Chapter 16

Dusk was setting as I arrived home on Friday; daylight lasting longer, proof spring was nearing, renewal, nature waking from a long slumber. My Ford F1 pickup, the Old Sod, complained, its engine coughing and shuddering before shutting down, ominous dark smoke billowing from the tailpipe. It was as if turning the car key was only a suggestion to the contumacious truck to turn off, a suggestion it chose to ignore just to spite me. The door creaked as I slammed it shut. One of these days it was going to fall off.

Snow was in retreat. Walkway and drive were clear and dry. Bushes were emerging from their white shroud. The air was definitely warmer, now nicely crisp.

Laughter greeted me upon opening the door. I now recognized the source. Jasmin was visiting. Since the sleepover almost two months ago, Sia and Jasmin spent more and more time together - mostly after school until Alia came to pick her up - and weekend’s during the day, patrolling the small local mall for the emergence of any new fashions.

I had no complaints. Despite my wariness at Jasmin’s supposed crush, she was charming and polite. While relaxed around me, I had the sense she was keeping something back. Her beautiful, exotic eyes were exceptionally observant.

Those two girls could get into one of their moods and confound me, confuse me, and somehow get me to agree to things I didn’t really want to do. I’d actually taken them swimming at the school pool in the middle of a freezing winter, the temperature so cold my nuts had retreated into my groin. They’d manipulated me, asking what I thought of Thai food. I admitted to not liking it.

Sia had immediately asked, “So what do you prefer?”

“Subway subs are much better.”

“Great suggestion, Dad! I’ll have an assorted!”

Jasmin had kicked in with, “We’re hungry! Can I have a BLT with extra mayo?”

Somehow, I’d been hoodwinked into getting subs for them. How had that happened? I wasn’t in the least surprised when Sia had sniffed her sub, frowned, opened it, and carefully extracted every piece of ham, commenting, “When did they change their assorted sub?”

After hanging up my parka, in the living room I came upon two teen girls sitting side by side on the couch, television playing a muted (thank goodness) music video, and both girls studying their individual iPhones. Jasmin, in delight, exclaimed, “See that? Did you see?

Sia nodded. “Yeah. How did they train the swans to feed those Koi fish?”

I didn’t bother trying to figure them out. It looked like they were watching the same video on both iPhones! Why couldn’t they share?

Sia glanced up at me. “Dad! You’re home!” She jumped up and gave me a tight hug. With excited, mismatched eyes, she informed me, “Jasmin’s sleeping over.”

“It might have been nice to ask first,” I said.

“I did.”

“I don’t remember having that conversation. Hi, Jasmin,” I added, smiling at her.

“Hi, Mr. Hicks!” She’d reverted to my surname after a stern admonishment from her mother.

Sia said, “I did ask. Mrs. Sanderson said it was okay.”

With a sigh of frustration, I clarified. “I meant ask me.”

Sia leaned back from the hug and studied my face. “You always say yes. Why would I ask you?”

“Because ... maybe I’d say no?”

“You mean Jasmin can’t stay?”

“Of course she can stay.”

With a grin, my daughter let me go and returned to the couch. “See? You always say yes.”

Shaking my head, I went to change, idly wondering if Alia could explain young girls’ seemingly innate ability to confound and manipulate. While changing, I decided to get some of my own back at the girls.

Neither of them appreciated my artistic presentation. They seemed to miss how two cooked beetroots formed the eyes, a baked potato the nose, and two sweet Italian sausages the wide mouth of a smiley face, with gravy as the goatee. Their only concern was with the two deep purple beetroots and how to get them as far away from the rest of the meal as fast as possible. I casually mentioned there’d be no television or iPhones unless they ate the beetroot.

They didn’t even bother to acknowledge my threat. Cute.

On the bright side, about seven-thirty, as Sia and Jasmin hogged the couch, sprawled at each end and furiously texting each other - the three-foot chasm between them clearly needing the assistance of technology to communicate, the front door bell rang. Alia greeted me with a wide smile and a bottle of red wine.

