“When’s your flight?” Glenn said.
“Tomorrow morning but I’ll get a room near the airport.”
He was ready to have her gone, more than ready. But she’d stepped up and brought Lilah back on time, and Lilah would bethrilled to have her mother one more night. “Why don’t you just stay here tonight,” he said.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to wear out my welcome.”
He hefted her bag. “It’s fine. Lilah will like it.” Just one more night. He could do that.
“Thank you. That would be nice. I know you were worried about me taking her.”
“A little,” he admitted. More than a little, but she didn’t need to hear that. The main thing was she’d brought Lilah home when she said she would.
“I made meatballs,” he said, ushering her into the house, “but if you don’t want that, there’s salad.”
Chapter Ten
On Sunday, Cassie and her father went to meet Andrew at the Stamford train station. She hadn’t said anything about the suspension, and her dad hadn’t questioned the sudden visit near the end of the term—she doubted he had a sense of the school calendar—but he’d been in high spirits ever since Andrew called and said he would come up Wednesday morning. When she came back from her run, her dad was already dressed and ready to go, even though the train didn’t get in for hours.
Now he was anxiously scanning the tracks. “You said he’d be here at eleven-fifty. It’s eleven fifty-four now.”
She smiled at his impatience. “Should be here any minute.” Shelly had two girls, who he dutifully loved, but Andrew held his heart. Andrew, with his grandfather’s deliberate view of the world, who could discuss cars for hours on end or huddle with him over his workbench, painstakingly taking apart an old clock radio. Even when Cassie couldn’t bring herself to come home, she would bundle Andrew on the train to Connecticut for summer camp with Grandpa. Her father would take off a couple of weeks and the two of them played mini golf, went to the beach and tinkered in the garage. Andrew was still good about calling her father but had confided lately that conversations with Grandpa had become difficult. A lot of the same questions and last time he’d forgotten where Andrew went to school. “I told him Tulane,” Andrew said, “but he asked me again five minutes later.”
When the train lumbered into the station her dad heaved himself out of the car. “There he is!” He waved heartily to Andrew, who was making his way down the platform with a clutch of other commuters.
Andrew raised a hand in greeting but even from a distance Cassie could tell he was down. He stowed his bag in the trunk and gave them both a hug, but in the back seat he stared out the window with a tightness in his jaw. He had Phil’s dark hair and fair skin, but looked peakier than usual, like all the sunshine had been drained out of him.
“Grandpa wanted to go to Bobby’s,” Cassie said. “Is that okay?”
“Bobby’s is fine,” he said without much enthusiasm.
Bobby’s was her father’s favorite place, a no-frills diner on Laurelton’s main street, where he used to take Andrew for hamburgers and orange soda. It had been their go-to place for ages, long after nicer, trendier restaurants opened up. Bobby’s was frozen in time, run by the same family for decades. The name scrawled in neon, the blue awning faded. No restaurant would be allowed a neon sign in Laurelton these days, but Bobby’s was a relic. So out of date no one would hear of changing it. The tables were Formica, the menus plastic, but people called ahead for the meatloaf and pies. Her dad loved Bobby’s with an unwavering devotion, and whenever he took Andrew out for a treat, they always went there.
They settled into a vinyl booth and her dad ordered two orange sodas. “For me and my grandson,” he told the waitress.
Andrew hadn’t said much since he got off the train, which wasn’t like him. He was usually a talker, at least when it came to friends and school and the latest car he found interesting. He could talk up a storm about that kind of thing. Not so much his feelings. But now he was quiet, which Cassie didn’t like. And he had dark circles under his eyes too.
“How were things at Dad’s?” she ventured. She’d been a little surprised he’d only stayed three nights.
“Okay.” Andrew fiddled with the saltshaker like he used to do when he was little. “We went for sushi one night, then the next day he had to work late, so I just hung out. Last night we had dinner with Natalie and her kids.”
“Who’s Natalie?” her father said.
“Phil’s fiancée, Dad.” The wordfiancéesounded ridiculously fluffy. It conjured up bridesmaids and rehearsal dinners. The man was fifty, for God’s sake. And honestly, with everything going on with Andrew, Phil could have spent a couple of nights alone with him without dragging Natalie and the kids along. “How was that?” she said, hoping to sound noncommittal.
Andrew shrugged. “They’re kind of annoying. They’re like five and seven. The little one, Kyle, kept having to go to the bathroom.”
“Phil’s getting married?” her father said. “You didn’t tell me that.”
Cassie nodded wearily. “I did, Dad.”
“When?” He frowned at her like the whole thing was her fault. Which maybe it was. She’d been inattentive to her marriage, she realized that now. She and Phil had started out with such high hopes, newly minted lawyers ready to conquer New York. It took two to do daily battle in Manhattan, and they were a well-oiled machine. Even after she dialed back her career to work for the city, they still had it figured out. He researched private schools; she remembered the doorman at Christmas. They’d always been good partners, but somewhere along the way that’s what it became—a partnership. Sure, they had sex every so often, but it had been years since they’d strolled along the river holding hands. She should have carved out time, insisted they get off the treadmill once in a while. Phil’s hours were impossible, at the beck and call of clients. And even her jobdemanded she work late sometimes. Maybe no one’s marriage could prosper in a place as ravenous as New York. Hers certainly hadn’t.
“The wedding’s in October,” she said.
Andrew twirled the salt, knocking it over this time. “I meant to tell you…Dad asked me to be his best man.”
Her heart, which she’d thought was immune at this point, cracked open just a little bit more. Of course Andrew would be in the wedding. It would have been unthinkable of Phil to leave him out. But still. The thought of her son standing up in a tux, toasting Phil and his new bride made something wilt inside her. She summoned a smile. “Where are they having it?”
