Page 23 of The Accidental Text

But now that our mom is gone, instead of finding a hobby or taking up golf, my dad has stuck his nose back into the shop.

He’s a questioner, my dad. Lots and lots of questions. Even I, his most even-tempered kid, have felt my patience run thin with his questions.

“How can we make this party even better?” he asks, his head moving from me to Chelsea to Devon, and then back to Chelsea.

“We’ve got it all covered, Dad,” Chelsea says, her face and voice indicating that she feels like this is a personal attack on her. Which, of course, it isn’t. But Chelsea has headed up most of the decisions for this party, and Devon and I have let her because we know our roles. And also, neither of us wanted to do it.

“I know, Princess,” my dad says, and Chelsea visibly relaxes, her shoulders falling just slightly. “I’ve just been looking forward to this.”

“It’s going to be great. I’ve rented the tent and ordered the food, and the DJ is scheduled. There will be an open bar and lots of opportunities to mingle.”

All the employees are invited, as well as many of our clients. It’s going to be quite the deal, with a big tent set up out in our parking lot. We’ve also asked some of our clients if they’re willing to display some of their cars we’ve worked on around the outside of the tent. The Lamborghini that is my dad’s pride and joy will be front and center. It’s currently wrapped in a bright apple-green color with the shop’s logo on both doors, the hood, and the trunk.

The ridiculous car was a “business investment.” I believethose were the words my dad used when he had the harebrained idea to buy it. I think he just always wanted a car like that. He got a killer deal on a two-year-old Huracán. He’s now had it for two years. He still sighs when he looks at it.

It does look great for the business, even if it’s the most uncomfortable car I’ve ever been in. It was not designed for a woman like me, who needs space for her purse and also doesn’t have the thigh muscles to get out of the thing without looking like a clumsy child just learning to walk. Let’s just say a fairly tall girl of five foot eight plus heels is not a fit for a Lamborghini.

It’s not like I use it. It’s my dad’s baby. Sometimes he’ll let Devon take it out or let him race it when we do our charity race, Drives for Dreams, but it mostly stays at the shop, parked up in front of the store. We regularly change out the wrap for clients to see how easy it is and how safe it is on the paint.

“Sounds great,” my dad says. “What about a comedian?”

We all look at him.

“You know,” he says, looking at each of us in turn. “Someone who can make us laugh. Couldn’t we all use a laugh?”

I look over at Chelsea and see her throat bob.

“I thought we were just going to keep it casual,” she says.

“Yeah, Dad,” Devon pipes in. “It’s just supposed to be relaxed. No agenda. No big speeches or anything.”

“What about a juggler or … maybe a clown?”

This time Chelsea gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. We’re supposed to be dressed up for this party. Jugglers and clowns probably wouldn’t fit into Chelsea’s expectations.

I clear my throat. “I think we’re running out of time for all that,” I say. “It’s in ten days.”

“It’s going to be great as we planned it, Dad. Don’t worry,” Devon offers.

My dad reaches up and swipes a hand down his face. “You’re right. I was just … trying to amp it up a bit. But let’s leave it how it is.”

Chelsea lets go of the breath she was clearly holding.

“Are you bringing anyone to the party, Devon?” my dad asks.

“I thought we weren’t bringing dates,” Chelsea says.

My dad looks to Chelsea. “Mark will be there, won’t he?”

“Well, I mean, yeah. But we’re married. He swore in his vows that he would be my arm candy till death do us part. I meant I thought we weren’t bringing people that won’t understand that this isn’t just a party—it’s also a marketing event.”

“Not for me,” my dad says. “I plan on having some fun. We all need to have fun. Let’s not get caught up in making this about sales.”

“I’m sure I could find someone to bring,” Devon pipes in, clearly getting on board with this idea.

“I was going to make Hannah come with me,” I say.

Really, Hannah insisted that she come.

---