Page 91 of Sweet Escape

“Hey,” I say, giving her a tight smile as I approach the table. “I was planning to eat at my desk. Finish up some compliance paperwork.”

My father, seated across from my aunt, is studiously ignoring me, his attention laser focused on scraping the last few pieces of pasta out of his bowl.

We haven’t spoken since our blowup three weeks ago, when he bit my head off and stormed out of my office. In the few times we’ve needed to interact since, we’ve managed to get by mostly ignoring each other.

It might be childish, but if it works for him, it works for me.

“Oh, stop it,” Sarah says, tugging out the chair to her right. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone. It won’t kill you to take fifteen minutes to sit and eat with us.”

As much as I’d rather go to my office, I acquiesce and take a seat.

Of course, the minute I’m settled, my dad stands. “I’ve gotta get back to work,” he says, heading into the house with his plate.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do,” I grumble, my words coming out with a nasty edge.

He pauses, turning back to look at me for a second before continuing inside.

I sit down to eat, but I can feel Sarah looking at me. When I glance her way, I find her watching me, the edges of her mouth tilted down, her wrinkles far more pronounced as she looks at me with obvious disappointment.

Instantly, the righteous anger inside me withers.

As much as I might be upset at my dad ... for plenty of shit ... I’ve never made it a habit of bringing my personal frustrations into anenvironment that affects the rest of our staff. And sitting at a table full of crew is not the place for me to vent my irritation.

Slowly, the people at the table around us get up to leave, but my aunt stays in her chair beside me. After I finish, I remain seated as well, the expectation that I stay behind an unspoken understanding between us.

Finally, when we’re alone on the patio, she speaks.

“What is going on between you and your father?” she asks. “You two have been grumbly at each other for weeks.”

I sigh, scratching at the beard that’s been growing in. “I told him I was upset about the announcement at Harvest-Eve and he stormed out,” I tell her, deciding to be brief but honest.

“Your father can be stubborn, but you two need to sort this out. When you have personal stuff going on, I try not to get involved. It’s just between you two. When Iamgoing to give my two cents is when it starts leaching into the crew.” She pins me with a look. “The last thing any of these sweet kids need is to be working fourteen-hour days, and dealing with stubborn owners throwing rocks at each other.”

I nod. She’s right.

Sarah pushes out of her chair and kisses the top of my head as she passes behind me, leaving me with just my thoughts.

I don’t want to “sort this out” with my dad. He can be hardheaded, and closed-minded, and refuse to see reason about things that are so small and simple.

But I respect my aunt too much to ignore her. After giving myself a few minutes, I go in search of my father. Eventually I find him in the garage, sorting through boxes that have been gathering dust in a corner for years.

Something tells me he likes to keep busy when he’s irritated, too.

“Sorry for the dig earlier,” I tell him, deciding to rip off the bandage. “I shouldn’t have done that in front of the crew.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

My jaw flexes, irritation rolling through me.

“But you’re still young,” he continues. “There are plenty of things you still clearly need to learn.”

I scoff, my already thin patience withering. I extended an olive branch, and he decides the best move is to snap it in half.

“You’re right. Thereisstill plenty that I need to learn. Maybe you should have thought of that before you just ... announced that I’d be taking over in front of the entire staff. Maybe we should have actually had a conversation about it first.”

My father sends a glare my way.

“You know what, Memphis? Maybe I should have sold this place when I had the chance. It would have been a whole lot less of a headache than dealing with this bullshit.”

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