Stranger (39 page)

“Are you ready?”

He smiled. “You act like your family’s a pack of cannibals or something.”

“No. They’re not that bad.” I laughed and ruffled a hand over his hair. “They’re just not used to me bringing anyone home. You’re probably going to get a lot of attention from my niece and nephew.”

“That’s okay. So long as your dad doesn’t ask me to go for a walk out back to where he keeps his guns or anything.”

“Oh, Sam.” I punched his upper arm lightly and rolled my eyes. “My dad doesn’t have any guns.”

Sam grinned and kissed me. “Cattle prod?”

“C’mon, let’s go in before they wonder what we’re doing out here.” I sighed. “Because you know they’re all peeking out the windows.”

He peered around me to look up at the house. “Can I ask you something before we go in?”

I’d already put my hand on the door handle, but I stopped before opening it. “Sure.”

“Why didn’t you ever bring anyone home before?”

That was a heavy question with no simple answer, and one I didn’t think we had time to really discuss at the moment. “I guess I haven’t met anyone in a long time who I wanted to keep around long enough to bother introducing to my family.”

Sam’s grin tickled my insides. “Didn’t I tell you that you wouldn’t regret giving me a chance?”

“I think you mentioned it once or twice.” I ran my fingers through the soft fringes of hair over his ear.

“Are you glad?” Sam looked sincere, not joking, so I didn’t tease.

“Yes, Sam. I’m glad.”

He gave a half nod. “Me, too. Let’s go.”

Just to prove I wasn’t ashamed, I held his hand as we went into the house and I introduced him to my parents, to Craig, to Hannah and Jerry, and finally, Melanie and Simon. The kids looked up, up, up, eyes wide in little faces and mouths agape.

“Are you a giant?” asked Simon.

Sam laughed and squatted to bring himself eye to eye with my nephew. “Yo, ho, ho. But, nope. I can do magic, though.”

Simon’s eyes lit. “Like Criss Angel?”

Sam shot me a look. “Maybe not quite like him.”

He pulled a quarter from his pocket and did a passable sleight-of-hand trick to pull it from behind Simon’s ear. He then had to repeat the trick for Melanie. When the kids each took him by a hand and pulled him into the den to look at the fort they’d built with cushions, I knew he’d made two small friends.

My sister bustled in my mom’s kitchen, setting up the sandwich tray and rolls. “Grace, put out the mayo and pickles, would you?”

“You cut your hair.”

Hannah stopped and turned, one hand going to the new, shorter cut. She’d worn her hair long and pulled back for as long as I could remember. Now it swept her shoulders in a sleek bob with amber highlights. She’d changed her lipstick, too, to something brighter.

“Do you like it?” She patted her hair a little fretfully.

“It’s great.”

She smiled. “Thanks. I thought it was time for a change.”

I got out the mayo and pickles from the fridge. “Been making a lot of changes lately?”

When I reappeared from out of the fridge, my sister was staring. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I shrugged. “Just asking.”

Something flashed across her face so fast I couldn’t quite discern the expression. “Don’t forget the mustard.”

Lunch was, predictably, chaotic. The kids jabbered at Sam who fully won them over by answering every knock-knock joke with a game “Who’s there?” and laughing even when they made no sense. Craig, Jerry and my dad earnestly discussed finances and the market, both topics I knew I should pay attention to but couldn’t follow. Hannah and my mom discussed the town’s business, calling for my input now and again, though I usually had none to share. I had stories aplenty, but like a doctor I kept them confidential.

We finished lunch and the traditional Frawley women cleared the table while the men wandered into the den to admire my dad’s new big-screen television. I squeezed Sam’s hand before he followed them, and kissed him, too, for fortitude. I hurried through the cleanup as I fended off my sister’s casually probing questions and my mom’s fussing over whether or not Sam had had enough to eat.

“A big boy like that,” she said. “He’s got to have a big appetite.”

“Mom, he’s fine. Seriously.” I filled the dishwasher with soap and turned it on to run.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

Hannah and I exchanged looks and smiles, a rare instance when we were united against my mom instead of them against me. “Mom, let Grace go rescue Sam from Dad and Craig.”

