Too wired to nap and too weary to lift weights, I looked around my room for inspiration. A book—but which one? I picked up my iPad and browsed through the To-Be-Read list with a “meh” reaction to everything.
There was a tap at my door. When I looked up, Dad was leaning against the door frame. “Ready to eat?”
“Sure.” I set the tablet aside and trailed him down the stairs. But, instead of going to the breakfast nook, he headed for the dining room. I paused in the arched doorway and gasped.
The table was set with my favorite pattern of crystal and china. A porcelain vase held a dozen of my favorite Double Delight roses. And waiting in the center was my all-time favorite meal with everything made from scratch. Fettucine Alfredo with homemade pasta, bruschetta, and salad with Green Goddess dressing à la Daphne Tucker.
I blinked wet eyes. “Thanks,” I said hoarsely.
With an exaggerated bow, Dad pulled out the chair at the head of the table for me, then he sat on my right and Mom on my left. Her eyes were bloodshot, but otherwise she looked okay.
I knew how hard this had to be for them. They’d made the effort anyway, and that filled me with joy.
We talked as we ate, the topics light and general. Sales revenue at the shop. The latest movies. The likelihood that the tropical storm out in the Atlantic would strengthen.
The food was amazing, the conversation fine, and no one had wept. Yet.
Beside the vase, there was a small white box tied with a red bow. Dad slid it over to me. “Here you are.”
I nodded, only momentarily curious. My parents were the masters at surprising us with great gifts—always unexpected and perfect. I tugged off the ribbon and opened the lid.
It was a set of car keys. I swallowed hard and looked up. “A Lexus?”
They nodded.
“A hybrid SUV? In silver or agate?”
They both smiled. “Yes, Sara,” my father confirmed. “You need a trustworthy vehicle for college. It’s parked at the curb.”
I snatched the keys and raced out the front door. There my Lexus sat, in all its gleaming purple glory. Unlocking it, I slid onto the driver’s seat and just drank in the beautiful dashboard and new car smell.
They’d followed me out and were standing on the sidewalk, smiling. “Get in,” I said. “I’ll take you for a drive.”
“I don’t know—” Mom said.
“We’d love to,” Dad said over her. He helped her into the front seat and then climbed in behind.
And for this evening, the Tuckers were all good.
Status Report #12
Wednesday’s wish: Disposal of Sean’s memorabilia
Dear Boss,
Sara indicated several boxes in Sean’s closet that needed my attention, claiming that they contained junk her brother refused to discard. She had, apparently, teased him about this collection often because it was full of items of little value. I was to sort them without her input.
She was mostly correct. There were dead batteries, tickets to concerts too faded to read, shoestrings, and other such peculiar items. Sean did leave several objects that might mean something to her one day. Childish sketches of animals or broken toys that could be easily fixed. I have stored them in the attic, marked with her name.
His parents celebrated with Sara today, in sharp contrast to their more typical lack of engagement. It troubles me that Sara has not used a wish for the strain within her family. I cannot say whether this is from embarrassment or from not recognizing it as an option.
I shall create small opportunities to intervene. After the Tuckers returned from an evening drive, I sought out James and asked him to assist me with carrying the remaining cartons to the garage. He was in a talkative mood. Retirement delights him, although it would be imprecise to say that he no longer works. Perhaps I can parlay that information to Sara’s benefit.
The twins were born on July first, nineteen years ago today. The Tuckers managed this milestone far better than I expected.
Regards,
Grant
