“You’re quiet,” Leo said, glancing over at Shannon. She’d been looking out the window on the passenger side of his truck without saying a word since they left the studio, and he hadn’t a clue what she was thinking.
She seemed to take a minute to pull her thoughts away from wherever they’d been. “Sorry. I’m thinking about stuff.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for one thing, you need a place to store your pieces of glass for the fireworks.”
“How do you … ? Oh, right, Amanda must have told you. Yeah, it’s getting to be a problem. I can’t take the pieces home because of Walter. And all the temporary storage places where I could rent space would require putting in shelving which would be too expensive.”
“My second bedroom has bookshelves built along one wall. Would it work to store your glass there?”
“Are you kidding me? Close to the installation site, complete with shelving, and free? That’s as perfect as it gets.” He looked over at her again. “Oh, uh … maybe I’m assuming too much. Do we need to be talking rental terms?”
She shook her head and a small smile appeared. “Of course not. I wouldn’t offer the space if I didn’t mean it to be free.”
“Then I accept. Thank you. Amanda will be thrilled to get my glass out of the office.”
“Why don’t we go back and get the pieces now?”
“How about tomorrow? Before I take you home.”
“If that’s what you want, great.” The glass storage settled, Shannon retreated again into silence.
“But where to keep my glass is not what’s really bothering you.” It wasn’t a question.
His prodding was met with another silence for what seemed like a long time. Finally, in a small voice he’d never heard her use, she said, “She’s so beautiful.”
“Who is? Amanda?” He couldn’t figure out what his studio mate had to do with anything.
“Cathy. She’s gorgeous and talented and has great clothes and probably kisses like a porn star and … ”
“You’re jealous?” He stared at her until the light they were waiting at turned green. “You are, aren’t you?” He couldn’t help it. He grinned.
“No, absolutely not.” She shook her head. “Well, maybe a little. A tiny bit.” The headshake turned into a nod. “Okay, I’m jealous. She’s perfect. And I am decidedly not.”
“Let’s see, you’re jealous of my ex-girlfriend; you tell me your family secrets after a bad evening; you wear sexy underwear for me and you woo my dog with custom-made dog biscuits. Why, Ms. Morgan, I do believe you’re beginning to have feelings for me.”
“I never said I didn’t.”
“You sure as hell haven’t exactly been open about it.” Leo wanted to say more, wanted to call her on her inability to tell him how she felt about their relationship but he was afraid to push too hard and make her run.
“Okay, maybe I haven’t been. I’ve never told a man I … ” She stared up at the roof of the truck as if she were hoping to see the space station appear there. “I cared for him.”
“Then never said ‘I love you’ either, I’d guess.”
She shook her head, still not looking at him.
“You’ve come dangerously close to the L word by calling us lovers, though. After all, ‘lovers’ contains the L word.”
“The L word? I thought the L word was ‘lesbian.’ At least, the TV show said it was.” A smile flickered across her face.
“I assume you have noticed on the occasions when I have been naked with you that I am not eligible to be a lesbian, not without surgical intervention,” Leo said.
The smile was now a full-fledged grin. “Yes, I have most definitely noticed.”
He pulled the car to the curb in front of his house and cut the engine. With one finger on her chin, he turned her face toward him, and with all the seriousness he could muster, said, “Why’s it so bad to think we might turn out to be more than friends?”
“It’s not bad; it’s scary. Suppose … ” She broke off the sentence and returned her gaze to the roof of the truck cab, every muscle in her face tense.
“Suppose … what? Suppose it doesn’t work out? Suppose it’s not real? Suppose I turn out to be the advance scout for the zombie apocalypse?”
He thought he could see her face relax.
“I don’t think you’re any more a zombie than you are a lesbian.”
“I’m relieved. So what’s the ‘suppose’ factor?”
“When I look around, I see a lot of failed relationships. I mean, look how it turned out for my mom.”
“Your father really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
“More like on my mom.”
“He may have left your mom, but he did a number on you both.” Leo slid toward her and collected her into his arms. “I’m sorry for what happened to you and your mom. But you’re not your mom and I’m not your dad.” He kissed the side of her head. “If we go inside where there are more comfortable places to sit than on the gearshift and hand brake, I’ll continue trying to convince you I’m trustworthy.”
She laughed. “If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re trustworthy. But going inside is a good idea. Walter’s waiting for us.”
• • •
The following day, Leo and Shannon spent hours packing up dozens of thin glass tubes of varying colors, sizes and shapes, securing them in the back of Leo’s pickup truck and transporting them to Vancouver where they schlepped them from the truck to the small bedroom Shannon used as a home office. By the time they were finished, the shelves along one side of the room were stacked with glass and Shannon’s books were piled on the floor.
