Wild Card

On motion sensors, Julia’s exterior garage and porch lights had instantly begun shining down over her lawn as they turned in from the road. She regarded her father in their brightness now, impressed by how well he’d learned to use the warm and cuddly senior routine to his charming advantage since retirement. But the look of dead-set resolution in his steel gray eyes was no different than ever. It didn’t matter if he was laying the foundation for a backyard dog pen, talking about the Dream of global freedom through communications on which he had built UpLink International, or anticipating an invitation he’d already made up his mind to decline.

Gordian’s problem tonight was that he and Julia were two of a kind when it came to persistence — and he knew it.

She waited beside him for a moment, parked there with the mist draping over the Rover’s windshield, and isolated droplets of moisture splatting onto its hood and roof from the branches of an old sequoia overhanging her driveway.

“You really shouldn’t drive in weather like this, Dad,” she said, getting it over with. “It’s already after eleven. The smart thing would be for you to stay overnight.”

Gordian went from poking at his dash console to tapping his steering wheel column.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Thanks, anyway.”

She looked at him.

“You can fix us hot chocolates,” she said. “I’ve got about four kinds of Ghirardelli’s. And a fresh quart of milk and some whipped cream in the fridge.”

He smiled.

“I can fix them?”

“Nobody does it better.”

“I’m proud to see my daughter’s as kind and generous as she is talented,” he replied, still smiling. “Seriously, hon, I appreciate the offer. But I’ll be home inside an hour.”

Which meant his return trip might total almost two hours, assuming the rain didn’t intensify to the extent that it slowed up road conditions, she thought. It had taken them about forty five minutes to get back here to Pescadero from the gallery in Boulder Creek, and a lot of it had been country driving on some of the darkest stretches of Highway 9. Tack on their ride out to the gallery, and it would mean some four hours behind the wheel for him tonight if he headed off into the Palo Alto hills.

“Okay, here’s where the deal really gets sweet,” she said. “I’ll let my adorable canines sleep in the guest room with you. Jack, Jill, Viv, too. So what do you say?”

Gordian suddenly burst out laughing. Julia took that as a good sign considering she’d been braced for his I- flew-fighter-jets-through-enemy-flack-and-canhandle-a-drive-on-the-freeway argument.

“A man’s got to beware of having all his wishes come true at once,” he said. “Any other attempts to buy influence before we say good night?”

Julia gave him a level glance.

“There’s something serious I’ve meant to discuss with you,” she said. “And if that’s not persuasive enough, I might threaten to call Mom and ask her to decide the issue.”

Gordian looked at her and cleared his throat. It was over and they both knew it.

“Do you mean it about wanting to talk?” he said.

Julia nodded sincerely. There were some thoughts that had been bearing heavily on her since she’d gotten together with Megan that afternoon, although she’d wondered whether to keep them to herself. But so much for that.

“I’ll phone Ashley and get those hot chocolates on the burner,” Gordian said, and reached for his door handle.

Thirty minutes later, they were sitting over their cocoa mugs in Julia’s kitchen breakfast nook, cornered by three relentlessly staring greyhounds. The rain was falling in sheets outside.

Gordian looked from Jack, a brindle male, to the two females — Jill, a teal blue, and Vivian the blond bombshell. All of them were stretched out on the floor, their heads cranked toward the table, ears perked, penny- colored eyes fixed on his steaming drink.

“Don’t they know dogs can be deathly allergic to chocolate… or are your constant reminders just for my benefit?”

Julia shrugged. “Ex-racers don’t know anything besides being starved for food and attention,” she said. “They’d crunch their insatiable jaws down on our cups if I gave them half a chance.”

Gordian sipped from his mug and listened to the rain pounding against the windows.

“It’s coming down in buckets,” he said.

Julia nodded.

“Lucky thing I didn’t give you a tough time about staying the night,” he said.

She smiled at him. “Not too.”

Gordian was quiet awhile, his face turning serious.

“That talk you mentioned…”

Julia noticed his hesitation, reached out to pat the back of his hand.

“Don’t look so concerned,” she said. “I’m fine.”

He kept his eyes on her, visibly relieved.

“Oh,” he said. “I was… well, you know…”

“You worry sometimes.”

Gordian nodded.

“I never doubt that you can take care of yourself,” he said. “But since the divorce… and then after what happened last year…”

“I know, Dad,” she said. “And I appreciate it.”

He looked at her.

“And you honestly are okay?”

“Aside from being pregnant by an axe murderer named Jason, yes.”

Gordian’s eyes widened for the briefest of moments. Then he raised his cup to his lips.

“As long as this Jason respects his elders and earns a decent wage, you two have my blessing,” he said.

Julia smiled, spooned some whipped cream into her mouth off the top of her hot chocolate.

“What I wanted to ask isn’t about me,” she said after a bit. “It’s about Tom Ricci.”

Gordian looked surprised.

“Oh,” he said.

“You all right with that or should it be none of my business?”

“Why not?” Gordian shrugged. “You just caught me unprepared.” Another shrug. “I don’t know exactly what I expected, but guess it was something else.”

Julia lowered the spoon to the table and sat with her hands wrapped around her cup.

“I met Megan Breen for lunch today and his name sort of came up in conversation,” she said, unsure why she’d elected to omit the fact that she was the one who brought it up. “I knew he’d been suspended, and was wondering if anything was ever made final.” She paused. “Meg told me there hadn’t been a decision.”

Gordian nodded.

“That’s my understanding,” he said. “It will be her call when it’s made. And Pete Nimec’s, I’d imagine.”

“You don’t have any part in it?”

Gordian shook his head.

“One of the biggest things I decided the day I stepped down as UpLink’s CEO was to place my unqualified trust in Megan. She’s too competent to be a figurehead and shouldn’t have to contend with a meddling old know-it- all getting into her abundant red hair.” He scratched under his chin. “Besides, that would defeat the whole aim of retirement, don’t you agree?”

“Yes,” Julia said. And hesitated briefly again. “Nine times out of ten.”

Gordian crooked an eyebrow at her. “You think the Ricci situation ought to be an exception to the rule?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “It’s hard to be objective considering I owe the man my life.”

Gordian didn’t answer. He sipped his hot chocolate and seemed to listen awhile to the whisk of rain on the