Boss in the Bedsheets - Kate Canterbary Page 0,117

are! Di, they're over here."

We turned to find my father bounding toward us, half jogging, half strolling as if he couldn't pin down his level of urgency. His tie was loose, his suit coat was gone, and he clutched two flutes of champagne in his hands. And he looked happier than I could ever remember.

"We've been looking for you all night," he said.

I caught Zelda's eye and stifled a laugh. "We sat across the table from you through dinner and dessert. Did you not notice?"

My father dismissed these points with a wave of his hands which sent champagne sloshing over the sides. This didn't seem to bother him.

"I hope you know you have a hot one on your hands," he said with a nod toward Zelda.

Knowing my father meant recognizing this as a comment on Zelda's skill rather than her appearance. He also referred to kids and young people as chicks because—in his mind—they were new and youthful like spring chickens. He held tight to the expression bitchin' and generally struggled to understand how any of these words made for questionable choices.

My father was as complex and imperfect as the rest of us and it only took me thirty-five years to figure it out.

I rested my hand low on Zelda's bare back. "I noticed."

My mother bustled over, her high heels now swapped out for flip-flops with watermelon slices printed on the straps and the skirt of her long dress bunched up and knotted at her knees. "We've been looking for you all night," she cried. "Why did you leave the reception? The after-party is starting soon. You have to stay for that!"

Before I could dispute any of these claims, Zelda jumped in with, "I wanted to see more of the grounds. We won't miss the after-party."

I groaned at that but only Zelda noticed, responding with a light pat to my chest intended to shut me up.

"I've been thinking about our discussion last night," my father said to Zelda.

"Which discussion was that?" I asked.

Zelda's lips pulled up into a smile. "We had a chat on the walk back from the restaurant."

"You have some smart ideas." My father gave her a wink before running an appraising glance over at me. "Zelda thinks I can spend two full days each week out of the office. Maybe three come the new year."

I bobbed my head in the best show of blindsided agreement I could manage. "That's right."

"And without fielding frantic calls from my clients or finding them on the doorstep, wondering why some suit in the city"—that was me, I was the suit in the city, the villain in this story, apparently—"will only communicate with them through email and internet portals, like some corporation."

"Of course," Zelda replied, appropriately aghast at the idea of anyone putting up with a corporation.

My father considered this, taking a sip from each flute of champagne. Then he lifted his shoulders, saying, "Let's do it."

"About time," my mother muttered.

He held out his hand, first to Zelda, then me. "I trust you kids to get it right."

Before I could ruin this unprecedented moment of peaceful professional coexistence with some kind of asshole comment about always getting it right, Zelda replied, "We will. This means as much to us as it does to you."

Tears gathered in my mother's eyes. She hooked her arm in my father's, saying, "Two of my babies are happy tonight, Carlo."

"What happened to Linden?" he asked, frowning down at her.

"Nothing happened to him," my mother replied. "That's the problem."

"I don't understand anything you're saying." He drained one flute, then the other. "What's the issue with nothing happening to him?"

"It's not one we can solve tonight." My mother cast a feral gaze back at the tent. "Although—"

Zelda hid a laugh behind her hand.

"What were you saying about the after-party?" I asked because the last thing my brother needed was a Diana-sanctioned night with a bridesmaid. It wasn't like he didn't see plenty of action from his lumberjack beard alone but a fix-up would ruin any and all of his plans to get wet in Bristol's waters. "Where is that? What's the plan? Magnolia mentioned something about chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwiches and I hope to hell she wasn't lying."

I held Zelda close to my chest as my mother lapsed into a thorough explanation of the next leg of this event. There was to be food and drink, music and games. My sister had a special dress for this, something called a romper. And yes, chocolate chip cookie ice