Page 2 of A Tinsel Tale

“I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“I’ll have a fire roaring in the fireplace and apple cider waiting to be served,” he says.

“Can’t wait. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Kiddo.” My eyes fill with tears. I guess I’m lonelier and more homesick than I thought I was. Suddenly I can’t wait to be there. One stop for a latte then I’m on my way. It should take me less than four hours to get there.

Chicago traffic is horrible today and I keep relaxing my tight grip on the steering wheel. I hate city driving. I don’t have to tackle it much because it’s easier to walk or hail a cab or use the fabulous public transportation system than it is to drive. As I leave the city behind, the layers of stress that have been weighing me down dissipate with every mile.

On my drive, my mind wanders and I allow myself to think about home. I do miss Michigan’s lakes and trees, the open spaces and fresh air. Winters there are cozy and full of outdoor activities followed by a good thaw around a roaring fire. The close-knit community that seemed suffocating in my teens beckons like a favorite pair of old slippers. Itwillbe good to be home, I tell myself.

Four hours later I drive slowly down the pine-edged lane. The first thing I see as I pull up is my dad stepping outside onto the wraparound porch. Mags and Bruiser are at his side barking and wagging hello. He’s in his winter retirement garb, a flannel shirt and jeans. He waves his arm overhead, smiling from ear to ear. I’m swallowed up by love, guilt and grief in equal measure. My eyes sting with tears as I tear out of the car and rush up to greet him. “Daddy.” I throw my arms around him, and he gathers me tightly against his strong burly body. He smells outdoorsy and familiar, and the tears spill over.

“Hey, Kiddo.” His voice is gruff with emotion.

I keep my face buried against his chest, refusing to let go. My voice is muffled by his shirt. “I’ve missed you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come home.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You’re here now. Look at me.” He tilts my chin up and his warm brown eyes are glassy and shine with affection. “Your mom and I knew when you got your law degree, you’d be swooped up by some big fancy law office. I’m proud of you… so was your mom and don’t you ever forget that. My daughter the hotshot trial attorney.”

“Thanks Dad,” I sniffle. “How’s Puss and the horses?”

“Puss is… well Puss. When he’s not sleeping, he’s being naughty. As for the horses, they’re officially pasture potatoes. These two,” he nods at Mags and Bruiser, “have taken to sleeping on the couch when I’m out and about. You should see how guilty they look when I sneak up on ’em.” He chuckles. “They’re going to be over the moon to have you here.” I crouch down to pick up Mags the small wiry-haired rescue who is dwarfed by Bruiser, our Great Dane. “But you know who’s missed you the most? Bunny. You’re going to have to dust off your boots and take her on a few trail rides.”

“I can’t wait. I plan to get in a lot of riding,” I say. We step inside the cozy farmhouse that my parents remodeled when I was still in high school. They’d knocked down a couple of walls to create a spacious open floorplan. I breathe in the smell of wood burning in the fireplace and immediately know I’m home. I set Mags down and she scampers to Dad and jumps up and down his leg until he picks her up.

“You weren’t kidding about being spoiled,” I say. I see Dad wince as he stoops to pick up the ball of scruff. “How are you feeling, Dad?”

“I’m fine sweetie. Hobbling around like an old man but I’ll be good as new after the surgery.”

“I know you will be. Danny’s still helping out around the place?”

“Yes, he’s a great help. He’s pretty much doing most of the barn chores. Since we’re down to three horses, a rooster and a few chickens it’s not too bad.”

My cousin Danny loves the farm and all things horses. He’s been helping Dad since he was a little kid and now Dad pays him to work part time. He’s a published author and has written several best-selling western series. We’re close to the same age so we grew up together.

Dad clears his throat and looks at me nervously. “You may not want to hear this, but Jamie’s been checking in on me now and then, bearing pies. He helped Danny unload the hay bales and stack them last week.”

My heart sinks. I shrug nonchalantly but I can tell by my dad’s sympathetic expression I haven’t fooled him. “That’s sweet of him,” I say. The odds of running into Jamie just went up exponentially.

“He’s a good kid.”

“Dad!” I snort with laughter. “He’s thirty-four!”

Dad chuckles. “I still see the high school quarterback I coached. Can’t help it.” I flash back to me cheering him on as he made touchdowns look easy. I could never quite believe that all that athletic gorgeousness was mine. But he had been. He’d only had eyes for me.

“And you probably still see your geeky daughter with her nose buried in a book.”

“You mean my brilliant and beautiful daughter with a heart of gold.”

I roll my eyes affectionately. “Out of the mouths of parents,” I joke.

“It’s true. You were the prettiest girl in the county. Also, the smartest. Still are.”

“So,” I drawl out aiming for casual, “Is he seeing anyone?”

His lip quirks as his brows lift knowingly. “Jamie? Not that I’m aware of. You can ask him yourself. He’s coming over this afternoon with a load of firewood.”

“Dad!” I shriek. “I don’t want to see him.”

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