by Amber Crewes
“Call me Henry,” Meghan’s father ordered.
“Henry,” Jack repeated obediently. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Jack was a tall man, but Henry Truman was even taller; Meghan’s father towered over Jack, making Jack look like a little boy. Henry was also brawnier than Jack; Mr. Truman’s muscles protruded from his expensive-looking shirt, and Meghan could not believe how intimidated Jack appeared beside her father.
“I’m so sorry to have stood in your way,” Jack apologized as Henry stared at his outstretched hand. “I didn’t know….”
“Put your hand down,” Henry commanded as he planted a paternal kiss on Meghan’s forehead. “I’ll shake your hand when I’ve been properly introduced by my daughter. Meggie, sugar, who is this fellow? Is this the boy you’ve been speaking to your Mama about when you phone us in Texas?”
Meghan nodded. “Yes,” she admitted. “Daddy, this is Jack Irvin of the Sandy Bay Police Department. Jack, this is my father, Henry Truman, CEO and founder of The Truman Oil Company.”
Henry winked at his daughter. “That was a proper introduction. Okay Jack, now I can shake your hand.”
Henry grabbed Jack’s hand and pumped it vigorously, and Meghan watched as her boyfriend’s face turned beet-red. “Daddy, you’re hurting him,” she softly protested. “Where’s Mama?”
Henry let go of Jack’s hand, but he did not break eye contact with Meghan’s boyfriend as he answered her question. “She’s resting at our hotel,” Henry said as he smiled down at his daughter, his own dark eyes sparkling. “She’s very excited to see you; it was her idea to surprise you here in Sandy Bay during the holidays, and by the look on your face, I can tell that you had no idea we were coming up this way.”
Meghan grinned at her father, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She breathed in the familiar, musky scent of Brut, his favorite cologne, and she laughed as she recalled the frightened look on Jack’s face. “Daddy, you pulled one on me. I can’t believe you and Mama came up here.”
Henry’s face fell. “We feel terrible that we didn’t visit you when you lived in Los Angeles,” Henry told her quietly. “With so many children, and my business, it was just too much. Your Mama and I want to make it up to you now; we’re staying for a whole week!”
Meghan clapped her hands in excitement. “Who is home watching the children?” she asked, thinking of her many younger siblings back in Texas.
Henry smiled coyly. “We hired a nanny,” he informed her. “His name is Garrett, and he is quite helpful; he cooks, he cleans, and he makes sure all things run smoothly at home. Your Mama is an angel for electing to stay home with all of her children, and having another pair of hands has been so good for her nerves.”
Meghan beamed and took her father’s hands. “I’m just so happy the pair of you are here. Sandy Bay is adorable, and I cannot wait to show you the bakery.”
Henry hugged his daughter. “I cannot wait to see what your hard work has resulted in,” he whispered into her ear. “You’ve always been my good girl, Meghan. Your mother and I are so proud of you.”
Jack stepped into the conversation. “Can I suggest dinner? We could all go out and get to know each other. My treat.”
Henry shook his head. “Shhh, John, can’t you see I’m having a conversation with my daughter?”
Meghan giggled. “It’s Jack, Daddy.”
“Jack, John, same thing,” Henry sighed. “Dinner is out of the question tonight; your mother is fast asleep in the hotel room, and I am about to drop dead of exhaustion myself. We will plan on being at your bakery bright and early, Meghan, for a grand tour. What do you say?”
Meghan blushed. “It’s a small bakery, so it is not quite grand, but yes, please come!”
Jack cleared his throat. “It’s a great bakery,” he protested. “You should be proud.”
Henry raised an eyebrow at Jack. “Let my daughter speak for herself. Anyway, we will see you tomorrow, Meghan. We love you.”
Meghan’s heart warmed as her father kissed her head, and she squeezed his hand. “Thank you for coming, Daddy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As Jack and Meghan drove home from the event, Meghan could see that Jack was flustered; his cheeks were red, his eyes were narrowed, and his hands were white as he gripped the steering wheel. Meghan knew that her father had not been particularly warm to Jack, but she was unfazed; Henry Truman was notorious for being cold and aloof with his daughters’ boyfriends, and Meghan thought that their introduction had gone well.
“I think he really liked you,” she assured him as he turned onto her street.
“Oh? What gave you that impression? When he wouldn’t shake my hand at first, or when he corrected me for speaking up for you?” he responded angrily. “Why didn’t you tell me they were in town? Some notice would have been nice, Meghan.”
Meghan shifted awkwardly in her seat. “I didn’t know they were coming,” she insisted as she tucked a stray dark hair behind her ear. “You heard the conversation, babe. I had no idea. They never visited me when I lived in Los Angeles, so I never expected to see them here without even a word.”
Jack sighed. “I know,” he said softly. “I heard. I’m just annoyed with myself for not making a better impression on your father. You are important to me, Meghan. I love you. You are so special to me, and someday, who knows? Maybe your father and I will be family. I just want him to respect me as someone who cares deeply for his daughter and treats her well.”
“He will,” she pleaded. “Just give him some time. He will come around to you, Jack. I promise: by tomorrow, the two of you will be the best of friends!”
