“Right here in Grantham,” Justin answered.
“So you think she’d be interested?” Nick handed the signed book to Lilah. “I mean, I’ve never heard of anyone being able to get ’nduja in the States, let alone make it.”
“Interested in what?” Lilah smiled as she read the message written in her book.
“You mean you want to meet her?” Justin asked. He pushed back his chair and beckoned his wife over.
“Well, that—”
“You mean for your show, don’t you?” Lilah said. She sat on Justin’s lap, squirming to get comfortable.
“Of course.”
Justin shook his head. “I’m not sure that would work. Penelope isn’t exactly a people person. Listen, I’m no professional, but from my experience teaching kindergarten, she seems to show a lot of the symptoms of Asperger’s—the mild form of autism. Not that she’s ever been diagnosed.”
Nick leaned on his elbows and opened his palms to the air. “I may not know your sister, but anyone who spends this kind of time and effort cooking a masterpiece like this—” he waved at his empty dish “—and then gives it to you no questions asked? You want my view?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “That person is definitely interacting with you on a fundamental basis. So she likes to be by herself. Hey, I’ve met a lot of people, and frankly, I can understand that. And that she doesn’t make chitchat in the normal superficial ways that, say, you or I do? In my case, that’s probably a good thing.”
He rose. “I tell you what. Why don’t you both think more about how I can get her to meet with me, and in the meantime I’ll clear and wash up. I may not be trusted to cook in a fine restaurant anymore, but I can still be counted on for my busboy and dishwasher abilities.”
Justin watched as Nick expertly lined multiple plates along the length of his arm without stacking. “Are you trying to show up my KP skills?”
“You’re just jealous,” Nick spoke over his shoulder as he turned toward the kitchen.
His cell phone started to chime in the back pocket of his jeans. He looked down. “Damn.” He juggled the dishes.
“Here, let me,” Lilah volunteered, hopping off Justin’s lap. “It’s not every day I get to come into close contact with a celebrity.”
Nick crooked his hip to offer up his back pocket.
Lilah slipped her fingers in gently.
“Now I’m jealous,” Justin kidded.
“Nothing wrong with a little jealousy.” Lilah slid the bar across the screen to activate the phone.
He cocked his head sideways against the screen. “Hello,” he answered the call, still juggling the plates.
“Daddy? I’m ba-ack!”
CHAPTER FOUR
IT©WAS©A©SMALL©MIRACLE that Nick hadn’t dropped the plates. Maybe it would have been better if he had.
Then he’d have an excuse to disconnect the phone and regroup before responding to the caller. Instead he looked up. “I better take this call.” He eased the plates into the sink and stepped out of the kitchen into the hallway. He figured he needed as much privacy as possible where his seventeen-year-old daughter was concerned.
“What’s up, Amara? I got your email about your graduation, but unfortunately I’m shooting an episode right now, so there’s a possibility that I won’t be able to make it.” He glanced out the arched window over the landing to the traffic below. Across the street the Grantham Public Library was ablaze with light. Maybe there still were people who read books, Nick mused.
“Well, it’s not like I really expected you to come. Since when have you made it to any of the important moments in my entire existence?” a sarcastic, high-pitched voice complained. “Anyway, Mom was the one who told me to tell you.”
Well, I was there at the moment of your conception, Nick could have said. But he wisely kept that remark to himself.
“Anyway, there’s no need for you to interrupt your busy schedule on my account,” Amara went on.
“I really want to,” Nick insisted ingenuously. Hanging out at the snotty prep school Amara attended in upstate New York—and where his well-mannered, maturely sensible ex-wife happened to work in the development office—was not high on his list of favorite activities.
“Don’t even pretend, Daddy.” She made the word sound ugly. “Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be there anyway.” The last remark was almost a throwaway.
Nick was immediately suspicious. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re not graduating? I thought you were supposed to be some hotshot student?”
“Have you ever seen a single one of my report cards?” she snapped back.
“No, but, somehow I remember you or maybe your mother…”
“Forget Mother.”
Gladly, thought Nick.
“She’s out of the picture, on her honeymoon in Tahiti with Glenn.”
“Honeymoon? Tahiti? And wait a minute. Glenn?”
Nick heard a sigh of exasperation on the other end of the line.
“God, you’re so lame. Don’t the two of you ever talk? I don’t know why I even bother to ask. Anyway, I blamed it all on defective genes, inherited from you.”
Now Nick was really suspicious. “Back up there, Tonto. Blame what on me?”
“My getting kicked out. I figure I’m just keeping up the family tradition.”
So this is what fatherhood was all about? Not that he would really know, given his rare contact with his daughter. “Listen, Amara,” he responded, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. “As amusing as you may find it to pick on your old man—” he heard snickers, which didn’t improve his mood one bit “—it’s quite another to get kicked out of high school right before graduating. If nothing else, just think of how your mother will take this.” That sounded like something his father would have said about him growing up, Nick thought.
A loud whooshing noise on the phone drowned out whatever Amara was saying. That’s when he went beyond being suspicious to downright panicked. “Where are you? Did you run away?”
“Hardly. I’m at the Grantham Junction train station. I called your production-company office and the receptionist told me where you were. The school wouldn’t let me leave except into the custody of a parent. And since Mom is now doing the dirty with Glenn…”
Nick cringed at the thought. Whatever affection he had had for Amara’s mother, Jeannine, had long since vanished. Still, he couldn’t deny a sense of irritation that his ex had managed to get on with her life while he was still floundering through random relationships.
The least he could do was put on his big-boy pants and do the right thing. “So I guess this means you’re planning on staying with me, right?” he asked.
“It looks that way.” Amara was not giving an inch. “So are you going to pick me up at the station, or do you plan on sending one of your lackeys? I always thought your cameraman was kind of cute.”
Now Nick was really scared. “I’ll be there. It’ll be a few minutes. My car’s in the garage, and I’m at a dinner party right now.”
Lilah approached him with a look of concern. “Problems?” she asked.
“Are you sure that party’s just