PARKER
“Morning, Mr. Scott.”
Mason and I sat, as we did most mornings, at the kitchen island. Pia had taken her coffee to the inn portion of Heritage Hill to speak with Esther who cooked breakfast every morning for guests. The original inn was an old mansion built as a private lakeside residence in the late 1800s. The “house” side where we stayed was added on and restored twenty years ago, but under Mason and Pia’s plan, all of it was getting an update. Today, though, was a day off. No work of any kind courtesy of Dad’s visit.
“Always so formal,” my dad said, heading to the coffee pot.
“Military guys,” I said of Mason. “Also just good manners.”
“Well, it makes me feel old. Parker will do just fine.”
“Doesn’t it get confusing?” Mason asked. “Same name and all.”
Dad and I exchanged a glance. It was like looking into a mirror of the future. Though my brothers were more of a mix, I was 100 percent my father. Add a sprinkle of white hair, some wrinkles and a few extra pounds in my belly, and our similarities didn’t stop at our names.
“Eh, we manage okay.” My father sat down beside me.
“Good time last night,” he said. We’d gone to O’Malley’s, as usual. Although my father only spent about half of the night with us.
“Who was the woman you met?” I asked.
“I’m going to help Pia,” my traitor of a friend said. “See you later, Mr.”—Mason cleared his throat—“Parker,” he amended.
Left alone with him, I tried to dredge up the same feelings I had for the guy when I was younger. When I looked up to him. Before he cheated. Before he left.
“A loan officer,” he said. “Divorced and pretty good-looking too.”
It had been a number of years since my parents split, but I still wasn’t comfortable talking about dating with my dad. Probably never would be. Maybe if Mom dated too, it would be different. But she didn’t, despite urging from my brothers and me. She said her sons and friends were enough, but I had a feeling she’d just been burned too much by Dad’s infidelity to try again.
“You still up for cross-country skiing?” I asked. One thing Dad and I still had in common was anything to do with the outdoors. I had to give him credit for that, at least. He’d taught me all sorts of things, from skiing to fishing and hunting.
“Sure thing. But have to skip out on dinner.”
I’d have asked why, but I already knew. My dad was so goddam predictable. Just to be sure, I said, “The woman?”
“You don’t mind, do you?”
To not have to make small talk with him all day and night? “Nah,” I said, meaning it. “I’m heading into town first to pick up some materials. Do you need anything?”
“Where is Lakeside Pharmacy?” he asked.
Strange question. “It’s just off the square. Why?”
“Can you stop and grab a script for me?”
“For?”
“Nothing special, just forgot one of my meds. Doc called it in this morning. It should be ready by now. I thought we could stop on our way out.”
Dad took a slew of medications. High cholesterol. High blood pressure. He claimed years of owning a car dealership were responsible for both, but it was more likely his affinity for bacon accounted for at least some of his problems.
“I’ll grab it. Be ready in, say, an hour?”
Dad lifted up his coffee mug. “Sounds good.” His smile, so familiar because it often mirrored my own, was disarming. This was probably, among other reasons, why Mom had taken him back so many times. The guy really was a charmer. It was hard to stay mad at him. “I’ll be ready.”
I could hear my mother’s voice in my ear.
He was a shit husband, but a good father. Remember that.