____________________
“I don’t like him,” Henry whispered into Meghan’s ear as they walked into Luciano’s, Meghan and Jack’s favorite Italian restaurant in Sandy Bay. “He just seems too nervous.”
“He is nervous, Daddy,” she told her father as the tuxedo-clad waiter guided the group to their table. “Just give him a break. I really like this one.”
At nine that morning, Henry and his wife, Rebecca, had shown up at Truly Sweet. “Darling,” Meghan’s mother had cooed as she embraced her. “It is so nice to see you. Daddy told me you were so surprised.”
“I was,” Meghan affirmed as she brushed a small piece of lint from her freshly-ironed collared shirt. She had carefully chosen her outfit with her mother’s fine, Southern taste in mind, and Meghan was proud of the ensemble she had selected. Her collared shirt was carefully tucked into a maroon and tan skirt, and a matching maroon sweater was carefully draped across her shoulders. A string of bulbous white pearls graced Meghan’s collarbone, and the buttons on her shirt matched the tiny buttons on her brown leather boots.
“Are those your house clothes?” Rebecca asked her daughter, eyeing Meghan’s outfit. “Surely you don’t often wear those things around guests. Run upstairs and change, Sugar.”
Meghan said nothing, but she turned on her heel and dashed upstairs to change. “My mother has never approved of the way I look, or the way I dress,” she grumbled to her dogs who were resting peacefully on her bed. She wrestled with the buttons of her blouse. “With her little waist and long, glossy blonde hair, my mother has always looked like a doll. My sisters look just like her. I’m the only one in the family with dark hair, dark eyes, and curves. I just wish she would think about something else for a change instead of the way I look.”
“Meghan? What is taking so long?” she heard her mother call as she threw a pale pink sweater over her head.
“Be right down,” she replied, thinking back to how similar this encounter felt to her days in Texas as a teenager.
As Meghan descended the steps, she saw her parents admiring a display case filled with holiday-themed pastries. “Those were made fresh this morning,” she announced. “I tried to incorporate all of the winter holidays with my designs.”
“They are simply fabulous,” Rebecca murmured as she gingerly picked up a cookie in the shape of a dreidel. “You are so
creative, Meghan. I’m so happy you decided to give up on being an actress. Your creativity is better suited here in the bakery.”
Meghan smiled. “Thanks,” she said to her Mum. “I’m happy here, and my business is thriving; I’ve been written about in five magazines this year, and I’m excited to see what next year brings.”
Henry patted his daughter on the head. “Your entrepreneurial spirit is impressive,” he declared to her. “You’ve really made this a special thing. Your mother and I are so proud of you.”
Before Meghan could thank her parents for their compliment, Jack burst into the bakery. “Hey, everyone,” he said as he clumsily reached for Rebecca’s hand. “You must be Meghan’s mother. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Truman.”
Rebecca eyed Jack up and down. “It’s Rebecca,” she said dismissively. “You must be John.”
Jack bit his lip, but Meghan shushed him before he could correct her mother. “It’s Jack,” she murmured. “Jack Irvin. He is a detective. Isn’t that exciting?”
Rebecca said nothing, but walked to stand next to her husband, threading her arm through his.
“Meghan? The hotel we’re staying at really serves great food but I’d like something different today. Is there somewhere you could recommend?”
Jack began to nod, his overexcitement making Meghan uncomfortable. “Luciano’s!” he shouted. “It’s our favorite Italian restaurant. Let’s take them there, Meghan.”
Meghan shook her head. “My mother doesn’t like Italian. She doesn’t eat carbs.”
Henry waved his hand. “It’s fine, Sugar,” he told Meghan. “If Johnny here wants to take us out for Italian, then we’ll go eat Italian. Let’s see what kind of taste Johnny here has.”
3
As the Trumans and Jack walked towards Luciano’s, Meghan’s heart crumbled as she spotted a group of homeless people begging for change. They looked exhausted, and Meghan felt guilty as her parents shepherded her toward the expensive Italian restaurant.
“Can I sing to you folks for a dollar?”
The group turned to see a middle-aged man in a tattered trench coat smiling at them. He was wearing a scraggly white beard and a Santa hat, and his disheveled appearance, as well as the stench emitting from his clothing, was impossible to ignore. He had an enormous pair of headphones atop his head, and he bobbed and swayed to the soft strains of music that came out of the speakers.
“Daddy, let’s listen to him,” Meghan pleaded as her father tugged on her arm. “He wants to work for our money. Let’s give him a listen.”
Henry shook his head. “It’s not in good taste to appease those kinds of people,” he whispered to Meghan as Mrs. Truman ducked inside the restaurant. “You should know better than that.”
“Meghan! Ciao, Bella.”
Roberto Luciano, the Italian-born founder and owner of Luciano’s, bustled outside. “Is this man bothering you? It’s been bad for my business to have this group hanging out around here. Come, let me usher you inside. Dessert is on the house tonight.”
Meghan smiled kindly at Roberto. “It’s good to see you, Roberto. This is my father. He and my mother are visiting from Texas.”
