Chapter 43

Jeff rang the bell at 6:06. I walked him into the dining room.

My Father looked at his watch. "I said six sharp."

"And that was what, from your mouth to God's ears?" asked Jeff.

My Father stood there speechless, stunned. Nobody had ever talked to him like that.

"I didn't get the invitation until after business hours yesterday and, I don't know how you were brought up, but I was taught you never show up for a first visit without something for the hostess."

He lifted his arm, walked toward my mother and handed her a dozen roses.

"Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Fine. Nice to meet you."

He turned to my Father and said, "I was also taught never to act in such a way as to humiliate a guest. I'm sorry if I made the incorrect assumption that you were brought up with manners.

"I'll forget all about this. I don't want any further embarrassment for Ashley or your wife."

He said all of this in a kind, understanding, conciliatory tone.

My Father's face was turning red. I glanced toward my mother. She was fighting a smile.

Dad remained gruff and accusatory.

"Who are you? I was expecting your older brother William."

Jeff got a confused look on his face and shook his head slowly. "I don't have an older brother. Where did you hear that? Ashley, did you tell him I had an older brother?"

"No. I didn't mention a name at all," I said.

"The phone ... What about the work he did representing our government in Venezuela, trying to smooth relations?" Dad asked.

"Well, it certainly wasn't my older brother since I don't have one."

Jeff got a quizzical look on his face and sounded almost incredulous at the idea he was about to suggest.

"You didn't snoop into Ashley's phone records, did you? My phone is registered in my first name, William, although I haven't used it for a while. I assure you though, I haven't represented our government in any capacity."

As difficult as it may have been for Jeff to maintain his act, I could barely restrain myself from breaking out laughing.

"But that William Goldberg, the address ... How old are you?" asked my Father.

"How old are you?" asked Jeff.

He turned to my Mother and said, "I'd ask you Mrs. Fine, but I know how impolite that would be."

"I'm sorry. You're right," said my Father. I don't recall ever hearing him apologize before. I'm sure it was a ploy.

"It's forgotten," said Jeff. It sounded sincere, with an edge of dismissiveness.

I was awed by the performance. I had expected my Father to destroy Jeff. Instead, he was suffering the death by a thousand cuts. Jeff was late; my Father's fault, and his rudeness to point it out.

Everything Jeff said sounded gracious as he characterized what my Father said as ill-mannered. He caught him on snooping to get information on him, though he surely didn't do it himself.

Jeff apparently planted some stories on the internet to make his "brother" match the name on his phone making my Father look like an idiot talking about a fictitious person. I was sure he wasn't done.

My Mother seized on Jeff's graciousness by saying, "Why don't we sit down to dinner and start again?"

"What a wonderful suggestion," said Jeff.

He walked over to my Father, offered his hand and said, "I'm Jeff Goldberg. Pleased to meet you..." The sound of the "you" was up and elongated. There was no mistaking that he was asking my Father's first name.

Having so thoroughly embarrassed himself, my Father could not fail to shake Jeff's hand. "Ebenezer Fine."

Jeff coughed abruptly, I'm sure, to keep from laughing. He returned to the only empty seat at the table.

My Father was so thrown off his game that, not only could he not form the withering questions and accusations he probably had planned, he couldn't even think of anything to say to generate a conversation.

Mom surprised me by killing the silence.

"Jeff, Ashley said you have some important job, but she didn't tell us what you do."

"I'm kind of a biochemist."

"Kind of?" asked Dad. If he had a moustache he would have been twirling it.

Jeff was unflappable.

"I'm working on a computer model of body systems. I hope to combine the way we replicate DNA, including mutations, and use it to produce proteins, with all the other components of cells to generalize a model of cellular operation that can be differentiated to predict the effects of changes to the nutrition and chemical environment on the functioning and development of the various systems. Then, based on that..."

I hated to cut him off, he was so enthusiastic.

"Jeff, do the guys you work with understand everything you're talking about?"

"Not entirely. Some of their top-level scientists understood it well enough to convince management to make their offer."

"I think you've already gone past our ability to understand what you're talking about," I said. "Mom, Jeff's a computer biochemist, kind of."

She laughed. My Father had been ready to pounce on Jeff's answer of 'kind of a biochemist, ' but as Jeff answered, Dad's eyes seemed to glaze over.

"I don't mean to be dismissive, but you seem awfully young to be doing that kind of work," said my Mother.

"I have an undergraduate degree and I'm going back to school for my Doctorate in a month," Jeff said.

"I, I don't mean to harp on it, but you seem young even for having a college degree," she said.

"Well, I'm only one degree older than high school," said Jeff.

Dad waited until the hiatus between dinner and dessert to start in with his plan.

"Jeff," you pathetic loser, Dad said. Well, it was in his voice, "Ashley said you're planning on getting married. What do you expect to live on, her trust fund?"

"We weren't planning on getting married until after she graduates. I should have my Ph.D. by then and I'm going to be paid very well. I don't think we'll have to touch her trust fund, even if she decides to go to graduate school herself," said Jeff.

"Ashley, you should have filled them in. They're your parents. No wonder they seem so put off."