Page 20 of Kiss My Glass
Straight into it. Cool, cool, cool.
“No, Dad. My business is growing. I can run it from wherever I am, and I’m quite capable of multi-tasking.”
“But you’re still a one-man band?”
“It’s how I like it. I don’t want to be weighed down by overheads. I want to be nimble and agile.”
“That means you have no exit plan,” says Dad. “No one will buy a sole trader business.”
“I can sell cars until I die, Dad.” My voice sounds even but I might be crushing a cookie between my fingers. “I don’t need an exit plan.”
Nate steps in. “Dad, you don’t give me a hard time and the winery is barely solvent.”
“It won’t be for long,” says Dad. “Youhave the skills to significantly grow that business.”
For fuck’s sake.
“Mitchell.” Oh great, now Mom has to defend me. “Danny loves his work, and he’s very busy with it. He’s doing Nate and Shelby a big favor by coming all this way to help out.”
“But don’t let that throw you off, Dad,” I say. “I’m sure you haven’t finished pointing out my shortcomings.”
On Dad the Durant cheekbones are like flint arrowheads. It seems impossible for his lean face to tighten any further, but it does.
“It’s important for you all to think about your future,” he says. “I know you’re young and retirement seems a long way off, but the years will pass in a blink, and if you’re not well set up, your golden years will be a struggle.”
Is that supposed to mean he’s fault-finding because he cares about me? Sure. Yeah. I’ll buy that.
“Noted, Dad,” says Nate, with a warning glance at me. End of discussion. For now.
“Nate, dear, how is Shelby?” says Mom, relieved to be able to change the subject.
“She’s doing fine,” says Nate. “Having regular check-ups and taking it very easy. And now we have Danny and Frankie here to help, she won’t have to do anything but look after herself. And the baby.”
He says “baby” like an afterthought, as if he can’t quite believe it’s real. It does seem weird to think of Nate as a father. He’s not even thirty yet.
Holy shit. And Dad and Mom will be grandparents.
“Mom, what do you want your grandma name to be?” I ask, with a grin. “Grammy? Meemaw? G-Madre?”
Mom is taken aback. “Oh! I haven’t thought?—”
“We will be Nana and Grandad,” Dad announces. “That’s what I calledmygrandparents.”
“Both sets?” Nate frowns. “How did they know which of them you were talking to?”
Dad briefly, and incredibly, blushes. “I called my father’s parents Sir and Ma’am,” he says. “But I feel that could be a little too formal.”
Nate catches my eye, and we nearly burst a blood vessel trying not to laugh. I reallywish Frankie was here. She needs to witness this shit first-hand, because it will sound too unbelievable if she hears it from me.
Maybe I’ll tell her tonight. Maybe I’ll ask her out for a drink. To anywhere other than Bartons.
“Dad, you’re welcome to join us for lunch,” says Nate.
He’s being polite because he knows Dad will refuse. Least, he’d betterrefuse. I’d walk back to Flora Valley before I’d spend another couple of hours with the old grouch.
“No, thank you,” says Dad. “I’m not entirely convinced by the provenance they claim for some of their produce.”
“Okay, Mom, it’s you and us boys,” I say. As a parting shot, I add, “And lunch is on me.”
