Chapter 1: Adrian, Illinois

I guess I'm illegitimate. Well, since my mother and father never got married, there's no doubt I'm illegitimate. Not that it ever bothered me much. I can't remember ever being discriminated against because of it, though I always felt kind of funny myself. I wasn't ashamed... maybe, just a little embarrassed.

My father had money and was always very generous in supporting mom and me. And he kept in touch too, maintaining his relationship with us - visiting about twice a year.

The last time he visited was in May, a little after I graduated from high school. It was Friday after my first week working at my summer job with the only architect in our town. I would be starting school at MIT in the fall, and though my father had agreed to pay my tuition and living costs, I wanted the summer job to save a little extra spending money.

As I parked my old Dodge in the driveway, mom came hurrying out the back door. "Move your car," she said. "Your father will be at the airport at 5:45. We have to pick him up."

I parked my car on the street so she could pull out her BMW, then got in next to her. I saw that she had changed from the tailored clothes she usually wore at work to a sleeveless white blouse and tan shorts. Her dark brown hair, which she wore up for work was down now, just brushing the collar of her blouse. I also saw that she was wearing a little more makeup than usual.

"What's going on? He usually gives us more warning before his visits," I said.

"He called from Chicago a couple of hours ago and said he would be arriving at 5:45, that's all I know. But this visit is about you. He said he wanted to talk to you about something important."

"I hope everything's all right. He isn't going to go back on his promise about paying for me to go to MIT, is he?"

"Whatever happens, be sure you treat your father with the respect he deserves. Remember, he does the best he can for us."

"I will, mom... I will," I said, a little worried about what the future might hold.

We arrived at the airport a few minutes before the plane was due. Mom parked in the red waiting zone - not much danger of being towed at our small airport. As she walked ahead of me into the terminal, I noticed how good mom looked. The high heel sandals she was wearing with her shorts revealed how shapely her legs were. She wasn't really old yet, just having turned 40. I could imagine what she must have looked like twenty years ago, when as a model in Chicago she first attracted my father's attention.

We didn't have to wait long before the small commuter plane landed. My father was smiling broadly as he entered the terminal and was met by mom and me. Then, he put his arms around me, pulling me to him in a warm hug. This was uncharacteristic for my father; he tends to be kind of reserved and doesn't express his emotions much.

A warm feeling of affection for my dad welled up inside me. He was my father. I loved him, and I knew he loved me. I guess mom felt the same, the way she kept herself close to him. Releasing me, one arm around mom's waist, "All set for MIT?" dad asked.

"I hope I'm ready," I said. "I've got a summer job to save some extra spending money. There aren't any problems with me going to MIT this fall, are there?"

"No... no problems," he said. "I'm glad you're taking responsibility for earning some of your spending money. There's something else I'll need to talk to you about later, though."

Then, seeing the expression on my face, "Don't worry. I think you're going to like what I have in mind."

After we got home, dad and I sat in the den while mom fixed dinner. She had phoned the real estate agency where she worked to let them know she wouldn't be available until Monday. She didn't really need to work for the money, but wanted something to occupy her now that I was older and more independent. When I was younger, she had limited her activities to caring for me, housekeeping and working for the PTA and a few other community organizations.

Dad looked at me over his scotch and water. "I know you're still a little worried about what I wanted to talk to you about. Well, it's really nothing you need to worry about. Now that you're getting older - in a lot of ways, you're an adult now - I realize we haven't had much opportunity to get to know each other. This summer, I'd like to have you spend some time with me at my place in Santa Barbara. That will give us a chance to get better acquainted with each other before you go off to MIT. Well, what do you think? Would you like to spend a couple of weeks with me?"

I was relieved to hear my worst fear wasn't going to be realized, and a little surprised at what my dad was suggesting. I never thought he was interested in having any more of a relationship with me than what happened during his occasional visits. But, I was willing to go along with him. I loved my dad. If he wanted to try to get to know me better, I was willing to try to get to know him better.

"Yes," I replied. "I'd like that. Will mom... ?"

"Your mother doesn't need to come with us. She's been to my place in Santa Barbara before. (I didn't know that.) I'm sure she'll agree it's better if it's just you and me."

Dinner was delicious, as usual. Mom was a good cook, and she seemed to take pleasure in the praise dad gave her for the meal. We firmed up our plans over dinner. I would fly to Santa Barbara at the beginning of July for a two week visit - dad would send me the tickets. He told me not to worry about losing my job with the architect, he would fix it so I could take the two weeks off. (Not that I cared much any more about that job.) As my father predicted, mom agreed it would be better if she didn't join us. "You won't want your mother around when you two are doing your male-bonding thing," she said, smiling.

As mom started to clear the table, dad said, "Laura, you take it easy, Rob and I can take care of this. You were stuck in that hot kitchen while we were talking in the den."

"Thanks," she said. "I think I'll take a shower to cool off."

Clearing the table and loading the dishwasher was one of my regular chores, so having my father's help was actually an advantage. It wasn't long before we had the dishwasher loaded, the tablecloth folded, and returned to our places in the den.