My mom nodded. “Good point. Go, Grace. Before they pin him down and start interrogating him. Oh, heavens, Hannah, remember when you brought Jerry home for the first time?”

“Shit,” I said, ignoring my mom’s tut-tut. “I’d better get in there.”

Yet when I found them all, Craig and Sam were talking about New York City, and my dad and Jerry had zoned out in front of the television. The kids had been booted out of their fort and were arguing over an ancient game of Clue.

“Hey.” I sat on the edge of Sam’s chair and he put an arm around my waist. I kissed the top of his head. “Is my brother bragging again?”

Sam laughed. “He lives around the corner from the deli where I worked when I first went to the city.”

“Biggest city in the world and we both go to the same dry cleaner.” Craig shook his head.

“Small world. Do you think you’ll go back, Sam?”

Sam didn’t look at me when he answered. “I haven’t decided.”

His answer twisted my stomach. I’d teased him plenty about going back to New York, but I didn’t really expect him to go. He wouldn’t now, would he? Not now that we were together.

The conversation moved on to different things. The kids finagled Sam into playing Clue with them, and me too. We had cake and watched my mom open her presents, all of which she claimed to love and not deserve.

I couldn’t stop from looking at Sam amongst my family. Like the way he fit on my couch and in my bathroom and in my bed, he looked at home between my niece and nephew. When he got up to help my sister gather the discarded wrapping paper she even let him help her with the garbage bag, and for my sister to relinquish any sort of domestic task without specific instructions on how to complete it was something like a miracle.

I hadn’t been anxious about introducing him to my family, just a little wary, and it was a relief that everything had gone so well. Only my dad hung back from the conversations, and more than once I caught him looking at me but turning his eyes away when he saw me looking.

The party hadn’t ended when we decided to leave. As usual, I had a service to oversee in the morning.

“No rest for the wicked,” I joked as I made the rounds of hugs and kisses goodbye.

My mom patted my back. “I remember that. It’s so nice to have your dad home on the weekends now.”

My dad snorted. “Is that why you keep telling me to get a hobby so I’m out of your hair?”

“During the week,” my mom said. “It’s nice to have you home on the weekends. And not having phone calls at all hours of the night, too. I don’t miss that.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty bad,” Sam said. “It’s like sleeping with a doctor. Always on call.”

I don’t imagine it was a big secret to my family that Sam and I were sleeping together. I’m sure the gossip line had filtered to my parents about his car being there overnight. But put out there like that, it left a huge gap of silence in the conversation.

“Sam, do you sleep with my aunt Grace?” asked Simon innocently.

More silence.

“They probably don’t do much sleeping,” muttered Jerry, the comedian. Hannah slapped his arm, hard.

“And on that note,” I said brightly as I took Sam’s hand, “I think we’re out of here.”

More kissing, more hugging, though I’d probably see all of them again in the next few days. My mom even hugged and kissed Sam, insisting he come back again when she could feed him more. By the time we made it through the gauntlet of affection, I was more than ready to head home, put on a pair of sweatpants and collapse in front of the TV.

My dad caught up to us in the carport. “Grace, wait a minute.”

Sam and I stopped, but after a significant look from my dad, Sam excused himself and went to wait for me in the car. I waited until he’d disappeared around the corner before I turned to my dad. He pulled an envelope from his pocket, but I didn’t reach for it.

“What’s that?”

“Take it,” my dad said.

I did and found money inside. A lot of money. I looked up. “What’s this for?”

“Because I think you need it.” My dad held up his hands in refusal when I tried to press the envelope back into them.

“I don’t want your money, Dad. I’m okay. Really.”

“Grace, take it.” My dad’s stern voice cast me back to days of curfews and allowances. “I know you have…expenses.”

“The business is fine,” I insisted, stubborn.

“Personal expenses,” my dad said, for once looking uncomfortable. “Hourly expenses.”

If I hadn’t picked it up by then, the way he jerked his chin toward the street would have clued me in. My fingers convulsed on the envelope, crumpling it. I tried to laugh, but the noise came out sounding strangled.

“Sam’s my—”

My dad held up a hand and looked pained. “Please, Grace. I don’t want to know any more than I already do.”

