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“You’d better not be eating a gummy worm,” he remarked.
“There is no earthly reason why I would be,” his father replied.
Grant turned, his spine tensing. His father strode into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt. Even in casual clothes, Edward Taylor had a formidable presence.
“Sorry. Thought you were Rory.”
“I figured. Your mother is still sleeping, but I woke early and was making a few calls. Is there coffee?”
“Help yourself.” Grant tilted his head toward the pot. “Mugs are on the shelf over there.”
His father poured a cup, eyeing the array of food spread over the counter. “You don’t serve breakfast here, do you?”
“No. This is for Rory.” Grant flipped the French toast and dropped a pat of butter into the omelet pan. Aware of his father’s scrutiny, he started chopping chives.
“Your mother says we’re going fishing today.” Edward leaned back against the counter and sipped his coffee.
“Sure, if you want to.”
Edward shrugged. Grant dumped the chives into a bowl.
“You making an omelet?” his father asked.
“Yeah.”
“You need to turn the heat up.” Edward turned the knob on the gas burner. “Put the filling in while the eggs are cooking.”
“I know how to make an omelet, Dad.”
“I would hope so. Not many people realize there’s a technique.”
Grant set the bowl down. “Youknow how to make an omelet?”
“Damn right I do.”
Grant held out the spatula in a silent challenge. His father took it and adjusted the burner flame again.
“I was a short-order diner cook after college.” Edward made a disparagingharrumphin his throat as he salted the eggs. “Shittiest job I ever had. Long hours, low pay. The place was a dive, too. Probably could have made a book out of the health-code violations. Manager was an asshole. I kept the job because it was the only one that worked with my schedule. Finally, your mother said she was going to walk out on me if I didn’t quit.”
Grant couldn’t remember the last time his father had ever said so much to him all at once. He cut into a brick of cheese and began grating it. “Did you?”
“Turned in my notice the next day. Hated doing it, though. I never wanted to be unemployed.”
Grant paused. “Was that when you started Intellix?”
Edward nodded. He added more butter to the pan and swirled it around. “I had an idea for how to improve relational databases, and I contacted a former professor for advice. I worked on it in our apartment living room for a year before I looked for funding. Your mother didn’t complain once that we were scraping by on her paycheck. You got any mushrooms? Ham?”
“In the fridge.” Setting his knife down, Grant went to the walk-in.
“Get some spinach, too.”
After retrieving the items, Grant returned to the counter to find his father starting a bowl of filling. He set the ingredients down and focused on the French toast and bacon. Strange as it was to be cooking beside his father, it was a hell of a lot better than cold silence.
“The eggs should set immediately at the edges.” Edward poured the eggs into the hot pan. “Then you push the uncooked part toward the center. I made so many goddamn omelets, I didn’t eat eggs for a year after I quit.”
“Is that diner still open?”
“No, they shut down a while back.” Edward studied the cooking eggs. “Good riddance.”
