Page 54 of Unexpected Entanglement

“Father. Didn’t know you knew how to use your cellphone,” Chris said.

“Don’t be silly. I can press a button. It’s the typing messages thing I don’t get,” George Sullens replied.

“It’s called texting, Dad.” Chris gave a short laugh.

Ignoring him, George went straight to why he called, “When will you be home?”

Chris hadn’t considered their family’s Cape Cod house his home for a long time, but his father said home as if the house was still filled with their mother’s laughter and his grandparents’ chatter. His father himself wasn’t in residence very often. He spent most of the year in his apartment in the Boston Sullens.

“I won’t make it this weekend. I got held up,” Chris answered.

“Held up where?” George asked. “We have this weekend on the calendar for a year, Christopher.”

“I’m sorry, but don’t let me hold you if you need to go back to the city,” Chris said.

“I’m staying here for a while.”

“And bother Rosemary?” Chris questioned. “I hope you’re being nice to her, Dad.”

Rosemary was their long-time housekeeper who took care of everything around the house. Rosemary’s late husband had been their property caretaker. When Chris’ mother had passed away, the two had given him the care he’d needed when his father had been drowning in his grief.

“Rosemary likes having me around. We old people must keep each other’s company since you won’t visit.”

Rosemary had often told Chris when he was in residence that the house was too quiet since his mother had died. He agreed. Perhaps that was why he and his father had spent less and less time there over the years.

“Old? Rosemary is barely sixty. And you won’t turn sixty-five until July,” Chris pointed out.

“When you’re sixty, tell me if you don’t feel old,” George said.

Chris was pushing thirty-seven, and he’d already started feeling the fatigue of nonstop international work.

“How are your resorts doing?” George suddenly asked.

Chris knew that George Sullens had all the information about his resorts. But that he asked about them was shocking to Chris.

“They’re doing well. Thanks for asking, Dad,” Chris answered.

“I’d like to hear more about them when you come home,” George said.

Chris’ eyebrows rose in suspicion. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“You hardly ever showed an interest in my projects in the past decade. Suddenly, you want to know about my resorts?” Chris pointed out the weirdness.

“Is it so wrong for a father to want to know what my son has been doing with his life?” George’s voice went high in incredulity.

Chris scoffed. “You told me, and I quote, ‘Unless it’s about The Sullens or when you finally decide to be a part of The Sullens again, we have nothing to discuss.’”

“Is it so wrong for a father to want his son to continue on the thing he has built, what his grandfather had started?” George demanded. “Especially now that you’ve shown me what you're capable of.”

“Here we go again.” Chris looked to the sky.

“Don’t you think it’s time for you to come home, son?” George asked.

A humorless laugh escaped Chris’ lips. “Now you ask me that, Dad? You never wanted me home. Not after she’s gone.”

There was a dead silence on his father’s side. This time, when his dad said “home,” Chris knew he’d meant The Sullens Hotels. But home meant more than a company or a house to Chris. And the real meaning of home had gone at the same time his mother had been taken from them.

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