Free A Natural Father by Sarah Mayberry

he had to get up an extra two hours early in order to have the stock on hand for their customers.

    “You know, if you’d let me manage the stock on the computer, we wouldn’t have these kinds of problems,” he said lightly.

    To his surprise, his father blew up, sending a string of expletives and curses down the phone.

    “I sick of hearing about computers. You said you not talk about them again. I expect you to honor this even if you honor nothing else!”

    Dom let his breath out between his teeth. He loved his father, but he wasn’t a little boy anymore, and he certainly didn’t have to take crap from him—especially when it was out-of-line, unearned crap.

    “Am I part of Bianco Brothers or not?” he asked.

    “You are my son. This is stupid question.”

    “Answer the question, Pa.”

    “You are part of business. You there every day. You can’t work out for yourself?”

    “So I’m an employee. Like Steve and Michael and Anna?”

    “You are my son.”

    Dom didn’t say a word, waiting for his father to stop hedging. The silence stretched tensely for long seconds before his father spoke again.

    “What you want from me? You my right-arm man,” his father said, messing up his Anglo phrasing the way he often did. “I not manage without you. There. Happy now?”

    “If that’s true, if I’m your second in command, I want a say. I want a vote. And I want a bit of respect while you’re at it,” Dom said.

    “Respect! You talk respect when you speak to your own father like he is idiot who doesn’t know anything about anything. You have place in my business, good job. You should be grateful, counting your lucky stars, instead of whining and complaining.”

    Dom held the phone away from his ear and swore long and loud. Why did he bother? Hadn’t he banged his head against this brick wall just the other day? His father didn’t want to change. He was old. And the truth was, Bianco Brothers was so successful that his father wouldn’t notice the business they would lose over the coming years as their competitors got leaner and meaner and more efficient. By the time his father was ready to retire—or he dropped dead on the job, which was just as likely—Dom would be left with the task of picking up the pieces and trying to claw back market share.

    If he chose to take it.

    “Good night, Pa,” he said. Then he ended the call.

    “My business,” his father had said. Not “our business.”

    Dom leaned against the kitchen counter. He had some decisions to make. If his father wasn’t going to allow him to grow, to have a say…Well, maybe Dom needed to forge his own way.

    LUCY FELT RIDICULOUSLY shy as she arrived at the market the following morning. Last night she’d pressed Dom’s hand against her belly, practically strong-arming him into sharing her baby’s first movements.
    What had she been thinking? As if he cared what was going on in her belly. He was her wholesale supplier, for Pete’s sake. The guy who used to sit two pews forward of her own family in church when they were kids. He didn’t want to know what her baby felt like when it kicked. Every time she remembered how she’d pressed his hand against herself her toes curled in her shoes.
    It wasn’t until after he’d gone that she’d looked in the mirror and seen how puffy and red her eyes were. There was no way he wouldn’t have guessed she’d been crying. She could only imagine what he thought of her: poor, lonely Lucy, desperate for company.

    She was relieved when she approached the stall and saw Dom was busy with another customer and his father was free. Mr. Bianco could help her with her order, and she wouldn’t have to talk to Dom today. One small thing going her way for a change.

    “Lucy. You look beautiful,” Mr. Bianco greeted her, his chubby arms spread wide.

    Dom glanced up from where he was standing nearby. His dark gaze was unreadable as he noted her.

    “I’ll look after Lucy, Pa,” he said.

    “You