“You looked at my personal accounts, Dad. Why would you do that? They have nothing to do with the business.”

“There were discrepancies,” my dad said. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t in trouble, that’s all. And then when I saw the e-mails—”

“You read my e-mail?” My laugh might have been choked, but I had no such issue now.

My voice rang through the carport loud enough to hurt my ears. My dad winced.

“Grace, I’m your father.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m not a kid anymore, Dad! Okay? You had no right to take my computer without asking, no right to look at my personal accounts and absolutely, positively
no
right to read my e-mail!”

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t in trouble!” my dad roared, but I was past being threatened by the growling.

“You wanted to check up on me!” I shouted back, stepping toward him with the envelope still clutched in my hand. “You just wanted to know my private business!”

“Yes, I did!” he shouted. “So what? I’m your dad, Grace, it’s my prerogative to keep tabs on what you’re doing! Especially when you’re making mistakes!”

I saw red. Literally. Crimson ribbons flashed in front of my eyes, and I thought the top of my head might explode. I threw the envelope at my dad’s feet. Money scattered. Neither of us bent for it.

“It’s a little late to start ‘being there’ for me, Dad.” I took several shallow, rapid breaths to ward off the rage, but it still twisted barbs inside me. “I don’t need your money. And I don’t need your advice.”

My tone made it obvious what I thought of his advice.

“Don’t you talk to me like that.”

“Don’t you talk to
me
like that,” I said through clenched teeth. “You gave me the business because I was the only one who wanted it. And sure, it’s been tough, but I’m pulling it together.

People like me. They like what I’m doing with the place. So tell me something, what really pisses you off? The fact I’m using my own money for something you don’t approve of, or the fact that I’m not failing without you there to tell me what to do and how to do it?”

My dad sputtered, his face getting red, but I didn’t wait for him to reply.

“I thought so,” I said. “I’m sorry that you’re disappointed in me, Dad, I really am. But what I do with my money is my business. And what I do with my business is my business.”

He called after me, but I didn’t look back.

I was silent and seething on the car ride back to my place, where I slammed out of Sam’s car and stomped up the stairs to my apartment. Sam followed a few moments later and helped himself to a beer from the fridge. I thought about having one, too, but my stomach had knotted so tightly I thought I might puke if I tried to drink it.

Sam watched me stalk around the living room, punching pillows into place and sweeping the scattered magazines into neat piles. I even rearranged the remote caddy. I needed something to do with my hands so I wouldn’t punch something.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said at last. “I wasn’t thinking.”

I stopped and looked at him from across the room. He leaned against the kitchen counter.

He was on his second beer.

“What?” I asked stupidly, so consumed with my own private fury I couldn’t even think of what he might have meant.

“About saying that thing about sleeping with you in front of your mom. That was stupid.”

“Oh, Sam.” I said that a lot lately. “I don’t care about that. If my parents want to pretend I’m a virgin, that’s their problem.”

The irony of that hit me. Obviously my dad knew I was having sex. Shit. He’d assumed worse than that of me. He’d thought I’d actually brought a paid-for boyfriend to my family party.

Brought a casual fuck-buddy around my niece and nephew. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

“Goddammit!” I threw a sofa pillow across the room, where it hit the wall harmlessly.

“What’s the matter?” Sam asked.

I wanted him to come over to me and enfold me the way he did so well, but he didn’t move. He tipped the beer back and set it down on the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched me.

“It’s my dad,” I said. “He’s a nosy son of a bitch.”

“Huh.” Sam’s face made me sorry I’d said anything. Dads were a sore subject with him.

“What did he do?”

“He tried to give me money.”

Sam raised a brow. “And that’s bad because…?”

I sighed. “He thinks I need it.”

“Not following you.”

“He thinks I’m ruining his business, but I’m not.”

Sam nodded as if that made sense. “He’s your dad, Grace. I’m sure he’s just worried about you.”

I snorted indelicately. “He read my private e-mails. He dug into my personal bank accounts. He totally crossed the line this time.”

“I’m sure you’ll get over it,” Sam said.

Oh, he did
not
just tell me I’d get over it.