Roberto’s face glowed. He leaned over and kissed Henry on both cheeks. “I can only say grazie to you for choosing Luciano’s,” Roberto cooed. “This is the best Italian restaurant in the Pacific Northwest, if I do say so myself, and Meghan and Jack come here often.”
Meghan saw Jack shiver as a gust of ocean air stung his cheeks. “Come,” Roberto said as he saw Jack’s shoulders shake. “It’s a cold night. Let’s get you all inside and warm you up with some fettuccine. Again, my apologies for this...sight….outside of my restaurant.”
Meghan waved apologetically at the group of homeless people, feeling guilty that she was about to go enjoy food and fun with her family when these folks were stuck in the cold.
“Don’t think about them,” Jack said, seeing the sad look on Meghan’s face as they walked into the restaurant. “let’s just enjoy our dinner, Meghan. There’s nothing you can do to help them.”
Meghan nodded and followed Jack inside of the restaurant. The dining room was painted in deep reds, smoldering oranges, and soft yellows, and Meghan felt as though she had been whisked away to Tuscany. Italian songs played softly on the radio, and the room was aglow with flickering candle light that made the large space feel intimate.
“I reserved their best table,” Jack boasted to Mr. and Mrs. Truman. “That one over there in the corner is the very nicest.”
Rebecca frowned. “It looks a little cramped, and it’s a booth,” she said in disgust. “Booths are for people who eat in diners, or for small children. Henry? I would prefer a real table.”
Henry nodded. He beckoned over Angela, Roberto’s oldest daughter. Angela was the manager of the restaurant, and with her waist-length black hair and sparkling dark eyes, she was arguably the most beautiful woman in Sandy Bay.
“Ciao, Bella,” Henry said to Angela with a wink. “Tell me, are there any tables left besides that little cramped booth? My gorgeous wife and I would prefer something a bit more...elegant.”
Angela smiled graciously. “Si, sir,” she breathed, her heavy accent clearly charming Henry. “Let me show you to our private dining space. I believe that will best accommodate you.”
When Angela ensured the group was settled in a quiet private dining room, Henry smirked at Jack. “I thought you said that booth was the best table in the house,” he announced. “Seems like a private dining room is a little more refined, Johnny.”
“It’s Jack,” Jack muttered under his breath as Meghan squeezed his knee beneath the table.
“Now, I wonder what this place has to offer. I hope they have that dish you love Henry. Remember when we had it on our vacation last summer? We stayed in the most beautiful little villa in the Italian countryside, Meghan.”
Meghan’s smile was strained, but she nodded politely. “That sounds nice, Mama.”
Angela returned to the table with four menus, as well as a glass pitcher filled with ice water. “Let me tell you about our special tonight,” Angela said. “The lamb is divine; the red sauce atop the platter was made by my father this morning, and I have never tasted anything finer. The fettuccine is the perfect choice for our pasta-enthusiasts, and of course, we have a safer dish for the less adventurous. Our chicken dish is delicious, of course, but for those looking for an experience, I would recommend the lamb or the pasta.”
Meghan grinned. “I would love the lamb,” she told Angela.
“Excellent. And for your lovely parents?”
Henry handed the menu back to Angela. “We’ll take the pasta dish and the lamb; we are going to split both.”
Angela beamed. “Fantastico,” she said, and then, turning to Jack, “and for you?”
Jack awkwardly gave his menu to Angela. “I’ll take the chicken,” he murmured as Rebecca’s blue eyes grew wide.
“The chicken?” Henry questioned. “We’re at a nice place, Johnny. Why don’t you try something a little less...bland?”
Jack’s cheeks turned red, and Meghan took his hand, bringing it atop the table for all to see. She squeezed it lovingly, but Jack’s eyes remained distraught. “He wants chicken, Daddy. It isn’t a big deal.”
Angela retreated from the dining room, and Rebecca addressed Jack, “I’ve just never heard of someone ordering chicken at a fine dining establishment.”
Jack shrugged. “It’s my favorite,” he muttered.
Rebecca pursed her lips. “Interesting,” she offered.
Meghan quickly changed the subject. “Mama, I have some exciting news.”
Rebecca’s eyes shined. “You’ve finally joined weight watchers?”
Meghan’s face darkened. “No,” she whispered.
Henry put his hands up. “Rebecca, you stop that. Our Meghan is perfect. She is the spitting image of my mother, and my mother was a beautiful woman, inside and out.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I kno
w you think your mother was perfect,” she sighed to her husband. “Meghan? What was your news?”
Meghan sat tall in her seat. “I am going to expand the bakery next year; Truly Sweet has been a massive success, and after some careful thinking, I have decided to add three light lunch options to our menu.”
Rebecca clapped her hands in excitement. “That’s delightful, dear,” she said. “Just make sure you don’t indulge too much; I know it can be easy for you to snack when food is around.”
Jack put his arm around Meghan. “I’m proud of Meghan for going after her dreams,” he declared to the table.
“Jack, just relax,” Meghan said to Jack under her breath.
“As are we,” Henry countered, placing his arm around his own wife’s shoulder. “As Meghan’s parents, we only want the best for our daughter.”