“On paper, I know.”
Larry drew back. What the hell did that mean?
“Your social IQ,” said Steve. “It’s…”
“Oh, don’t stop now,” Larry urged, his voice a low growl.
“You know social interaction’s not your strong suit.”
Maybe not in crowds, but it was perfectly fine with Crystal. “And you genuinely believe, through my social ineptitude, I’d let some gorgeous, young woman get her hooks in me?”
“You’re only human, Dad. And you’ve been lonely since Mom died.”
Larry paused for a moment. “You should meet her.”
It was Steve’s turn to draw back. “Bad idea.”
“Afraid you might like her?”
“I’m afraid that’s exactly what she wants. To insinuate herself into your family life.”
Larry drew an exasperated sigh. “I hope you change your mind. Because I won’t stop seeing her-not for you or anybody else.”
Steve paused. “This could be an expensive lesson.”
“I’m betting the lesson will be yours. I have good taste in women, Steve. I picked your mother, didn’t I?”
“That was a long time ago.”
A pain flicked across Larry’s chest. But it was weaker than before, less sharp. He was sad now, not devastated like he’d been for so many months and years.
“It was,” Larry agreed softly.
“Be careful, Dad,” said Steve, genuine caring evident in his eyes.
“I will,” Larry promised, feeling the fight go out of him. “See you at Pocono?”
Steve nodded, opening the door.
AMBER WAS LATE ARRIVING FOR dinner. But when the kids bounced through the front door, Crystal breathed a sigh of relief.
She was in the dining room with her mother, setting out stoneware plates and gold-tinted water glasses. Arms out, a whining engine noise sputtering from his lips, David rounded the brown, brocade couch, zipped past the magazine-covered oak coffee table and nearly careened into the china cabinet that straddled the dining room and living room.
“Hi, Grandma. Hi, Auntie Crystal.”
“How are you, David?” asked Crystal, happy to see him looking more carefree. Maybe she was blowing the Zane situation out of proportion.
“I’m a fighter jet. One of the Blue Angels.” And he was off through the kitchen and down the hall.
“We saw them on sports day,” said Jennifer. “They were flying over the football stadium at State.”
David appeared in the living room again. “They went straight up in the air,” he whooped. “I’m going to be a jet pilot.”
Crystal could almost hear Larry telling her there was a lot of math in flying fighter jets. She glanced at her watch, then surreptitiously checked the stove, wondering how long it would be before dinner got started.
“Do I smell baked ham?” asked Amber, appearing in the dining room, a smile on her face. She looked a lot better than she had last night. Her eyes were clear, her hair was loose and freshly washed, and her makeup didn’t look as harsh as it had last night.
“Grandma baked a chocolate cake!” Jennifer called from the kitchen.
“Did I forget a birthday?” asked Crystal, wondering why her mother was pulling out all the stops. At the same time, she felt a little guilty that her mind was wandering to Larry when her mother had gone to so much work.
Stella wasn’t normally the Susie-homemaker type. She had a cleaning service on Fridays, usually offered cold cereal for breakfast, ate lunch at the local diner, and was known to pop frozen entrées in the microwave several times a week.
“Chocolate is your grandfather’s favorite, Jennifer,” said Stella.
Crystal caught Amber’s eye, and they exchanged a curious look. Stella hadn’t spent a lot of her life doing little things for their father, either. It was more the other way around.
Just then, Harold Hayes came in through the back door.
“And how are my girls?” he asked heartily.
“Grandpa!” Jennifer called, rushing to hug him.
David zoomed in from the hallway, arms still out like airplane wings. “I’m not a girl,” he informed his grandfather.
Harold rustled his hair. “Of course you’re not.”
“I’m going to be a fighter jet pilot.”
“Good for you.”
“What’s in your pocket, Grandpa?” Jennifer sang.
David bobbed his head up and down, eyes shining up at his grandfather.
Harold made a show of searching through the pockets of his work pants. “Let’s see. Well, lookie here. Is that a…”
“What is it? What is it?” the children cried.
“Chocolate panda bear?”
“Our favorite! Thank you, Grandpa, thank you.”
“After dinner,” came Stella’s warning voice.
“Can you put them beside your plates?” asked Harold.
Hands outstretched, the children eagerly nodded, and he handed them each a cellophane-wrapped chocolate panda.
They scampered to their usual chairs at the dining-room table.
“How are my big girls?” Harold asked Crystal and Amber, as he moved through the kitchen.
“Fine, Dad,” said Crystal, giving him a peck on the cheek.
“Fine, Dad,” Amber echoed. “How are you?”
“Feeling great,” he beamed, giving Crystal yet another moment of confusion. Her father had always been the most easygoing of her parents. But he seemed almost unnaturally jovial tonight.
Maybe they had good news. A big contract? An expansion of the business? Or maybe they’d finally decided to redecorate the house. Her father had wanted to close in the garage for years. Her mother had insisted it was a waste of time and money.
“Will you open the wine now, Harold?” Stella’s tone implied it wasn’t really a question. “Crystal, the ham can be carved, and Amber can drain the vegetables. Kids, don’t forget to wash up.”
Within minutes, dinner was on the table and the dishes were being passed around. Amber filled the wineglasses, while Crystal made sure the children didn’t drown their salads in dressing.
“Kenny Carmichael’s son joined Softco as an apprentice,” said Stella, referring to their shop foreman.
“He’s old enough?” asked Crystal. Last time she’d seen Wesley Carmichael, he was in junior high.
“Graduated top of his class in pre-apprenticeship.”
“That’s great,” said Crystal.
“Nice to have some young people interested in a good career,” Stella harrumphed.
Warning flags went off in Crystal’s head. Surely tonight wasn’t going to be a lecture about her joining the company. She’d make a terrible machinist. And she sure wasn’t going into sales or accounting.
“How are things at Wendals?” Harold asked Amber. Wendals was the discount ladies’ clothing store chain where Amber was a shift supervisor.
“Good,” said Amber with a nod, polishing off her glass of wine and reaching for the bottle.
Crystal automatically checked other people’s glasses, finding most of them still full. She watched fatalistically as Amber refilled hers to the top.
“Mr. Laity is still being a jerk about holidays,” said Amber. “And the new clerk is lazy, but at least they fixed the lunch-room fridge.”
Her father’s gaze went to Crystal. “And how’s the book coming along?”
“Three more interviews to go,” she told him. “I should see the cover design next month.”
“Are you expecting any money from it?”
“Not much,” she admitted. If she was lucky, it would pay out decently over the long term. But it wouldn’t be the kind of royalties that paid the rent.
His lips compressed. “Hmm.”
“At least she has Simon’s pension and life insurance,” her mother put in.
Crystal didn’t say anything. Her parents had no idea she wasn’t touching that money. If she told them, they’d ask why. And that would open up an entire can of worms.
Her parents exchanged a look.
“What’s going on?” asked Crystal, glancing from one to the other.
Her mother took a deep breath. “Your father and I are selling the business.”