Page 24 of Day Break

- Logan Pearsall Smith

Lane

I had never once considered just how conniving my family was until I received a phone call from my parents inviting me to dinner one Friday night.

Actually, scratch that. They didn’t invite. They demanded that I show up.

If I’d had anything better going on, I would have declined. As it was, I wasn’t in the mood to argue with them and accepted the invite.

I had been stuck in meetings for most of the week and only had one chance to call my grandfather to check up on him. He’d sounded happy enough, and we had chatted almost a full hour before my phone buzzed with another call.

When I parked at my parents’ home, the home I’d spent most of my youth in, I took several deep breaths to try and settle myself.

Since returning to Seattle, I’d learned to limit my contact with my parents. There were fewer arguments about… well, everything, this way.

I parked behind my parents’ new SUV and rushed through the rain to the shelter of the front porch.

How many good times had I had under this very cover during a rainstorm? Too many. My first kiss was with Laura Summers right here. Or maybe it had been Becca Landry?

Out of respect, I rang the doorbell before entering.

My parents were already in the dining room, sitting at the table sipping wine. They looked at me as if I was late, even though I was five minutes early.

My uncle Robert and his wife Reba were on one side of the table with Aunt Kate and her husband Donnie on the other.

My uncle Robert and my father looked nothing alike, which always threw everyone off. Robert was shorter and had jet black hair and very Italian features. Reba was petite and blonde, with no real features that stood out or offended, as I’d overheard my uncle say many times.

I glanced around and realized they’d left me the open chair across from my cousin Phillip. He was a year older than me and roughly twenty pounds heavier. Other than that, we could have been brothers in the looks department.

Derrick, my other cousin, who was two years older than I was, was currently in Vegas. No doubt selling something.

My only female cousin, Tiffany, was probably at home with her husband Mark and their newborn son, Johnny.

I’d had no clue that the family would be there tonight, which probably meant this was a family intervention of sorts. Most likely a chance for them to gang up on me and complain about how I’d been handling grandpa.

Taking another deep breath, I walked over, kissed my mother’s cheek, handed her the bundle of flowers that I was obligated to purchase for her whenever I was invited into her domain, then sat down in my designated spot.

My mother was a beautiful person, at least on the outside. She always wore the top designers and at no point in my memory had she not had perfect hair and nails.

“It’s good that you can finally join us,” my father said, his eyes narrowing. It ate at me how much I looked like my old man. Twenty-four years from now, I’d look like that.

I opened my mouth to remind him that I was five minutes early but knew better. My father wouldn’t let it go if I argued with him. In his house, he was always right. “I ran into traffic,” I lied. He smiled and nodded quickly.

“Robert and Phillip were just filling us in on their plan for Robert’s reelection,” my mother said, her eyes urging them to speak as Lita, my parents live-in helper, started serving dinner.

For as long as I could remember, there had been someone in the house lending them a hand. When I was younger, it was a nanny of sorts that would shuttle me and Sherry to and from school, practices, or play dates. After I’d grown up, she’d become a full-time chef and maid. Now, Lita did it all, organizing everything around the house.

My parents no longer lifted a finger. Hell, half the time they didn’t even talk to one another. Lita acted as a go-between. Why they remained married was beyond me. Then again, they’d probably kill one another fighting over how to split their wealth. We were a real War of the Roses sort of family.

“Yes.” Robert spoke first. “We were just saying that this time, it would help to have Dad’s support.”

I held in a groan.

“The old man’s just rotting away up there on the island,” Phillip added as he sipped his wine and then moved aside for Lita to deliver his plate. My cousin didn’t even say thank you. Instead, he appeared annoyed about the distraction. “We’re thinking about having him do a couple interviews. Maybe showcase his donations, some highlights of—”

“You got grandfather to agree to donate to the campaign?” I broke in.

I knew better. My grandfather’s stand on politics had never wavered. After all, he was an ex-senator. Since his retirement from the seat almost ten years earlier, he’d never once wanted to wade into the field again. He’d made that very clear the first time my uncle had run for Congress.