"What do you do?" Mom asked.
Manning stopped chewing at the same moment it occurred to me-Dad still didn't know the truth about how we'd met Manning. I looked to Tiffany for help, but as the realization hit her, too, her eyes sparkled.
Manning set down his fork. "I didn't realize Tiffany hadn't told you."
That got Dad's attention. He looked up. "Told us what?"
"I work construction right now. To put myself through school." He nodded behind Dad, toward the backyard. "I'm on the crew at that house next door."
"Excuse me?" Dad asked, looking at Tiffany. "What's he talking about?"
"I'm sorry I didn't mention it, Daddy." She looked contrite. "I didn't want you to get mad."
"I told you to stay away from there." Dad's voice rose. "What is the matter with you, Tiffany? Anything I tell you, you do the opposite."
"Charles." Mom touched his arm. "Stop."
He turned on her. "Did I not say this would be a problem? That transients in the neighborhood is never good?"
"What's a transient?" I asked.
"Someone who can't hold a job because they're not skilled enough to find work."
My mouth fell open. I'd known it was coming, some terrible insult meant to drive Manning away. So had Tiffany, yet she'd invited him over anyway.
Manning took his napkin from his lap and stood. "I should go. I honestly didn't realize this was an issue."
"No." My mom's voice cut like a knife through the tension. "Sit down, Manning. You're a guest in our home, and you've been nothing but polite."
Manning slowly lowered himself back into his chair.
"Polite?" Dad asked. "He didn't have the decency to mention he worked next door. It should've been the first thing he said when he came in."
"I agree," Manning said evenly. "I thought you knew."
"You have to excuse my husband," Mom said. "Charlie's been so upset about the construction."
"I understand." Manning shifted in his seat. "We try to keep it to a minimum outside work hours. We start early when it's cool, but we rarely go past five in the afternoon."
"That's a lie," Dad said. "I've heard you during dinner."
Tiffany played with her hair, and the daisy fell out. She tried forcing it back in.
"There's construction on the house behind yours, too," Manning said. "Maybe it's that."
"This is a safe neighborhood." Dad looked between us and him. "We don't like trouble."
Worried Manning might get up and try to leave again, I interjected. "There's no trouble. I've been over there."
Dad turned his head. "When?"
"Last week," Tiffany answered. She gave up on the daisy and put it on the table. "It wasn't a big deal. I was with her."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Dad asked. "I've repeatedly asked you not to bring your sister into your drama."
"I didn't." She balked. "She went over there first."
"Last week," Dad spoke over her, "Lake was in summer school. She should've been doing her reading, not-"
"Tiffany's right," I said. It was stupid of me to say I'd been there knowing how Dad would react. Quickly, I tried to come up with an excuse. "He didn't have a lunch, so I-"
"Don't interrupt me, goddamn it."
Manning sat forward. "With all due respect, sir-"
"Do you have daughters?" Dad asked him. "Are you responsible for a family? For keeping them safe?"
Manning held his stare, something dark passing over his face. "No."
"Then stay out of this. That lot is full of men who could be dangerous. Teenage girls don't need to be around that, bringing you lunch or anything else."
Manning took a deep breath and hesitated. "Lake didn't bring it to me. I came in the house."
"I beg your fucking pardon?"
"I invited him," Tiffany said.
I nodded, scared, but willing to take the rap so Manning wouldn't have to. "We both did."
"Are you hearing this, Cathy?" Dad asked, but kept his eyes on Manning. "I'm going to have a word with your foreman. You-"
"That's enough," Mom said. "Charles, you're overreacting. It's just lunch for Christ's sake, and Tiffany already told me about it."
Dad turned to her. "You knew he'd been in here?"
"Briefly. For a sandwich. It's not the end of the world." She picked up her wineglass. "Maybe you should go back to your study."
"That's fine," he said, tossing his napkin on the table as he stood. "Why should I sit at my own dining table and try to have a nice meal? I hope you're happy, Tiffany."
Once he'd left the room, we all turned to look at Manning. "I'm so sorry," Tiffany said.
"He doesn't dislike you," Mom added. "That's just how he is. He works hard and a lot, so he's grumpy when he gets home."
"It's okay. I'm just grateful to have a home-cooked meal." Manning had cleared his plate a second time. He pushed his chair back from the table. "Thank you, Mrs. Kaplan, but I really think I should go."
"But the pie," I said. I'd wanted to make Manning as happy as he'd been when he'd eaten the Lake Special the other day. I made it for you, I wanted to tell him, but I knew I couldn't, so instead I just said, "I made it."
"Please stay," Mom said to Manning. "Lake was so nervous about getting the pie right for company. She made it with fresh blueberries just for tonight. Even the crust is from scratch."
Manning hesitated. "But what about Mr. Kaplan?"
"Don't worry about him," Tiffany said. "He's always like that, I swear."
I stood. "I'll go get the pie."
Manning got up, too and picked up his plate. "I'll help serve. It's the least I can do."
Together, we went into the kitchen. Suddenly, my palms were sweaty. I wiped them on my dress and opened a utensil drawer to find a pie server. With my back to him, I said, "I'm sorry about my family."
"What for?" Manning asked.
"All of it." I glanced at him over my shoulder. "If my dad offended you at any point, I'm sorry."
Manning smiled warmly. "Don't worry about that, all right? I can take care of myself."
"I know, but I-" I want to take care of you. I wanted to protect him. Comfort him. Feed him-as many servings as it took to fill him up. I couldn't think of anything more simultaneously appropriate and inappropriate to say. A sixteen-year-old girl taking care of a grown man? It felt completely natural, like I could slot myself into his life, but it wasn't. Not yet anyway.
"Your dad's strict," he said. "I'm glad he is. He cares about you."
"Why'd you tell him you were in here?"
"This is his home. I owe him that respect."
I didn't understand it. Maybe it was a man thing.
The pie sat on a cake plate on the island. I uncovered it while Manning looked for plates.
"Use the ones with the gold leaves," I told him. "Mom likes those for guests."
"When you grow up, will you be one of those women who has specific plates just for guests?"
I smiled to myself and cut the pie as he held out a dish. We were like a couple already. A couple who could get married one day, buy a home, own special china. Tiffany would get tired of him soon, and in a few years, when I was older, nobody would even remember that Manning had once come here to meet Tiffany's parents. The real obstacle would be keeping Manning close. I was too young for him, I knew it, and he obviously knew it, but I'd be eighteen in two years. USC was close to Orange County, too. Maybe he'd come with me, back to L.A.
Was Manning the type of man who'd keep special plates for guests? I couldn't see it, but then my dad wasn't, either, and he had them.
"I don't know," I said, gently sliding a slice from the server to a plate. "Maybe. It's not just the dishes, you know. There are guest towels and guest sheets. The guest bathroom has nicer toilet paper than Tiffany's and mine."
He held out the next empty plate. "I guess for some people, it's something to aspire to."
"Not for you?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I didn't say that. But I don't know if I'll be able to afford things like that on a cop's salary. Your dad doesn't seem to think it's anything great. I guess if my wife wanted all that stuff, I'd find a way."
I looked down, breathing a little harder. The word wife from his lips gave me goosebumps. What kind of girl would make him happy enough that he'd marry her?
"What'd I tell you?" Manning asked. "I can handle myself."