Redhead by the Side of the Road - Anne Tyler Page 0,58

serious offense.

“With a man who earns his own living,” Roger said. “Who appears to be self-sufficient. Who works very hard, I assume, and expects no handouts.”

Brink was staring blankly at his father.

“Sorry, son,” Roger said, “but I fail to see the resemblance.”

Just like that, as if he’d planned it all along, Brink freed his arm from Lorna’s and turned to open the back door and walk out. It remained ajar behind him, letting in light and cold air.

“Oh, Roger!” Lorna said. “Brink? Come back! Go after him, Roger!”

But it was she who went after him, dislodging a kitchen chair in her path and tearing out the door and click-clicking up the steps.

Roger turned and gave Micah a look. “I apologize, Micah,” he said.

“That’s all right,” Micah said.

“I hope we didn’t wreck your Sunday.”

“Nah, I didn’t have any plans.”

Roger held out his hand; it took Micah a moment to realize that he wanted to shake again. Then he left, showing no sign of haste. He was the only one of the three who thought to close the door behind him.

Micah stood there awhile.

The percolator worked away peacefully on the counter.

He didn’t know what he had expected. A touching reunion scene? A group hug in his kitchen?

He picked up the remote, planning to return it to his office, but then he noticed Brink’s clothes on the chair—his dingy white shirt and his crumpled blazer. He set the remote down again and gathered the clothes in a clump and went to open the back door. “Hello?” he called up the stairwell.

No answer.

He climbed the steps and looked out over the parking lot. He saw Lorna walking toward him at a leisurely pace, her arms folded across her chest. “The two of them are having a talk,” she explained once she was closer. “Roger told me to give them a minute.”

“Well, Brink forgot his clothes,” Micah said. He held them up, and she reached out to take them. “Come inside and I’ll pour you some coffee,” he told her.

“I don’t want to disrupt your schedule.”

It was a little late to think of that, but he didn’t say so. He gestured toward the steps and stood back to let her go first. Without seeming to realize what she was doing, she lifted Brink’s clothes to her nose and drew in a long, deep breath as she descended.

In the kitchen, she sat down on one of the chairs and laid Brink’s clothes on the table. Micah busied himself with getting the mugs out, and two spoons and two paper napkins.

“I could just shoot Roger,” she told him.

“Huh?”

“Finding fault that way. This is not the time to nitpick!”

“Oh, well…”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see him at his best,” she said. “He’s really a very nice man.”

“I liked him, in fact,” Micah told her.

“You did?” she said. Then she said, “I got the feeling he liked you, too.”

“You sound surprised,” Micah said.

“No, no…” She studied him. “In a funny way, you two are not so different,” she said.

“Well,” he said, “except he’s a corporate lawyer and I’m a glorified handyman. Little details like that. He owns a house and I live in a basement. He has a wife and three children and I am on my own.”

“But not for good, surely,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll find somebody.”

“It’s beginning to look like I won’t,” he said.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear it.”

So far Micah had been standing at the kitchen counter, but now he crossed to the chair opposite hers and dropped into it. “Do you know why that is?” he asked her.

“No, why?”

“I meant that as a real question. Do you know what it is about me that turns women off?”

“Turns women off! You don’t turn women off!”

“In