Chapter 19

My call to Jeff was one he expected. I’d kinda given him a heads up at the funeral. It was just tentative at the time, but now I was beginning to get my act to together and making some decisions. The good news was that he was actually still in Phoenix. He had some business with the parent company of the trucking company that he drove for. I knew he was thinking of moving back here; the parent company had been wooing him to take over some stuff. He was still thinking on it.

I was alone in the Casa when he arrived. Owen was at his workplace, and Abigail was shopping and had the kids with her. She’d made the case that leaving me with the two nine year-olds was maybe not the best of the available options. She had however left the decision up to me, but I had to grant that she was right, and so the kids were with her.

“Glad you could make it my man,” I said.

“Sam, well like I’ve told you before, you call and we’ll be there, man,” he said.

“Well, thank you for that. And I will need some help moving. There’s no panicky rush, so let me know what’s good for you and the guys; I’m easy,” I said. “And Jeff, thanks again for coming to my dad’s funeral. It meant a lot.”

“It was an honor man, really,” he said.

We finished a couple cups of coffee and then he was gone to do his business with Allied Freight Inc.

I was dressed and ready to go by 6:00 p.m. as mandated by my ex-wife. Damn she sure looked pretty, actually the both of them did as they came into the front room where I’d stationed myself waiting to go to dinner. I decided to say so; they beat me to it.

“You look nice,” she said, coming up to me.

“Yes, indeed,” said Harriet, adding her comment to the mix.

“Thanks,” I said. And, for an ugly guy in a wheelchair, I did have to agree with them. “So do the both of you.”

We were on the road two minutes later.

“Daddy where is mommy?” said Sarah.

“She’s with Mister Bradshaw, baby. She and your Aunt Harriet took him to dinner,” said Owen Cord.

“Daddy is Mister Bradshaw our daddy too?” said Mia.

“Yes, he sorta is,” said Owen.

“Is he going to live with us now?” said Sarah.

“Hmm, no, but he will be staying with us for a little while,” said Owen.

THE SCARBOROUGH dinner club was an upscale steak house that catered only to the well dressed and the well-heeled; homeless riff-raff need not apply. I was okay dressed, and yes I was wearing a tie as I had been advised to do by Abigail, but the well-heeled part was gonna be somebody else’s worry; it sure as hell wasn’t going to be mine.

I don’t think my ex-wife had a clue as to how taking us to a place like the Scarborough made me feel, me being a charter member of the unwashed masses. But maybe she had an agenda I was not as yet privy to that made sense for her to bring us here.

I had imagined that the reason she wanted to take me to dinner at all was to convince me to move back to Phoenix and to take up residence in my dad’s house. I’d already decided, as I had already made them aware, that I was going to sell the house. But, I would listen to her spiel, whatever it turned out to be, and consider it whatever it was. Jesus how I hated owing the two of them anything!

I tried not to advertise my feelings of economic inferiority by word or look as we were ushered to a table toward the back by one I considered to be a somewhat stuffy maitre d’.

“Nice place,” I said. My tone, I was sure, carrying my discomfort being in a place so far out of my economic league.

“I chose it to honor you, Sam, really,” she said, clearly having figured out my reticence to visit a place like the Scarborough.

“No, no, it’s fine. I just hope somebody else is paying. I’ve got a few bucks, maybe enough for the tip,” I said. Abby smirked.

“You know damn well that I’ll be the one paying tonight,” she said. My turn to smirk.

“Yeah, just kidding,” I said, “sheesh.”

Now she smiled as did her wing woman. I really was wondering why Harriet was with us. But, I guessed I would soon be finding out.

“So, anyway, I’m being honored,” I said.

“Yes for being an American war hero, and for being the man you are and being so understanding about me and Owen,” she said. “I know that in the beginning it was hard for you, and for me and Owen too believe me.”

“Oh?” I said. I had to wonder what the hell she was talking about. I hadn’t been, nor was I currently, nor was I ever going to be happy about what the two of them had done to me. Yes, I had accepted their help, and gratefully, that with everything that had gone down since my dad died. But accepting? Happy? Understanding? Those were adjectives that were way too far beyond the pale to describe my feelings, yes way to far.

“Would it be all right if I ordered for everybody?” She said.

“Fine with me,” said Harriet, “you know what I like.” It was clear that Harriet had been here before with her best friend., probably with Owen in attendance as well.

“Sure,” I said.

We’d barely looked at the menus. I did notice that none of the choices had prices with them. That had to mean that if you had to ask you shouldn’t have been in the place.

The waiter arrived and she ordered. It would be some kind of prime rib ensemble. At least she ordered in English. I’d been half expecting her to do so in French, well okay, not really.

I should perhaps note here that Owen had kid duty as arranged by Abigail. When I’d heard that, I’d almost demurred accepting the invite to dinner. I wanted to be with the babies. But, they, the two to them, had been so good to me these past days at a time when I admittedly needed them, or somebody, that I decided to not make any waves.

The food came and it was super good for sure. And the special red wine that we hadn’t even ordered actually made our little dinner party very pleasurable. We ate and talked about the funeral and how something it was, and then, the table cleared, our wine glasses refreshed, Abigail opened up.

“So, Sam, I guess it’s time we maybe talked a little bit about some things,” said Abigail. Her tone bothered me, but...

“Okay,” I said.

“Well, Harriet here has a proposition for you that I think you might want to consider,” she said.

Okay, she’d stopped me cold in my tracks, figuratively speaking. The topic of conversation was clearly not going to have anything to do with anything I might have predicted.

“Oh? Harriet?” I said, looking over at Harriet who was smiling broadly.