often made assumptions about holidays, but it had never troubled K.O. She was going to miss her parents this year and would’ve been delighted if they’d suddenly decided to show up.
“Now I have to go to the airport on Sunday and pick him up.” Wynn gazed out the window at the lightly falling snow. “As you might’ve guessed, my father and I have a rather...difficult relationship.”
“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure what to say.
“The thing is,” Wynn continued. “My father’s like a big kid. He’ll want to be entertained every minute he’s here. He has no respect for my work or the fact that I have to go into the office every day.” Wynn had told her he met with patients most afternoons; he kept an office in a medical building not far from Blossom Street.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
Wynn accepted her condolences with a casual shrug. “The truth is, I’d rather spend my free time with you.”
He seemed as surprised by this as K.O. herself. She sensed that Wynn hadn’t been any more prepared to feel this way about her than she did about him. It was all rather unexpected and at the same time just plain wonderful.
“Maybe I can help,” K.O. suggested. “The nice thing about working at home is that I can choose my own hours.” That left her open for job interviews, Christmas letters and occasional babysitting. “My transcription work is really a godsend while I’m on my job quest. So I can help entertain him if you’d like.”
Wynn considered for a moment. “I appreciate your offer, but I don’t know if that’s the best solution.” He released a deep sigh. “I guess you could say my father’s not my biggest fan.”
“He doesn’t believe in your child-rearing ideas, either?” she teased.
He grinned. “I wish it was that simple. You’ll know what I mean once you meet him,” Wynn said. “I think I mentioned that at one time he was a world-class surfer.”
“Yes, and he manufactures some kind of special wax.”
Wynn nodded. “It’s made him rich.” He sighed again. “I know it’s a cliché, but my parents met in San Francisco in the early 70s and I think I told you they joined a commune. They were free spirits, the pair of them. Dad hated what he called ‘the establishment.’ He dropped out of college, burned his draft card, that sort of thing. He didn’t want any responsibility, didn’t even have a bank account—until about fifteen years ago, when someone offered to mass-produce his surfboard wax. And then he grabbed hold with both hands.”
K.O. wondered if he realized he was advocating his parents’ philosophy with his Free Child movement. However, she didn’t point it out.
“In the early days we moved around because any money Dad brought in was from his surfing, so the three of us followed the waves, so to speak. Then we’d periodically return to the commune. I had a wretched childhood,” he said bleakly. “They’d called me Radiant Sun, Ray for short, but at least they let me choose my own name when I was older. They hated it, which was fine by me. The only real family I had was my maternal grandparents. I moved in with the Wynns when I was ten.”
“Your parents didn’t like your name?”
“No, and this came from someone who chose the name Moon Puppy for himself. Mom liked to be called Daffodil. Her given name was Mary, which she’d rejected, along with her parents’ values.”
“But you—”
“My grandparents were the ones who saw to it that I stayed in school. They’re the ones who paid for my education. Both of them died when I was a college senior, but they were the only stable influence I had.”
“What you need while your father is here,” K.O. said, “is someone to run interference. Someone who can act as a buffer between you and your father, and that someone is me.”
Wynn didn’t look convinced.
“I want to help,” she insisted. “Really.”
He still didn’t look convinced.
“Oh, and before I forget, my sister left three messages on my phone. She wants your autograph in the worst way. I thought you could sign her copy of The Free Child next Friday when—” It suddenly occurred to her that if Wynn’s father was visiting, he wouldn’t be able to watch the twins with her. “Oh, no,” she whispered, unable to hide her disappointment.
“What’s wrong?”
“I—You’ll have company, so Friday night is out.” She put on a brave smile. She didn’t actually need his help, but this was an opportunity