Page 30 of The Best of Times
She shooed him down the stairs.
As he got to the door, he swallowed hard and flung it open. As predicted, his father was on the other side. His hair had gone fully grey now and a few wrinkles had appeared. Even so, he still looked healthy. His father had always been a fitness fanatic. When things were at their worst with Aron’s mother, he and his dad would go out for long runs in the park.
“Dad.”
“Aron.”
His father pulled him into a tight embrace. Aron froze for a second then returned it.
“Let me look at you,” his father said, standing back. “Wow. Have you been working out?”
“Everyone does in New York.”
“It suits you.”
Aron led his father into the house.
“We’re in the sunroom,” Aron said over his shoulder.
“How informal. I don’t know if I should be honoured or worried. Where is she?”
“Upstairs. She tried on her suit.”
“And?”
“Beautiful.”
His father let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness for that.”
They were in the sunroom now. The view of the garden made intense by floor-to-ceiling windows with plants on the inside. In the summer, Granny could throw them open and let the outside in. They had been a recent installation and Aron thoroughly approved.
His apartment in New York had a windowsill as an outside area. He wasn’t too far from Central Park though so he could go down there in the warm weather and escape the crazy city heat.
Aron sat down on the sofa. His father sat on the other end. A strange move when there were two very comfortable armchairs.
“Actually, I should get us a drink,” Aron said.
He began to get up. His dad reached across and took his hand.
“While we’ve got this time alone, there’s something I need to ask you.”
Slowly, Aron sat. He didn’t like the sound of this. Although, when his father had insisted on visiting, Aron had suspected there was an ulterior motive at play.
“Oh yes?”
His father slowly took a breath. Aron noticed he was still reaching out for his son.
This is really fucking weird.
“It’s your mother…”
Oh God, is she dying?
“What about her?”
They both snapped to attention. Granny marched into the kitchen that led off the sunroom in an open-plan style. She had really perfected the art of entering a room at exactly the right moment.
“Mother.”
