Page 35 of Where It All Began
“I think you were really into Hazel Garfunkle, and her shutting you down in high school crushed you. So, you’ve spent the last ten years trying to look like a big shot.” He shoved the plate and his empty beer into Michael’s hands. “And until you man up and tell her how you really feel—without coming across like an asshole—and what you really want, you’re still going to be laying there at night thinking about her instead of whoever you talked into your bed that night. Now, go take these over to Phoebe without saying anything sexist or flirty to her and get me another beer.”
“I like you better when you stick to one-word answers,” Michael muttered.
“Yeah, well that makes two of us. This is what happens when I share a roof with a woman who talks a mile a minute about eighty-two different things.”
“You’re making me take these to Phoebe so you can avoid her, aren’t you? Man, she must scare the shit out of you.”
“Shut up and go away.”
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Phoebe’s plate of tabouli bean salad and tofu casserole slipped from her hands to the ground, landing facedown with a wet splat. Murdock scampered over, sniffed once, and decided he was better off waiting for another hot dog. She blinked, not trusting her eyes.
“Mom? Dad?”
“Surprise, sweetie!” Her mother’s Charlie-scented embrace was overwhelmingly familiar. The sleeveless navy dress with the starched Peter Pan collar was one of her mother’s favorites. And it too sent the sudden sting of homesickness through Phoebe.
“I can’t believe you’re here! What are you doing here? Oh, I’ve missed you guys. Dad! You’re on your feet!”
Her father, dapper in an indigo golf shirt and checkered shorts, leaned heavily on his cane and beamed at her behind his thick sunglasses. Phoebe gave him a peck on the check. “Can’t keep an old guy like me down. How’s my little girl?” he asked with so much affection that Phoebe felt like holding on to him forever. He smelled like Old Spice.
“They aren’t working you too hard, are they, my girl? Because you can always come home if you want to. I sure miss seeing your pretty smile at the dinner table. We’d be happy to keep you forever.” Her father, the overprotective father figure, took his role so seriously that Phoebe and Rose had found themselves periodically grounded for their friends’ offenses. A deterrent, Denny Allen had insisted. His little girls were going to stay his little girls forever.
“Oh, Dad. I missed you, too!”
“Now, don’t let me hog you all to myself. We brought reinforcements,” he announced, waving with his free arm toward two others.
“Rose?” Her sister, hair freshly permed, was staring adoringly up at the man next to her. He was thin and lanky. His nose was too big for his face, and his hair was already going wispy, but his smile was wide and friendly.
“Missed you, sis,” Rose said, tearing her gaze away from her beau so she could embrace her sister.
“Oh, I missed you so much,” Phoebe sighed.
“Sorry, I didn’t have time to give you a warning,” Rose whispered in her ear. “We went out for breakfast today after church, and Dad got it in his head that we should drive up here and surprise his little girl.”
Warning. Danger! Oh, shit.Phoebe was supposed to be living on afamilyfarm with a family. Not under the roof of a sexysinglefarmer who made her feel like a volcano about to erupt.
“Oh, crap,” Phoebe gasped.
“Think fast.” Rose squeezed her arms before pulling back. “And this is Melvin, the man I was telling you about,” she said in a louder voice.
The way her sister said Melvin’s name was reverential as if Pink Floyd had wandered into the picnic looking to use the bathroom, and Phoebe snuck a peek to see what her father’s reaction was to Rose’s lovesick puppy routine. She caught him, pointing his fingers at his own eyes and then back at Melvin. “I’m watching you,” he mouthed.
Melvin swallowed hard.
Phoebe greeted the terrified man and hoped all the right pleasantries were spilling out of her mouth while her brain worked on the problem at hand.
She needed a family willing to lie for her and she needed one fast.
“I hope we’re not interrupting anything,” her mother said, taking in the colorful crowd with a rather dazed look. Phoebe knew it well. It was the “introduction to Blue Moon” look when the mind tried to reconcile the past living in the present.
Clayton ambled past them in a brown fringed vest with two plates overflowing with hot dogs and potato salad. The circumference of his dark, full hair parted the crowd. He winked at her mother. “Better get some grub while it’s hot,” he said in his smooth-as-bourbon baritone.
“The Pierces are having a picnic,” Phoebe lied brightly, the lie tightening her throat like an invisible noose.
“What kind of place is this?” her dad asked, staring blankly at Rainbow and Gordon who were making out against the door of a VW Bug painted like a smiley face.
“Mom, Dad, you guys stay right here. Grab a plate and stayright here. I’m going to go find the Pierces.”
