up a bit more in his bed, but even that seemed to take a lot out of him. I stood up to help him rearrange his pillows, but he waved me off.
“Your mother tells me that you’re between jobs.”
“We can talk about that some other time, Dad.”
“She also said that you were thinking about leaving Springfield.”
“Yeah, I am.”
Still holding my father’s hand, my mother turned to
face me. Her expression was less grim, but not less serious.
My father continued. “The two of us were talking and we wanted to know if you would be interested in taking over the store for me.”
I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d asked me to play a round of tennis with him. I couldn’t possibly have been equivocal in any way about my feelings for that kind of employment and surely both of them had to know that what I’d been doing for them in the store over the past few days was out of a sense of responsibility and not out of any level of interest.
“You want me to take over the store?”
“You know your way around; you know the way I like to do things.”
“That’s true, Dad.”
“And coming home to Amber would be good for you. Give you some roots.”
It didn’t seem appropriate to tell him that I wasn’t particularly concerned with roots and that even if I had been, the last place I would want to be rooted was Amber. For the first time, it occurred to me that they might have absolutely no idea what had been running through my head for the past ten years.
But beyond that, I couldn’t possibly imagine spending any length of time at the helm of Amber Cards, Gifts, and Stationery. I tried to envision myself after twenty years of such unrelenting tedium. It wasn’t difficult with my father sitting in a hospital bed.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea, Dad.”
His expression tightened. “I would be a silent partner. Give it a little thought.”
“I really don’t need to. I know how much the store means to you, but I don’t have the same feelings about the place and I can’t imagine that I ever would. I’m not cut out for that kind of work.”
He stiffened. “What kind of work are you cut out for?”
I put my head down and laughed humorlessly. “That’s a good question. I don’t have a good answer for you on that. But I know what I’m not cut out for and, if anything, the last few days in the store have proven it to me. I’d go postal there.”
My father leaned his head back in his pillow. For a few minutes, none of us spoke. Then my father turned to my mother.
“You have to call Howard Crest tomorrow. We’ve got to get the store on the market.”
“Not tomorrow, Richard. Your operation.”
“The next day, then.”
“Don’t rush anything,” I said. “I can’t do this for the long run, but I’ll take care of the store while you sell it. I don’t want you just taking the first offer that comes in. This is your nest egg.”
“You won’t go postal ?” my father asked. I wondered if sarcasm qualified as strenuous activity.
“I’ll be all right for a while,” I said, forcing myself not to react to his disapproval. “It’s not like this is going to take six months to do, right?”
“It could take a couple of months.”
“I’ll be all right for a while.” I stood up and looked at my mother. “Shouldn’t we be letting Dad rest up for tomorrow’s procedure?”
She looked in my direction only for a second before turning back to my father.
“You go ahead if you want. I’m going to stay here until visiting hours are over.”
CHAPTER SIX
In the Neighborhood
I remained diligent about watching the store for my father for a couple of weeks after that. One day, though, I stopped by only long enough to tell Tyler that I was not going to stay. I needed to get in my car and get away for the day – it was either that or stick around for another week or so and let things get to me to the point where I just drove off permanently.
My father came home from the
“Your mother tells me that you’re between jobs.”
“We can talk about that some other time, Dad.”
“She also said that you were thinking about leaving Springfield.”
“Yeah, I am.”
Still holding my father’s hand, my mother turned to
face me. Her expression was less grim, but not less serious.
My father continued. “The two of us were talking and we wanted to know if you would be interested in taking over the store for me.”
I couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d asked me to play a round of tennis with him. I couldn’t possibly have been equivocal in any way about my feelings for that kind of employment and surely both of them had to know that what I’d been doing for them in the store over the past few days was out of a sense of responsibility and not out of any level of interest.
“You want me to take over the store?”
“You know your way around; you know the way I like to do things.”
“That’s true, Dad.”
“And coming home to Amber would be good for you. Give you some roots.”
It didn’t seem appropriate to tell him that I wasn’t particularly concerned with roots and that even if I had been, the last place I would want to be rooted was Amber. For the first time, it occurred to me that they might have absolutely no idea what had been running through my head for the past ten years.
But beyond that, I couldn’t possibly imagine spending any length of time at the helm of Amber Cards, Gifts, and Stationery. I tried to envision myself after twenty years of such unrelenting tedium. It wasn’t difficult with my father sitting in a hospital bed.
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea, Dad.”
His expression tightened. “I would be a silent partner. Give it a little thought.”
“I really don’t need to. I know how much the store means to you, but I don’t have the same feelings about the place and I can’t imagine that I ever would. I’m not cut out for that kind of work.”
He stiffened. “What kind of work are you cut out for?”
I put my head down and laughed humorlessly. “That’s a good question. I don’t have a good answer for you on that. But I know what I’m not cut out for and, if anything, the last few days in the store have proven it to me. I’d go postal there.”
My father leaned his head back in his pillow. For a few minutes, none of us spoke. Then my father turned to my mother.
“You have to call Howard Crest tomorrow. We’ve got to get the store on the market.”
“Not tomorrow, Richard. Your operation.”
“The next day, then.”
“Don’t rush anything,” I said. “I can’t do this for the long run, but I’ll take care of the store while you sell it. I don’t want you just taking the first offer that comes in. This is your nest egg.”
“You won’t go postal ?” my father asked. I wondered if sarcasm qualified as strenuous activity.
“I’ll be all right for a while,” I said, forcing myself not to react to his disapproval. “It’s not like this is going to take six months to do, right?”
“It could take a couple of months.”
“I’ll be all right for a while.” I stood up and looked at my mother. “Shouldn’t we be letting Dad rest up for tomorrow’s procedure?”
She looked in my direction only for a second before turning back to my father.
“You go ahead if you want. I’m going to stay here until visiting hours are over.”
CHAPTER SIX
In the Neighborhood
I remained diligent about watching the store for my father for a couple of weeks after that. One day, though, I stopped by only long enough to tell Tyler that I was not going to stay. I needed to get in my car and get away for the day – it was either that or stick around for another week or so and let things get to me to the point where I just drove off permanently.
My father came home from the
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