“Anything you need. Think about it, Sassy. Down the road, you and I might be partners.”
Oh, she had thought about that a lot, but those thoughts had nothing to do with business. She studied the stack of files. “You really think I can do it?”
“I do.”
“Right on. One at a time.” She glanced behind Tom, at all the books and the few photographs on her father’s handsome bookshelves. Stepping closer, she took down the framed medal and skimmed her thumbs over the glass. “I used to think this meant something.”
He was observing her closely. “It does. Just not what you thought it meant. He still fought over there, and he still pulled Mr. Moore out of the way when he was injured. I think of it, in a way, kind of like my brothers. I have no idea what they did over there, and I never will, but they will always be heroes to me.”
His words put a smile on her face that stayed there while she continued sorting. “Are you going to move into this office?”
He shot her a careful glance. “I don’t think so. If I do, it won’t be for a long time. It’s still his. What do you think?”
She nodded, pleased. He was right. It would have been too soon.
“What’s this?” Tom muttered, pulling a small, black leather book from the box. He flipped it open, then his eyes widened. “It looks like a journal of sorts.”
“Then close it! You can’t read someone else’s diary.”
“No, no. Not like that. This is a business journal.” He turned more pages, working his way to the back. “This is amazing. No wonder his desk was always spotless. All his thoughts were in here. See? He wrote them downas he went and crossed them off when they were done.” He kept going, and his smile began to fade. “This is dated about two months ago, and there are a lot of things he didn’t cross off.”
“I can start with those, if you think I should,” she said, waiting for her turn to hold the book. It was a piece of her father, no matter if it was all about real estate. She wanted to hold it.
“Yeah, but…” He was distracted, looking through all the entries. “I don’t know if you want to see this, Sassy.”
“Why not?”
“He’s writing about other things in here as well.” He kept reading. “Even his writing has changed. He… Gosh. He was so hard on himself.”
“Let me see.”
“Wait. There’s a list here with your name on it.”
She grabbed the book from his hands, and right away she saw what he meant about the handwriting. It was in the same black ink as the rest of the entries, but the letters were messy.
“Oh, Tom,” she said, reading the title of the list and fighting tears. “This is so sad. All he had to do was talk to me.”
Things to tell Susan
1. Tell Susan I love her.
2. Tell Susan Rita couldn’t get enough of her smile, and I couldn’t get enough of Rita’s expression every time she held our daughter. Tell her about Rita. How she could sing, how her favourite colour was red, how she loved to listen to the rain, even if it meant she dragged me outside and we got soaked. I didn’t mind.
3. Tell Susan she is much smarter than she thinks she is. Her socialist attitude makes me crazy, but she sure can make a point. Even if it is wrong. If she tried, she could carry on her grandpa’s legacy. Just because Joey won’t doesn’t mean she can’t. She doesn’t need to protest for women’s rights. She just needs to stand up for herself. She’s smarter than at least half the men I know.
4. Tell Susan I miss her now that she’s at the apartment. Tell her that I snuck in to amateur night at that coffeehouse after a friend of hers phoned me to let me know about it. Nice boy. Hippy.
5. Tell Susan her stubbornness is an asset. She just has to learn to temper it and use it to her advantage.
6. Tell Susan that when this war is over, I’m going to take Joey and her to Italy, and tell them about that day.
7.
She read the list twice. Once out loud, once to herself. It was just as hard to read it the second time.
“What do you think number seven would have been?”
“Tell Susan she should give Tom a break and let him take her out for dinner.”
