Page 57 of Flake It Til You Make It

“Thanks. Couldn’t imagine a better person to be on my side,” he said.

After Marjorie wandered away, he toyed with his mostly empty cup and ended up dialing his dad. They talked once a week over the phone and usually more via text, but hewasbusy. Retired, but constantly staying busy.

This wasn’t Taylor’s normal time to call, so he wasn’t sure he’d get him, but he did. “Hey, Dad,” he said when his father picked up. “How’s it going?”

“I can barely believe it,” Walter Hall said dryly. “It’s not Sunday and you’re calling.”

“I . . .uh . . .figured you might be busy,” Taylor said.

“I don’t have penuchle until five, so you’ve got thirty-five minutes,” his dad said.

“You still going with that nice old lady. What was her name again?”

“Nina and no, she ended up moving to Florida with her daughter.” But Walter didn’t sound all that disappointed. “She was kind of a nag.”

“Mom never nagged,” Taylor said before he could snatch the words back.

“No, son, she didn’t.” Walter chuckled. “So what’s the special occasion?”

“For my call? Uh, well . . .nothing special. Just was thinking about you. Met a real nice lady here, reminded me of you.”

“Oh, yeah? Would I like her?”

Taylor laughed. “What would mom say if she could see you’ve turned into such a ladies’ man?”

Walter chuckled. “She’d laugh and roll her eyes.”

There’d been a time when they couldn’t joke like this. When losing Teresa Hall had been debilitating and so painful that some days Taylor hadn’t been sure they could move on. But they had.

They’d healed, because they’d had no other choice, but that didn’t mean all that suffering hadn’t left a scar.

“She would,” Taylor agreed. “You have any big plans for the holidays?”

“Oh, you know the place here does it up big, and I’m right in the thick of it. Sometimes I don’t know whether to rage quit or be relieved that it’s me running the organizing committee.”

They’d both dealt with those scars in different ways. Taylor had gone back to their shared past, burying himself in memories, in the uncomplicated rose-gold sheen of nostalgia. He’d searched for someone who’dstick. For awhile he’d believed that was Michael, and when he’d discovered he wasn’t even close to the right answer, he’d returned to the one thing that always was: Christmas Falls.

His dad had gotten busy and maybe a tad bit over-involved.

Somehow, Taylor realized, that had put them at cross-purposes, only passing each other like ships in the night.

“You love it,” Taylor reminded his dad.

“And so do you,” Walter retorted fondly. “You’re a chip off the old block, for sure, and I’m so proud of you. Any news on the job?”

“Not anything recent. I did finally meet the other candidate.”

“He suck as much as you thought?”

“More, actually,” Taylor said with a resigned sigh.

“Well, you’re gonna get it over him. I know you, and you don’t give up when the going gets tough. You’ll do what needs done to make sure you’re the best choice for the job.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Of course Walter Hall didn’t have any clue what he’d already done to ensure the job was his. Namely, Rocco Moretti.

Whatwouldhe say about Rocco?

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