Page 82 of Share with Me

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dad called again rightin the middle of tea time at Yun’s house. Brinley threw on her jacket and went outside to the dilapidated porch to get some privacy. It was a bit chilly in mid-December. Must be the cooler Atlantic winds sweeping onshore and through those live oak trees.

Inside the house, Aunt Ella was getting louder by the minute. Brinley wondered if Aunt Ella’s hearing was going but if she kept up the racket, her own hearing would go too. She closed the front door gently.

The once-white plastic chairs looked grimier than last week when she had first seen them. She didn’t want to sit on either one. She went up to the edge of the porch where the steps faced the covered car port. She sat down on the pine boards, rotted in some places. She wondered if these had ever been pressure-treated.

“Dad, no need to apologize.”

“We shouldn’t have left you behind,” Dad said. “Maybe you can go home to Atlanta.”

“If I’m in Atlanta, I’m going to think about work. Here, I’m getting some peace and quiet.”

“I feel bad.”

“Don’t. I’ve been working all year long. I need to stand still for a moment and not run around all the time. This is good for me.”

“Don’t get all philosophical on me, Brin.”

“You’re funny, Dad.”

“We shouldn’t have come to Paris. It was so spontaneous—”

“Dad, stop. I’m fine and you need to take my word for it. Where are you?”

“At the Palais Garnier.”

“Only your favorite opera house in all the world.” Brinley could hear faint applause on the phone. Those nearby doors leading to the theater must be opening and closing. She had been there before once. Opera wasn’t Brinley’s thing, but Mom and Dad had season tickets for operas up and down Europe, especially in Vienna. Tonight though, it was in Paris where they had spent their honeymoon some forty years ago.

“Dad, is the performance starting? I heard people clapping.”

“Just about. I want to make sure you’re all right.”

“Don’t worry about me, Dad.”

“Are you sure?”

“A zillion times sure. Go enjoy the opera.”

“In a minute.”

“Go now, Dad. I’m sure the tickets are expensive.”

“You know I don’t care about that. But I can’t get back the time we’re losing with you.”

He’s right. But nothing can be done now.

“Right now, Aunt Ella and I are having tea with Yun McMillan,” Brinley offered.

“Yun? Quincy’s grandmother?”

“Yes. We’re at her house. Yun brews some good tea.”

That seemed to allay Dad’s stress over the matter. She hadn’t known Dad to be such a worrier, but he’d been more so after the stroke. And now, he’d called her from the opera house. He’d never done that before.

“I’ll let you go before your tea gets cold. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Dad relented. “Don’t forget to check your email. My agent sent yours a counteroffer.”

Ah, yes. The oceanfront house she wanted. “I know you’re a fair businessman, Dad.”

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