THIRTEEN
Willow
Pop came home late Monday afternoon. His faithful staff and I had agreed to close the deli early—Monday night’s were typically slow anyway—and give him a small welcome back party complete with balloons and a banner. My father was thrilled to be home, and I was thrilled that he was well on his way to a complete recovery. He’d even lost a little weight while in the hospital and I planned to make sure that more pounds would come off.
“This is some sandwich,” he commented as he chomped into the new Ryan Madewell sandwich.
Ryan smiled proudly. “And it’s totally healthy.”
“Just don’t eat three of them,” I jumped in, knowing damn well my father could easily do that.
“One and a half?” No holds barred, my father reached for another half of sandwich. “They starved me in that damn hospital!”
“NO! Put it back.” Stopping him with my hand, I watched my father make the face of a reprimanded child as he reluctantly put the overstuffed sandwich back down on the platter.
He looked to Ryan for moral support, but Ryan shrugged sheepishly.
“Sorry, sir.”
“She’s a tough cookie, my daughter.”
Ryan laughed his adorable laugh. “Yeah, but I’ve gotten her to crumble a couple of times.”
Oh, had he! In fact, right now, he was melting me with his presence. But with my father back home, I wasn’t sure where things were going.