Page 45 of Blade
She looped her arm through his, feeling incredibly sophisticated as they walked the short distance to the display.
“They’re a timeline of his achievements,” Mr. Blade explained, pointing to the top row. “It chronicles his career in the sport, starting with the very first trophy he received for flag football when he was five.”
A chuckle came from Robert, who was standing on the other side of his father, also inspecting the trophies. “I don’t think flag football counts toward my career.”
“All of it counts,” Mr. Blade stated firmly. “That first trophy is just as important as these.” He pointed to the bottom row, and his whole face lit up, much like Robert’s often did. “These are my favorite. They’re from Rutgers. My alma mater. I was never prouder than when my son followed my footsteps into Rutgers. Well, that is, until he went pro.” He looked off to the side, re-living a memory. “I always knew he’d make it. He had the drive. The passion.” Mr. Blade raised a balled fist for emphasis. “There was no stopping him. And he still has that drive today.”
This man’s words reflected the encouragement that Robert no-doubt received his whole life, and it filled Amber with disappointment in her own father. “Robert is lucky to have a father like you.” When Robert gave her a questioning look, she realized it sounded melancholy.
Mr. Blade didn’t seem to notice and waved off the compliment. “I’m the lucky one.” He turned to wrap an arm around his son, giving Robert a rugged side hug.
The man still had vigor and strength, and spoke with fortitude, especially about Robert’s football achievements.
“I’m lucky to have two successful sons,” Mr. Blade clarified. “Have you met my eldest, Tommy?”
“Not yet. I’m looking forward to it, though.” Actually, she was nervous as hell to meet the iconic rock star and his family.
“C’mere.” Robert led Amber to the wall by the staircase that displayed photos of Robert and his brother at various ages, much like the chronological football trophies.
The boys were toddlers in the first photo. Two blond-haired, blue-eyed angels in football gear. Robert looked as if he could barely stand on his own, clutching a foam football in one chubby fist and hanging onto his older brother with the other. Amber could only imagine the pride that both Mr. Blade and Barbara had for them at that tender young age.
In each photo, the brothers still wore football gear, growing more mature and handsome as they grew older. But it was the last photo that captured two buff athletes in the prime of their teenage years. She pointed to it. “Now these two look like some serious heartbreakers. You werehot.” She raised an eyebrow. “Your brother wasn’t bad either.”
Robert burst out laughing.
“Ah, yes, my teenage sons,” Mr. Blade came up behind them and commented on the photo. “Heartbreakers indeed. Tommy settled down right away. Before he even finished college. But Robert always played the field.” He winked and displayed a smile. “In more ways than one.”
“Dad!”
Mr. Blade laughed. “I’m just teasing. Besides, it was a long time ago. Have you told Amber about my amazing grandchildren?”
“Yes,” Amber gushed. “He showed me pictures. They’re precious.”
Pride emanated from Mr. Blade’s features, outshining the light in his eyes when he showed off Robert’s trophies. “They’re as smart as can be. Way beyond their years. And they have talent that will render you speechless.”
“I can’t wait to meet them. I’m sorry they couldn’t make it to dinner today.” Amber suddenly remembered that she left Barbara alone in the kitchen and her eyes shot to Robert. “I’m supposed to be helping your mother!” She rushed in the kitchen to find Barbara happily slicing a loaf of French bread.
Barbara looked up. “Everything OK, dear?”
“I’m so sorry. Mr. Blade was showing me all of Robert’s football trophies, and I got sidetracked.”
“I know how it is once those two get to talking about football.” The corners of her eyes crinkled again.
“Can I put this on the table?” Amber went to a covered casserole dish filled with steaming hot mashed potatoes. Then her nose caught a whiff of something remarkably familiar, and she turned toward the stove. A full turkey sat in a roasting pan waiting to be carved. “You made a turkey?”
“We missed Robert for Thanksgiving.” Barbara smiled sweetly. “So, I thought I’d re-create the holiday.”
Amber felt horrible that she left Robert’s mother in the kitchen to handle Thanksgiving dinner alone. Had she known, she would have made something besides cookies. “Let me bring all this into the dining room.”
“Thank you. You’re very kind. But don’t touch the turkey. That’s Martin’s job.”
Amber imagined Mr. Blade carving the bird for his family, shoulders back and a pleased smile accentuating his ruggedly handsome features, and another image of a Norman Rockwell painting filled her head—this one of a perfect family sitting around the dining room table filled with a cornucopia of food, happy smiles on everyone’s faces. “Shall I let Mr. Blade know the turkey is ready?”
“Yes, please. That would be helpful.”
This woman was so appreciative and said please and thank you with every sentence. No wonder Robert had such excellent manners.
Amber placed the mashed potatoes on the table and then approached Robert and his father, who were still talking by the staircase. “Excuse me, Mr. Blade. Barbara asked me to let you know that the turkey is ready to be carved.”
