched their son in silence. 

"That's her," Bob said suddenly, gesturing at a slim young woman exiting
the consulate. Caroline studied the inspector. She noted the other woman's
beauty, her dark eyes and hair. Dressed in a business suit with a short
skirt and low-heeled pumps, the inspector snapped something at Ben before
crossing the sidewalk to the curb. "Ben's friend--Vecchio--calls her 'The
Dragon Lady.'" 

While the other woman waited for her car, Caroline wondered, *Does she
ever smile?* Ben needed someone who smiled, someone who would bring
sunshine and laughter into his life. From the hard, grim features of the
young inspector, Caroline doubted she could do so. 

"How serious is he?" she asked her husband. 

"I don't know," Bob replied. "He's kissed her, taken her out at least
once, and demonstrated jealousy at seeing her with someone else." 

Caroline nodded slowly and took note of the young woman's bulging
briefcase. No, this wouldn't do. Ben needed someone to distract him from
work so he wouldn't see living and duty as somehow synonymous. His
inspector looked like the sort who never really left work, the kind who
took reports home to read through a pre-packaged, preprocessed meal and
again in bed before turning out the lights for precisely eight hours of
sleep. No, she thought, as she watched the inspector enter a car and drive
away, she would not do at all. 

"Show me the next one, Bob," she said. 

He took her to the District 27 precinct. The only woman Caroline saw was a
blonde in a Lieutenant Welsh's office. She squinted and attempted to
lip-read the obvious reprimand the woman issued to the seated man. *Oh,
dear,* she thought. *Why does Ben choose such authoritative women?* 

"Not her," Bob laughed from behind. He grasped Caroline's shoulders and
gently turned her a quarter-turn to the left. "Her." 

She was pretty, Caroline allowed. Long, curling, dark hair and dark eyes.
Petite, which could be an advantage, Caroline mused. Men seemed to like
small women. The uniform didn't suit the younger woman, and she thought it
a shame the civilian aide couldn't wear street clothes. Surely she didn't
need the uniform, and so few of the precinct's other occupants wore them. 

"What does Benton think?" she asked, facing her husband. 

Bob shrugged and looked quickly away from her. "He likes her. She likes
him." 

He still didn't look at her. Instead, his gaze roamed around the bullpen.
"I see," Caroline said firmly. She knew her husband well enough to know
when he was being evasive. "What does Ben *really* think?" 

Rubbing a spot below his right ear, Bob shrugged and said querulously,
"What do you want me to say? The uniform gives her an anonymity Thatcher's
doesn't?" 

Caroline chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. She watched the other woman
key information into her computer. "What's she like?" 

"She's a sweet girl," Bob said. "Reminds me of you." He gave her that look
of his, the one Caroline remembered from the day he made that shot he and
Duncan Frobisher called by some outlandishly long and ridiculous name. Bob
liked to think that shot won her over, but he'd been hers long before
then. He just hadn't realized it. "She's conscientious, intelligent,
well-mannered, and she loves Benton," he added. 

Caroline bit back a smile at his fervent testimonial. "He doesn't know
she's alive," she deduced. 

Her husband frowned. "Hasn't the foggiest." 

Before she could ask more, two people fought their way into the room. The
man led, but the woman pursued him like a dog after a bone. It wasn't a
bad analogy, Caroline thought, since the young woman followed the balding
man with the tenacity of a terrier she'd once had. 

"There's the other one," Bob ground out. "Mouth on her like stink on--" 

She stopped him with a stern look, a sharply lifted eyebrow, and a firm,
"Bob!" 

"--a skunk," he finished lamely. 

The man and woman reached a desk in the corner, and the man flung himself
in his chair. The woman stalked up to him, and Caroline marveled at how
well she managed on her high heels. Her dress was flamboyant to say the
very least, and Caroline thought her quite pretty. Her dark hair was
nicely cut and suited her, and her dark eyes flashed as she verbally tore
a strip off the seated man. She was obviously a woman who wasn't afraid to
let people know what she thought, and it took a certain amount of
confidence to wear clothes so short and shoes so high. 

Stepping closer, Caroline smiled, realizing this was Benton's friend Ray
Vecchio and his sister Francesca. Benton was terrified of Francesca, she
knew. Well, maybe not terrified, but she certainly made him uncomfortable.
As far as Caroline could tell, her son had definitely noticed his friend's
sister, and it was easy to see why. The other woman was not one to be
ignored. Personally, Caroline liked that about her. Benton needed to be
distracted sometimes. Her son worried too much. She watched with interest
as Vecchio's phone rang, and his sister fumed while he answered it. 

Looking past the younger woman, Caroline watched as Elaine went quietly
about her work. Too quietly, perhaps. The young woman certainly seemed
kinder than the others, but Ben needed someone who wouldn't let him
withdraw into himself, and she suspected Elaine would allow him to do just
that. Elaine wasn't very forceful, but the Vecchio girl was perhaps too
forceful. She would demand all Ben's attention, force him to choose
between her and his duty. It was a choice Caroline felt would break her
son. The moment Ray put down his telephone receiver, Francesca started in
where she left off before the call. 

Bob slipped an arm around her. "Seen enough?" he asked, and Caroline heard
the amusement in his voice. 

She leaned her head on his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist.
"I think so." 

He turned her and kissed her gently. "So are any of them good enough?" 

Caroline grimaced at him. "I just want what's best for him." 

"Uh-huh," he said, and she heard the skepticism in his voice. "You know,
my dear, one of these days Ben's going to find a woman he thinks is good
enough, and there's going to e very little either of us can say or do
about it." 

She smiled up at him and moved closer to him. "I know something we can do
something about," she said. 

"Oh?" he asked, lifting his brows. 

Caroline whispered a suggestion in his ear. 

"Well, why didn't you say so sooner?" he asked, and they left the building
and sought their favorite private place. She could leave it to Ben for
now. She had better things to do. 

END 

Leigh A. Adams 

adderlygirl@yahoo.com