Leo was right. Amanda was effusive in her thanks. She’d kissed and hugged Shannon when the GlassCo office was clear of the pieces. Now there was space for the other two studio mates to store the work they were creating for their shows at the end of the summer.
After the last load of glass was safely stored in Shannon’s house, Leo left to go home and Shannon took a walk around the Historic Reserve. It was a lovely evening; it had been another wonderful weekend. Well, except for Friday’s dinner which she’d managed to forget for the past two days because being with Leo wiped most every bad thing from her mind. Just as being at his house had removed the worry about either her father or Jeremy showing up at her house. When she finally got up the nerve to check her phone, neither had called, texted, or emailed. She was safe.
For the moment.
• • •
The moment ended on Monday afternoon when her father showed up at work. Shannon was beginning to wonder if there was a sign she’d missed on the front of city hall saying, The door is always open to anyone who wants to hassle Shannon Morgan.
Marty Morgan smiled and said, “Knock, knock” then walked into her cubicle without waiting for an invitation. He plopped down on the chair beside her desk and said, “We didn’t leave things on a very good footing on Friday. I’m sorry about that. Mostly because we need to get some things straightened out.”
“Hello to you, too, Daddy. And please, feel free to interrupt me at my workplace anytime you want. I have no responsibilities other than dealing with you.”
“If I thought you’d return a phone call or an email, I might not have to drop in like this. But you’d ignore them, wouldn’t you?”
“You don’t know my phone number or email address.”
“Jeremy gave them to me. Answer my question about whether you’d respond if I’d tried to use them.”
“I don’t honestly know, Daddy. You made me angry on Friday ambushing me the way you did. I mean, in spite of the fact I only see you every couple of years when you bounce in and out of my life like a basketball, you seem to think you know what’s best for me.”
“I don’t think that, sweetheart. I just want my daughter to be happy. And to try and forgive her old dad for not always being around. It was your grandfather’s last wish that we get this sorted out between us.”
“If his death was so sudden, how come you know what his last wish was?”
“Well, not his last last wish. His last wish that he told me about. When I talked to him the last time.” He shifted in the chair and picked up a pencil from her desk, bouncing the eraser end on the arm of the chair. “You know he always loved you. You were his favorite grandchild, just like I was his favorite son.”
“You were his only son and I was his only grandchild, Daddy. Don’t try that approach to make me feel sorry for you. It won’t work.”
“Whatever. He wanted us to be closer. He wanted you to be happy. I told him about your friend Jeremy and he was very impressed with what he heard. Said he thought you’d make a good couple.”
Shannon closed her eyes and calmed herself. “Let me make it clear. It’s over with Jeremy. We dated for a while. He left. I’ve moved on. I have a new boyfriend. End of story.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I know that Jeremy thinks it could be something else.”
“You believe him over your own daughter?” She was beginning to lose it again.
“Not necessarily. But I do recognize when people are making mistakes. I should. I’ve made enough of them in my life. Jeremy recognizes he made a mistake and wants to make it up. And I don’t want you to make the mistake of turning away someone who’s good for you.”
“I’m not. He isn’t.” She turned back to her desk, shuffling papers, hoping her father would take the hint.
“Looks like you’re trying to tell me the conversation is over. I’m not sure it is, but I’ll leave on one condition. I want you to go out to dinner with Louise and me … ”
“No. No dinners where I’m bushwhacked. Sorry.”
“Let me finish. I want you to go out to dinner with Louise and me—only the three of us—so you can get to know her. She liked you. Said she admired your spirit. We want you to come to Las Vegas when we get married. Be part of the wedding. That’s another thing your grandfather wanted—he met Louise a few months back and said he hoped we could all be together at the wedding. I know Louise wants it, too. In fact, I think she wants to talk to you about an idea she has. And remember, I have your inheritance to deliver to you.”
Shannon closed her eyes, trying to think of a reason to say no. She couldn’t come up with one. But then, that was the story of her life—knowing in her head she should say no when he didn’t treat her the way she wanted him to, but saying yes in the hopes that, somehow, he would be different this time. Opening her eyes, she said, “All right. I’ll do it, as long as it’s only you and Louise. Where and when?”
“You tell me this time.”
“Okay, Wednesday night. Right after work. Meet me at the entrance to city hall at five-thirty. We’ll have dinner in the restaurant at the Hilton next door.”
“It’s a date.” He stood, leaned over her desk, and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, sweetheart. I knew you wouldn’t be cruel to your old dad.” With no more good-bye than there had been a hello, he sauntered out of her cubicle, whistling.