“I thought you might like some intelligent conversation,” she said.

“You have no idea.” Ushering her in, I checked the label on the wine. It was a very nice Cabernet from California. “I have some questions about manipulation and young girls. Perhaps you can help me.”

Alia laughed brightly, shrugged her long light brown cashmere coat off and handed it to me, revealing a long matching cashmere sweater and calf-length skirt, a simple gold necklace her only jewelry; a very elegant outfit. Her exotic ebony skin glowed with health.

“Have they been confusing you? There’s only one defense; ignore them,” she suggested.

“That’s pretty hard to do.” Leading her into the warm kitchen, I fetched wine glasses from a cabinet and a corkscrew from a drawer while she settled at the old oak table.

She rubbed her hand over the surface feeling it’s worn, waxed texture. “This is a nice table. How old is it?”

“Soraya and I acquired it just before Sia was born, so fourteen years,” I said, uncorking the wine with a slight pop and pouring a ruby red wine into the glasses.

Alia laughed. “I meant, when was it made?”

“Oh. Mid-eighteen hundreds, I think.”

“It’s beautiful.” She sipped the wine and sighed with delight. “So, has my daughter been behaving?”

I gave it some thought. Over the last eight weeks, Jasmin had been a frequent visitor. Slightly reserved compared to Sia, but exceptionally observant, she’d behaved perfectly ... or as well as teenage girls could. “She’s great. Actually, I think she must have recovered from her crush. I haven’t seen anything untoward.”

Alia smiled. “Oh no. If anything it’s become stronger. When we talk, the only easy topic for her is you and Sia. You shouldn’t flirt with her so much.”

At my sharp glance, Alia laughed. “Just kidding.” After a brief pause to taste the wine, Alia said casually, “You and Sia have a very unusual relationship.”

Apprehension made my body tense. Did she know something? “What do you mean?”

“It’s obvious Sia adores you. You two have a special relationship. As I said, very unusual.”

Cautiously, I responded. “I don’t know any other single father raising a teenage daughter, so I have no point of reference.”

Peals of laughter echoed from the living room.

Alia smiled. She nodded towards the laughter. “That’s what I’m talking about. Sia’s such a well adjusted girl. She’s quite mature for her age. You must have a wonderful relationship with her for her to turn out so well.”

Relieved, I grinned. “We have an understanding. Sia lets me decide everything, always asks what I’d like, and then does whatever the heck she wants. As long as it doesn’t include murder, or grand theft auto, I thank my lucky stars.”

“Thank you,” Alia said with a soft smile.

“For what?”

“Jasmin’s noticed. She’s finally being exposed to a father-daughter relationship full of love. I think she wishes you were her father. It’s good for her to be exposed to you two.” Another sip of wine and Alia asked, “How did someone with a Masters in Chemical Engineering and Applied Chemistry end up in Lonsdale, Minnesota?”

“Have you been checking up on me?” I asked, grinning.

“With the way my daughter’s enamored with you? You bet your boots, buster!” she answered with a smile.

Alia’s smile was radiant. Her eyes were deep, dark and fascinating. Elegant, refined, she was exceptionally attractive. Why hadn’t she remarried?

“Soraya and I made a decision early on. We decided quality of life was more important than success and wealth. As for why Longsdale? They needed a manager for their water treatment plant. So here I am.”

“Do you ever regret it?” Alia asked, holding her empty wine glass out as I poured.

“Not for a minute. So, how did a financial planner become successful in a town with a population of less than five thousand inhabitants?”

Alia twirled the stem of her glass. “I’ve always had a knack for numbers. Some lucky advice made my clients very happy. The sophistication of the Internet let me broaden my client base, and voilà!”

We continued to chat, an easy and comfortable companionship, until Sia and Jasmin appeared in the kitchen doorway, interrupting us.

“You guys can have the living room. We’re going to bed,” Sia announced. She glanced at the half-empty bottle of wine. “Don’t drink too much, Dad. It’s not good for you.”