A firm knock on the front door made his heart pound. As if sensing his distress, Rex trotted over, wagging his tail. Steve smiled and knelt to scratch behind Rex’s ears. “Ready to meet my dad, buddy? Let’s hope tonight goes well.” He picked up the bowl, stepped into the living room, and opened the front door.
His dad, Trevor, stood on the small veranda, framed by the fading light of the evening. Dressed in a neatly pressed shirt and slacks, Trevor’s critical gaze swept over the tiny home, a slight frown tugging at his lips.
Rex trotted up to him, wagging his tail enthusiastically.
Steve smiled as Trevor bent down to pet the little dog. “Who’s this little one?” Trevor asked as Rex leaned against his legs, enjoying every second of his attention.
“That’s Rex. I adopted him from the local animal shelter.”
Trevor’s eyebrows rose. “They let you have dogs in the village?”
“Only small ones.” Steve didn’t know why his dad would assume he couldn’t have a pet. “Since Rex came to stay with me, I’ve slept a lot better.”
Trevor nodded, though his expression remained unreadable. “That’s good to hear.”
Steve stepped aside to let his dad in. “Come inside. How was your flight?”
Trevor unbuttoned his jacket and hung it on the hook beside the door. “It was better than the last time I flew. The plane was on time and the staff were friendly.”
Looking at his dad’s face, Steve wondered just how good it had been. But, if he said anything, it would start a long list of things his dad wasn’t happy with. Including his son. “How’s work?”
Trevor shrugged as he glanced around the tiny home. “Busy as ever. They keep adding more projects to my workload, but that’s the job.” His tone was gruff, his expression unreadable.
Steve nodded. There wasn’t much he could say to that. “I hope you’re hungry. I made Mom’s favorite chicken casserole recipe for dinner.”
Trevor’s eyes softened. “It smells good.”
Steve led his dad to the dining table and handed him the gift he was holding. “My friend, Owen, made this for you, Dad. I hope you like it. Happy birthday.”
Trevor unwrapped the bowl, his eyes widening in surprise. The glass was a stunning swirl of blues and greens, capturing the essence of the ocean. “I’m stunned, Steve. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
Steve smiled, feeling a small measure of relief. “I’m glad you like it. Owen opened his studio to the public a few months ago. I could take you there tomorrow if you’d like to see more of his work.”
Trevor nodded. “That sounds good.”
While his dad found somewhere safe to put the bowl, Steve took the chicken out of the oven. Thankfully, it looked as good as it smelled.
As they began to eat, Steve attempted to keep the conversation light. “Have you done anything else for your birthday?”
“I went fishing with a few friends the other day. We didn’t catch anything, but it was good being on the water.” Trevor took a sip of his water. “Are you still working on your sculptures?”
Steve nodded. “It keeps me busy, but I still work at the old steamboat museum, too.”
Trevor lifted a fork of mashed potatoes to his mouth. “I wouldn’t have thought there was much demand for tiny homes.”
Steve couldn’t believe his dad was so out of touch with what was happening, even after everything he’d told him. “Chronic homelessness is still a problem everywhere. The tiny homes allow communities to put affordable, warm, and safe housing in high-demand areas without it costing a fortune.”
“You aren’t homeless,” his dad pointed out. “Are you looking for somewhere else to live?”
Rex came and sat beside Steve. Heaven knew what he thought of the undercurrents swirling around the table. He patted Rex’s head, hoping it offered his little buddy some comfort. “I don’t need to find another house. This one is bigger than some of the other tiny homes, and I’m happy here.”
His dad’s soft grunt was frustrating. Why couldn’t he be happy for him instead of making everything into an issue?
Trevor lifted some of the chicken casserole toward his mouth. “What are you working on in your workshop? The last time we spoke, you were getting ready to send a large sculpture off to a client.”
Steve thought back to that conversation. It was months ago. “That one was delivered and is now sitting in their garden. I’m working on a few pieces at the moment. The largest is fifteen feet high.”
“It must be difficult building something like that.”
