“What’s she doing, Dad?”
“She got a job with that big mail-order clothes company in Dodgeville. All their operators are women your mom’s age that help people buy things, and then they chat a little about their grandchildren or the Green Bay team or whatever the customer wants to talk about. She’s all excited because one of her cookie recipes is included in this year’s holiday catalog. I think she likes being there more than she likes me right now.”
“That can’t be true.”
“She . . . Son, maybe she doesn’t love me anymore.” His dad rested his face in both hands.
Drew’s dad was as big as he was. He remembered thinking his dad was the biggest man in the world next to his grandfather when he was younger. He’d never seen his dad cry. The biggest show of emotion from him was when his mom had to have an emergency gallbladder removal a few years back. He told the surgeon that Drew’s mom was his everything and to make sure she came back to him. He wasn’t a lovey-dovey kind of a guy, but he bought Drew’s mother flowers and told her she was the love of his life when she woke up from the anesthesia.
“If she didn’t love you, she wouldn’t have called around looking for you,” Drew said. “She’s not doing this to hurt you. She might want something to occupy her time while you’re working, Dad.” He awkwardly patted his dad on the back. “Do you want me to talk to her?”
“I can handle it.”
“Then why are you here?”
His father let out a long breath. “You’re not happy I came to visit.”
“I’m always happy to see you. I’m a little confused, though.”
“If she wants a break, maybe she should have one,” his dad said. “I’ll stay for a few days, let her think about it, and then I’ll go home.”
Drew loved his family and missed them a lot, but he couldn’t imagine what his dad was going to do with himself when Drew was at the Sharks practice facility for twelve hours a day. If this kept up all week, he was also staying overnight in the team hotel before the game on Sunday; it wasn’t like his dad had any poker buddies or golf cronies in the area to hang around with.
“Dad. I love visiting with you, but I’m worried there won’t be a lot for you to do over the next few days. I have to be at the facility.”
His dad pulled a handful of colorful brochures out of his back pocket. “I got these at the airport. I’ll have plenty to do.” He dropped them on the table in front of Drew. “There’s a Museum of Flight, which has the Concorde and the space shuttle simulator. I’ve never been to the Space Needle or Pike Place Market. There’s a candy factory in some place called Issaquah. I’ve never been on a tour of the stadium you play in, and see, here’s a brochure for it.”
“Dad, I can get you a VIP tour—”
“Don’t worry about me. I have a rental car and some money. We can get together for dinner or something in the evenings. How about that?”
“Sure. I’d enjoy it.”
Drew heard the insertion of a key in the front door lock. Owen was here to start his prep for dinner. He worked for several of the Sharks during the season. Luckily for him, his other clients lived within a two-mile radius of Drew’s house.
Owen walked into the kitchen and bumped fists with Drew.
“Got your text. There’s plenty of food for both of you tonight.”
“Great.” Drew indicated his dad with a nod. “Owen, this is my dad, Neil. Dad, Owen.”
Owen extended his hand to shake Drew’s dad’s. “Nice to meet you. Are there any food sensitivities I should know about before I start?”
Neil McCoy shook his head. “Nope.” He folded his lips a little.
“My dad’s not going to ask you this, but I know he’s hoping there’s no chick food on the menu tonight.”
Owen hefted the refrigerated bags he’d brought and his knife case onto Drew’s kitchen island. “How does cilantro-lime fish tacos served with mango salsa and avocado crème sound to you? I’ve got some Mexican rice and beans to go with them. I have some dulce de leche ice cream for dessert as well.”
“Sounds great, Owen. Dad, you’ll enjoy it.” His dad looked a bit befuddled, but Drew knew his idea of cuisine was a piece of meat and a potato. He’d be okay. “Do you need anything else right now?”
“Nope.” Owen glanced over at the beers on Drew’s table. “I tried to get some of that when I was at the store last week. It sells out.”
“I had to carry the last six-pack out in my teeth,” Drew assured him. Owen let out a snort and arrayed pots and pans on Drew’s cooktop. “Want one?”