Page 46 of 5 Golden Flings

Taking a sip of his coffee, Foster groaned in pleasure and nodded. “I was with Alice, yes.”

“My reflex is to chastise you for staying out all night. Then I remember you’re not sixteen anymore.” Leo slid the eggs onto two plates where toast and bacon were waiting, and then carried them over to the table.

Foster looked down at the unexpected gift. “Thanks, Dad. It’s been a long time since you’ve made me breakfast.”

“Well,” Leo said as he scooted up to the table, “when I woke up alone, I figured you’d have a good reason for being out all night. I hoped it was something good, not a car accident or something, but either way I knew you’d show up in sorry shape. And I was right.”

Foster tried to dismiss his father’s ability to always know what he was up to before he even knew himself. “I’m sorry for staying out all night. That wasn’t my intention. It wasn’t even a possibility when I went out for a walk last night. Then I ran into Alice in the square and plans... changed.”

Leo chuckled and took a sip of his own coffee. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Sheriff Todd on you. I can’t think of two other people in this town who deserve to have some fun more than you and Miss Jordan. Besides, I was so worn out from decorating the house that I slept like a rock in my chair. There were no alcohol-fueled hijinks going on around here to concern you.”

Foster eyed his father across the table. It had only been a few days since his father had been made his charge, but he hadn’t been any trouble yet. There was no alcohol left in the house for an easy fix. Then again, he hadn’t been left alone for long, either. Booze could always be found if he wanted it badly enough.

“Are you telling the truth, Dad?”

“Yes,” he grumbled. “I can assure you that even if I wanted to go back to my old habits, I couldn’t. My buddy Ned told me that Sheriff Todd went all around town and had me blacklisted. He talked to Emmett at Woody’s Bar, Lydia at Whittaker’s, Arthur Jackson at the gas station, and the managers of both the PigglyWiggly and the ABC store. Apparently, he threatened to have their liquor licenses pulled if anyone sold alcohol to me.”

Foster had lived in Rosewood long enough as a kid to not be surprised by the way small towns handled problems, but he was still impressed by how far Sheriff Todd would go to save Dad from himself. “I don’t think he can really do that. They aren’t breaking any laws selling to an adult.”

Leo shrugged. “They don’t know what he can and can’t do. It’s fine, though. I wouldn’t put any of them in a bad position like that. I’d drive outside of town if necessary.”

“Dad!” Foster chastised.

“I’m kidding!” he said. “Your car has me blocked in the driveway anyhow.”

“Well, I shouldn’t be leaving you alone whether you’re behaving or not. You’re my responsibility. As far as Alice is concerned, I’m just going to have to...” he fell silent because he didn’t know the answer. The thought of not spending another night with her in his arms was physically painful. But he’d taken an unnecessary risk last night. Just because his dad had behaved this time didn’t mean he would be an angel the next twenty-six days.

At some point, temptation would arise and if he wasn’t there, it could get the best of his dad. It was the time of year for parties with eggnog, holiday rum punch, and hot toddies. Just one wouldn’t hurt, after all, the well-meaning would say and thrust one into his hands. But as much as his dad loved Christmas, it was a hard time for him, too. Leo would drown his pain in glasses of holiday cheer, while Foster just pretended it wasn’t Christmas at all.

“Have her come over here,” Leo said matter-of-factly.

“Here?”

“Well, would you rather not see her? Or have me sitting beside you on every date? Just have her come here. I’ll stay out from underfoot.”

“I don’t know, Dad. That’s weird.”

“All I have to do is leave out my hearing aids and you two can scream the walls down.”

“Ugh, Dad.”

Leo chuckled. “You’re a grown man, not a teen sneaking your girlfriend in the window. Just think about it.”

Before Foster could, there was a knock at the front door. Leo got up and went to answer it while Foster shoveled his breakfast into his mouth before it got any colder.

“Hey Walter, come on in.”

Foster looked up to find a tall, thin man that looked to be in his sixties or so, standing beside his dad. He was wearing a black suit, a starched white shirt and his hair was slicked back as though brushing the long strands backward would cover the bald spot on his crown. He had no idea who the man was, or why he was so dressed up at this hour, but he hadn’t had enough sleep for deductive thought.

“Foster, this is Walter Hancock. He owns the funeral home up the street.”

It was an odd person to pay a visit before nine in the morning, but it explained the suit and the air of consolation about the man. “Nice to meet you.”

“You want some coffee, Walter?”

“Always.” The older man sat down in the empty chair at the table.

“Are you making some kind of pre-need funeral arrangements, Dad?”

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