way, even without the overhead lights on.

"Paul. I'm going to lunch with my dad. I'd like to take an

extra hour today. I can stay later, if you need me to."

He shook his head. "No, Paige. That's fine. Go enjoy

yourself."

"Want me to bring you back anything?"

"No." He sighed and waved a hand at the monitor. "I need to get this done before I leave for Kansas next week."

"You have my cel number if you need me," I told him.

"Cal if you want me to stop on my way back."

Paul has a very nice smile he doesn't use half as often as he

should. It doesn't make him into a movie star by any

means, but it was easy enough to see why his wife had

agreed to become Mrs. Johnson.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd gone to lunch with my

dad. He usualy managed to remember my birthday, if not

the day at least the month, and major holidays seemed to

trigger his memory, too, but with nothing on the calendar it

was a bit unusual for him to ask me. He greeted me with

the same hug and kiss as he always did, the one that left

me feeling slightly strange though he never seemed to think

so.

We both ordered the same thing, soup and salad. "Stela's

got me on some sort of diet," he explained. "Says we both

need to drop a few pounds. You look like you've slimmed

down a bit."

"I've been working out." Leave it to my dad to compliment

me while making me feel bad at the same time.

"We just got an eliptical trainer and a Bowflex. You can

come over and use it if you want." My dad thickly buttered

a rol already glistening with grease.

"There's a gym in my apartment building, but thanks." I

didn't even take a rol, thinking of the word discipline and

what it meant to me. I didn't point out how little sense it

made for me to drive al the way to my dad's house to

work out.

work out.

"You could stop by anyway some time this week. Check it

out."

In the past I'd have given him an awkward laugh and

shrugged off the invitation knowing that though he meant

the offer, he wouldn't notice if I didn't take him up on it.

Real invitations, the ones I was expected to take, came

from Stela and always had. Now, though, something in the

way he said it sounded different.

"Sure, I guess I could."

"Your brother's been giving us a bit of a rough time," my

dad said.

Interrupted by the waitress bringing our soup, I didn't

answer at first. My dad, as was typical of him, ignored the

server, spiling his guts in front of a stranger when I'd have

preferred the decency of a few minutes' wait. Ah, wel, it

wasn't my secret.

"Jeremy," he added. "He's been acting up in school, getting into trouble at home. Won't listen to a damn thing we tel

him."

him."

I didn't think pointing out giving in to your child's every

whim was bound to catch up to you would be appropriate,

so I made some sympathetic murmurs and wondered why

my dad was sharing.

"He's been realy mouthy to me."

"Kids go through stages, don't they?"

My dad gave me a fond smile. "You never have."

Choices. We al make them, sometimes more than once.

Sometimes it's the choices we make over and over that

define us, but more often it's the ones we don't.

"Kids who feel confident in their parents' affections can

take the risk of acting out," I said calmly. "I gave my mom a heluva hard time growing up."

My dad's not a stupid man, though he is deliberately blind

to certain things. He sighed. "Paige. I know I haven't

always been there for you."

I lifted my spoon to give my hands something to do, but it

clattered against the bowl and I didn't want to risk spiling

clattered against the bowl and I didn't want to risk spiling

the soup, so I put the spoon down. Of al the awkward

moments we'd ever shared, this had to rank right up there

with the top ten. Worse even than the year he'd noticed I'd

started wearing a bra and announced it at one of Stela's

parties.

Knowing he wanted me to say it didn't matter only made it

harder for me to answer. I stared into my soup for a long,

hard minute and felt his gaze weighting me. I wanted to

make it al right for my dad because it would be easier then

to pretend it was al right for me. But in the end I said

nothing, silence more of an answer than words could ever

have been.

"Could you come by?" he said after another half minute

ticked by. "Jeremy has always liked you, Paige. He looks

up to you like a—"

"Sister?" I looked up at him, then, and took pity on the

man who was responsible for one-half of me.

"You are his sister. We've never tried to make you feel like anything less."

He wasn't going to apologize more, I could see that. I was

pretty sure he hadn't realy meant the first one. On the

surface, sure, but not down deep. No where it mattered.

"I can come over. Sure. I'm not certain what you think I

can do with him, though."

My dad's look of relief was genuine, anyway. "Just talk to

him. I asked Steven if he'd come, but he's busy with the

kids. I knew we could count on you."

That, at least, was flattering and believable. "Sure.

Thanks."

"Great." Just like that, things were okay again.

My dad slurped up his soup, then dug into his salad as he

talked the rest of the meal about the trips they were

planning for the summer. Again to the beach house he'd

bought a few years back, and also to the Grand Canyon

for a river-rafting trip. He invited me to come to the beach

house if I could make it, and I said I'd try.

"Good," my dad said like that settled everything that had

ever been strained between us.

In a way it had. I'd been honest with him, in some smal

In a way it had. I'd been honest with him, in some smal

way, which I'd never been before. We said our goodbyes

and this time the hug didn't feel so strained. He patted my

head, then puled me closer for a second hug.

"You look so much like your mom," my dad said, which

was untrue. "How is she, anyway?"

"Fine. Good." He never asked about her, but I wasn't

going to act as if it was a big deal.

"Good." My dad hesitated. "Tel her…I said hi, and I hope she's doing al right."

"Sure, Dad. I wil."

He looked at my car. "You get a new car?"

My car, a silver-gray Volvo, had seen me through three

moves, multiple winters and road trips to the beach and

back. It was the first car I'd ever owned and even though

Austin had cosigned the loan he'd never put a cent toward

it. It had been too much car for me when I bought it. It had

been my debt and my work.

"No. Same car."

"Huh. Looks new."

I looked at it again. Lately al I'd been able to see were the

scratches and dings. "Wel, it's not."

"You had that when you and what's-his-name were

together, didn't you?"

"Austin. Yeah."

"You see him at al?"

I gave him a hard look. The bright sunshine wasn't kind to

him. I saw his years in the lines around his eyes and mouth

and the sag of his jaw and the gray glint in his hair.

"Sometimes. Why?"

"Just that…hel. You were young. I should've told you not

to marry him."

He was stil my dad, despite everything, and I loved him. I

think my hug surprised him as much as I surprised myself.

"Dad, you couldn't have stopped me."

He laughed. "No. I guess not. That's one thing I'l say

He laughed. "No. I guess not. That's one thing I'l say

about you, Paige, you always knew just what you wanted

and how to get it, and you never let anything stand in your

way."

His assessment took me aback. What could I say to that?

"Thanks."

"Give Stela a cal, would you? See when's a good night

for you to come over. She knows the boys' schedules

better than I do. We'l give you dinner."

"You don't always have to feed me."

"I'm your dad," he said and tucked a twenty-dolar bil into the pocket of my jacket before I could even register he'd

done it. "Cal her. I'l see you later, kiddo."

I watched him go and turned back to my car to look at it

with new eyes. Sunshine had made a mirror of the

windows, and in it I saw a woman who never let anything

stand in her way, who knew what she wanted and how to

get it. My father saw me that way and suddenly, I could

see myself that way, too.

Chapter 20

It's amazing how one smal thing can change so much. I

went back to the office humming under my breath. I'd have

danced and scattered glitter if people did that in real life,

but I settled for stopping at Starbucks to grab Paul a late-

afternoon coffee and scone. He'd need one.

Tension creased his brow when I gave it to him, but he

took the cup and bag gratefuly as he pushed back from

his desk. "Thank you, Paige."

Five minutes later, as my fingers flew over the keyboard, I

heard the phone ring. Five minutes after that, I heard a

thud and a curse, folowed by the sound of water running

in his private bathroom and more muttered cursing. I