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“Mom, I’m thirty-two. I have a friend who is almost forty and is having a baby. She doesn’t think she’s too old.”
“Well, all I’m saying is there isn’t a need to still raise children at sixty.”
“Mama, you do know that Carter is almost forty, right? Even if we have a child in the next year, Carter will be 59 when he or she is twenty. And if we have more...” She let her shrug finish the sentence.
“Well, and if he isn’t healthy, there is no telling if he’ll even be alive then.”
“Mama. Stop. And would you think about what you’re saying? Do you remember what Carter looks like? Does for a living?”
“I know he’s one of those security guys, but I’ve seen some pretty unhealthy-looking ones. Besides, it doesn’t take long to lose that physique. I’m just saying youth does help when raising children. You might think about that yourself. Since you’ve been with Carter, I know you’ve been eating better, but are you getting any exercise?”
Becky’s mom was five foot nothing and weighed about one hundred pounds soaking wet. But she didn’t have her mother’s body type like her sister Trish, who was a naturally slender but taller version of their mother. Becky was fluffy, cuddly, and soft, just as Carter liked her.
Candace never was a nurturer. She made sure all your needs were met but as far as the parent you snuggled up with, that wasn’t her. Becky realized while her father was the more fun parent growing up, she didn’t have hugging parents. Not like she and Carter would be with any kids they had.
“You know how you are when you get comfortable in your life.”
“Right, and we are done with this conversation.”
“Well, think about it. I’m only saying it to help you in the future.”
Time for a subject change. “Mom, do you think Dad is still at the office?”
“Probably. Why don’t you call him and find out when we’ll have dinner? It’s time he came home at a normal hour with his daughter here to visit.”
“I think I will. Be right back.”
As she punched in the phone number, she saw a new SUV pull into the drive. She knew it wasn’t her dad because he never bought any big ticket item new. He bought it slightly used. “Better value.”
Knowing that about her dad, Becky expected that it was her Uncle Karl in the showy vehicle, and that was confirmed whena man that exuded money and arrogance stepped out of the car. Becky put on a cautious smile and hung up when the call to her father went to voice mail.
Karl plastered on a smile that never seemed to reach his eyes and reached out his arms to encourage a hug. Becky, never one to make others feel awkward, put on a brittle smile and went in for a hug. She controlled the shudder of distaste at his cologne and pushed through the residual feeling of being dirty as she stepped back. He was never a favorite relative.
“I’ve been invited for dinner, and I believe James is behind me. He’ll be here in a few minutes. Let’s get in out of the cold and catch up.”
Becky headed in with her uncle, frantically deciding if she should tell him what she was worried about or just show up tomorrow at the warehouse and do the inventory. She decided to do what she had learned from the people she worked with; keep your information close to your chest and only reveal it if necessary.
“Sure, I’d love to know how your family is doing.”
Thanks to her mom, she knew her aunt had just left him, and the divorce was already a bitter fight. No loss to the family, but his kids were struggling with it. She knew there had been trouble for years, but since their kids were about ten years younger than Becky, it wasn’t as easy for young adults when their parents separated. Karl and his wife waited until the last child was no longer home and then called it quits. Her mom had said it was time and it looked like she was right. Karl was as pompous as ever.
Just as they crossed the threshold, James Carrington drove into the driveway and parked his modest but well-cared-for Buick Encore behind Becky. It was a perfect size for him and his mom, except without the hefty price tag. Her mother had a smallFord Focus just for her own running around. They weren’t flashy people like her uncle.
“Princess!”
“Dad!”
She had never called him Daddy and now, when she had her own loving Daddy, it made it less awkward. She didn’t design it this way, but James Carrington had never liked to be called anything but Dad as an endearment, so she had always used Dad. It now worked out perfectly.
“What are you doing here? Did I know you were coming?”
“I told you this morning, but you must have been very busy.” Becky worried about his memory more and more. Maybe it was too much stress. She knew that might keep you in a fog sometimes.
“Yes, I must have been to have forgotten my best girl was coming.”
Dinner was full of conversation and the night ended by ten. The following morning, bright and early before anyone was up at the house, and certainly before anyone was at the warehouse, Becky went to take inventory with her father’s self-tabulating, handheld counting machine. She set it up to go to the cloud account she’d created for her father’s books. She placed everything in there. If she ran into trouble, she could recreate the whole scenario.
First, she took a video of the whole warehouse and its inventory. The shelves were neatly stacked, and where there seemed to be any chaos or jumbled stock, she took a closer video to review later. By seven a.m., she was ready to begin the count. She was nearly half done when she took a coffee break. She’d done her uncle’s side first in case he protested that she shouldn’t do his. She would compare everything later. Right now, she needed to finish the second half.
