Character, my father told me, is what you do when no one’s looking. But during those playdates, character was what I did when Anna Brody was looking. Because when she wasn’t around, I was just an average dad with average ideas. All those times when we met up with Anna and Sophie, didn’t Anna know my best self was on display?

So that day (Playdate #5) when the rain came, it came hard, and it did what I couldn’t do. It cleared the entire playground. Tess Windsor, as she put the plastic cover over her younger child’s stroller, called out for me and the boys to meet over at her apartment at 2 Montague Terrace. Hot chocolate was going to be served.

I said, “No, thanks,” and Teddy, Sam, and I stood against the shelter in the playground, having decided to stay. The cold rain fell hard and at a slant, and I thought that because the drops were so big and fat, the storm would be brief. I told the boys, “We’re going to wait this one out.”

Teddy whimpered for a moment, after everyone was gone, saying, “I want hot chocolate.”

“I’ll get you hot chocolate when the rain stops.”

I’d been right. It wasn’t long until the rain began to let up.

“Daddy, look,” Sam said.

“I am,” I said.

“No, here. Daddy, look here.”

I looked down. Sam showed me his arms and how his skin had goose bumps.

“It’s from the cold air,” I said, helping Sam on with his jacket. “It’s something your body does to keep you warm.”

By the time Anna Brody and Sophie Brody-Ashworth made it through the gate, the rain had turned to a drizzle. They were an hour late.

“You waited,” she said, as if she hadn’t expected me to.

Of course, I wanted to say.

“Do you know why you waited?”

I had my theories. “No,” I said.

“Because, Tim Welch, you are a good, good man.”

Hardly.

My proof: That night, with Kate working late and the boys in bed, I came up with some lame excuse to call Anna. But when her voice mail answered, instead of mentioning my reason for calling, I quickly hung up the phone. This felt rude. So I called back and listened to her recorded greeting.

Hi. Leave a message . . .

I loved the warmth in her hi, as if she were genuinely happy I’d called.

for Philip, Sophie . . .

She said Philip’s name with an almost mock seriousness and Sophie’s with warmth. Maybe she didn’t love her husband. Surely she loved her daughter more.

Or . . . me.