He paused.
“She’s probably right anyway. You know me. I’m not much for crowds.”
That wasn’t true.
My father had spent five decades working beside hundreds of people.
He could start a conversation with almost anyone.
He wasn’t making an excuse for himself.
He was making one for Karen.
That was exactly the kind of man he was.
He took someone else’s unkindness and reshaped it into something easier for everyone else to live with.
“I’ll call you back, Dad.”
I walked into the dining room.
Karen was arranging silverware.
The good set.
The one she only used for holidays or special guests.
“Why did you tell my father not to come?”
She placed a fork beside a plate and turned toward me.
She didn’t look surprised.
“Rick, you know how my parents are.”
“What does that have to do with Dad?”
She sighed.
