I feel dampness in my eyes and force down the somber thoughts. When I walk in the door today, there’ll be none of this. As he can hold his own and be strong, then fuck, I can too.
After the long drive through rush hour traffic, I park at the end of the driveway and head inside.
“Pops,” I shout from the front door, and he hollers back from his smoking room. As I spot him sitting in his chair next to the fireplace, I smile. This man is a creature of habit, that’s for sure. He’s in that chair with a Cuban cigar in his fingers and a fire going whether it’s the middle of winter or as hot as an August lunch hour.
“Good to see you, son,” he answers, and puffs a few times on his Cohiba cigar. “How were the roads?”
“The usual,” I reply and take a seat in the leather sofa opposite him.
“You should stay for a while, if you’re free. It’ll save you from sitting in another hour’s worth of gridlock for the drive home.”
“Sure, why not.”
He nods over at his wet bar. “Whiskey?”
I shake my head. “Maybe later,” I answer. My remaining sober is essential, as I have no idea why he asked me here. “So, where were you? I missed you at that financial risk meeting this afternoon.”
“You’ve been so good at showing up that I figured you could handle it on your own.” He walked over to the bar and pours himself a drink. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve surprised me, stepping up the way you have this past couple of weeks. Keep it up and you’ll be well on your way to impressing the board of directors.”
“Do I detect a hint of pride somewhere in there?” I tease.
“I wouldn’t get too carried away. You’ve got a ways to go. But sure, you’ve restored my faith that there’s still hope for you, young man.”
Even though I turned down his offer for a drink, Pops walks over to the sofa with two glasses filled with amber liquid. He takes a seat beside me and hands me a glass.
I shift my body toward him and set the glass down on the coffee table in front of us. “Should I be bracing for more bad news, or are you gonna drop another ultimatum?”
He flashes a one-sides smile. “Are those the only two options you can come up with? Is it so hard for you to believe that I might want you here to spend time with my grandson?”
I’d feel bad if the creases at the sides of his eyes didn’t reveal so much levity. “You’re yanking my chain, Pops.”
He laughs and that deep rumble fills the room. “That’s how I know we’ve spent way too much time together. You have no business reading me so well, kid.”
“That’s how it goes.” I shrug. “So, give it to me straight. What did you want to talk about?”
He swirls the drink around in his glass, seeming to search for the right words. Then he looks me in the eye. “You’re joining me in the Hamptons this weekend,” he says, but it’s not a question. It’s a statement.
I nod, because well, I know how limited our time is. “I’ll be there.”
“Good. The Harrisons and my old friend, Earl and his wife, Jean are all coming. And the McCutcheons will be next door as usual, with their whole clan.”
“I’m used to it being a full weekend,” I say.
“Did I mention that Isabelle will be there too?” he asks, and seems to pause, waiting for a reaction or objection from me that I don’t provide.
“Nice.”
“Yes, it is. She’s a lovely girl.”
I can see where he’s going with this, but I’m not taking the bait. What’s ironic is I’ll enjoy having Isabelle around for an entire weekend. Although we haven’t seen each other since dinner that night, we’ve exchanged a couple of text messages. But I’m not about to hand over any hints to Pops about Isabelle’s and my friendship. That’s poking the bear. No doubt, if he ever finds out that we had a drunken sex session and messed around a little during that dinner, he’s bound to put the whole marriage plan back on the table. And I’m not ready to fight him on it, but if I have to, I will.
“You’ll take the time to get to know her…better.” His statement is laced with so much suggestiveness that I wonder if he’s listening to himself.
“Careful, Pops. You’re starting to sound like a pimp.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I heard you loud and clear. You want me to make a move on that girl…while we’re in the Hamptons.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“That’s not creepy at all…Jesus H. Christ.”
“Well, would it?”
“Do you want to chaperone while we’re at it?” I ask with sarcasm. “Look, I get it, all right? You don’t want me to be alone. But at the rate you’re going, if you keep laying it on so strong…All I’m saying is if you push this hard with Isabelle or any woman at all, they’ll run. Far.”
“All right, I’ll tone it down with the whole pimping you out.” Pops laughs at his own statement. “Just give it a chance. Give her a chance.”
“Are you saying that if I spend the weekend getting to know Isabelle Harrison, you’ll drop the whole marriage idea?”
“Yes.”
“Just like that?” I ask, skeptical. “One minute you want me to settle down and find some woman to spend the rest of my life with, the next minute one weekend with some girl from my childhood is enough? That seems like a big change of heart.”
“Well, like I said.” He shrugs, not bothered by my questions at all. “You’re doing well at the company, and that was one of my biggest concerns. But I also don’t want you to be lonely. My choice is
