Page 32 of Take It Offline

The knowing look Mom gives me says I missed the mark. “Are you sure you’d be comfortable with that? I know how upset you were when it ended.”

I drop the act. “Logan and I are adults, and besides, we’ve already seen each other, and it was perfectly fine.”

“Oh?” she asks, eager for all the details I won’t be giving her.

Thankfully, Dad chooses the perfect moment to appear.

I swear if you saw him on the street—six foot six, long limbs extending from equally long khaki shorts and polo—you’d never know he once spent more than my annual salary on a garden gnome.

“Oh, perfect. I thought I heard you come in.” His thick mustache tickles when he kisses me on both cheeks. It’s remained black, even as his hair has grayed, and I’ve never seen him without it. “A case of GSM arrived from that new vineyard I was telling you about. The one that ferments in terracotta amphora rather than oak.”

He holds the bottle like a trophy in one hand, three glasses in the other. “Sulfate free, vegan, and a steal for the price.”

I don’t even want to know what my father considers “a steal.”

As he pours, I frown at him. “Dad, it’s barely one p.m.”

He pauses, looks up. “You’re right. We need nibbles.”

Mom perks up and is already moving toward the door. “I’ll cut up some cheeses.”

I should sell tickets to this show.

“Perfect,” he says, holding a glass out to me as she disappears. As always, his broad smile melts away the last of my concern. “Cheers, pumpkin.”

As out of touch as my parents are from the real world, there’s one responsibility they always came at with enthusiasm, and that’s me. There were times it was too much—when I was fourteen, I spent every weekend at a different friend’s house to get some peace—but I also know how lucky I am.

They’re stubborn and quirky, and I adore them.

“A little earthy,” he says, swirling his glass. “You can taste the richness of the minerals, but it’s still young. Open her up a little, and she’ll be a great aperitif. What do you think?”

I savor the first sip. It’s an extremely smooth blend, and soon, I’m reaching for the bottle to find out more. A second sip brings out the dark fruits, with a hint of spice. “I can see what you mean. There’s something almost rustic about it. Did you just open this?”

He nods.

“It’s lovely. Did you really need more wine, though?” I gesture around us. Three hundred bottles at his disposal, and he’s always showing me something new.

“We’re trying to secure the vineyard for an event. It seemed unseemly to not buy a case.”

Change has been difficult for all of us, but teaching my dad to be frugal is almost impossible.

I sigh. “Don’t you think it’s time to hand the foundation over to someone else? You could find a new hobby.” Something less likely to keep me up at night.

Mom returns carrying a platter overflowing with more cheese, nuts, and fruit than we could possibly eat in one sitting.

“If we didn’t have the foundation to keep us busy, what would we do with ourselves? I’d rather see you step in than hand it over to anyone else,” Dad says, causing Mom to look at me in triumph.

“No,” I remind them for the fiftieth time. I can’t imagine a task I want less. “I love my job”—mostly—“and I’m happy.” Again,mostly.“I’m not interested in running a nonprofit that makes your rich friends feel good about maintaining the wealth gap.”

They frown like they always do and drop it in favor of asking about work. Dad’s always been fascinated by my job, and maybe it’s ridiculous to still want his approval at twenty-seven, butwhen he looks at me with something akin to awe and tells me he’s proud of me, it makes up for all the times I’ve wanted to give Roberts the finger and storm out.

“This is exactly why you would be such an asset to the foundation. You’re a natural problem solver.”

“He’s right, honey,” Mom chimes in. “While I enjoy the social aspects, you’d be much better suited to keeping everything organized.”

At this point, I’m beginning to think taking over might be the only way to convince them to retire for good, and it terrifies me that one day, I might have to choose between my happiness and their livelihoods. Because I already know my answer.

Every kid considers the turning point where they need to care for their parents instead of vice versa, but I never thought it would happen so soon.

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