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“Who keeps messaging?” I asked, ignoring the little voice in my head telling me to be quiet.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s obviously something.”
As if sensing trouble, the kids began arguing in the backseat.
“Sam, Daphne, keep it down!” Harrison snapped.
“Daddy’s trying to drive,” I added as the light turned green. “Is there a problem?” I asked as he resumed driving.
“Okay. Look. I don’t want you to get upset…”
“Why would I get upset? Is this something to do with my father?”
He shook his head impatiently. “Why does everything have to be about you?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean…Whatisit about? Why would I be upset?”
“I’ve been asked to organize a series of seminars at the end of August—”
“That’s great,” I interrupted.
“…in Prince Edward County.”
“Prince Edward County?” I repeated, desperately trying not to see the nameWrenthat was suddenly flashing in bold letters across my brain, or to picture her lovely face framed by her perfect hair. “But you did that last year.”
“This is different,” Harrison explained. “Apparently I was such a hit that they decided to enlarge the program, expand it into a weeklong series of lectures and events. They asked me to design the whole thing, gave me pretty much free rein to do whatever I want, bring in whomever I choose.”
“Sounds very ambitious.”
“It is.”
“But isn’t it a little late to be trying to organize all that now?”
There was a moment’s pause. “Actually, it’s been in the works for a while.”
“What do you mean, for a while? For how long?”
Harrison hesitated. “Since last fall, pretty much.”
“Since last fall? And you’re just telling me about this now?”
“I wanted to tell you earlier, but with everything that’s been going on in your life, it just never felt like the right time.”
“You’re saying it’s my fault you didn’t tell me?”
“I’m not saying it’s anybody’s fault,” he argued. “It’s just the way it is. God, why do you always have to make everything somebody’s fault?”
“I don’t always…” I stopped, aware of the sudden silence in the backseat, mindful of the old adage about little pitchers having big ears. “I take it that Wren is somehow involved in this…what would you call it?” I ventured, lowering my voice.
“I call it a huge opportunity,” Harrison replied. “And yes, she’s been helping out. Which is another reason I didn’t say anything to you before. You’ve always been so paranoid about Wren.”
“I’m not paranoid.”
“What’s paranoid?” Sam questioned from the backseat.
“What’s Wren?” Daphne asked.
