That'll Be the Day

by Kress, Alyssa

  ~~~

  Ian's flight was scheduled for five-forty on Wednesday evening. He'd planned to pack, bring his suitcase to the office, and leave for the airport from there.

  Huh. He'd planned to ask Maggie to take care of the kids. He'd planned to bid a fond farewell to everybody and look forward to his return.

  So much for planning.

  On Wednesday morning Ian grimaced as he walked down the stairs from his bedroom. The day before, he'd lost his girlfriend, alienated the kids' aunt, and thoroughly pissed off his son. The only positive note he gleaned from all this was that things probably couldn't go any further south. He'd hit bottom.

  Or had he? He suspected the plan he'd concocted while lying sleepless all night was going to backfire in his face. If he were smart, he wouldn't bother trying it.

  In front of the swing door to the kitchen, Ian paused. Yes, his plan regarding Andy was probably going to backfire...but for God's sake, he had to do something. Even if he screwed things up the way he'd screwed them up with Maggie, he still had to try.

  Anyway, what did it matter if things managed to get yet worse? It had to be better than treading water.

  Ian drew in a breath and pushed open the door.

  The kitchen was quiet, with both kids already at the nook table eating their breakfasts.

  Ian screwed up his courage. "Good morning," he said.

  "Good morning, Daddy," Kathy mumbled, not taking her eyes off her cereal box.

  Andy said nothing, but he did look up at his father, looked at him with eyes of steel.

  Somehow Ian managed to smile. He pretended to get some breakfast for himself, though he didn't have an ounce of appetite. On top of his lack of sleep, he still felt hollow about Maggie, and every time he thought about the lecture Andy had pealed over him, a lead ball lodged in his stomach. But for form's sake, Ian took out a piece of bread and spread some jam on it.

  Now, he told himself as he stood there spreading jam. Do it now. But he put his bread on a plate and took it to the nook table first. He sat down.

  "Ahem. I've been thinking." Ian paused as he tried to settle his churning nerves. "I've been thinking about how to take care of you kids while I'm in Kansas City."

  Andy, whose steel eyes had been hard on Ian, lowered them at these words. It was a gesture that smelled of contempt.

  Ian had gone too far, however, to let Andy's reaction stop him. "Uh, it occurred to me last night after we spoke, Andy, that it might be a good idea for you to come with me."

  There was a short, astonished silence. Andy frowned at a spot on the table. Slowly, he lifted his eyes. His frown deepened as he regarded his father. "What?"

  Ian raised his piece of bread and jam, as if he were about to take a bite. "You should come with me to Kansas City."

  Andy's eyes widened.

  Ian braced himself. The kid was going to throw his offer in his face. He hated him. He wouldn't want to go away with him.

  "What?" Andy said again. "You mean, like, go on the airplane with you?"

  "I guess you'd have to, if you wanted to get to Kansas City."

  "But—I'd be missing school."

  "Only two days, and I think this would be more educational than school, anyway. You'd come to all the meetings, see how the real world works."

  Andy's eyes got even wider. "I'd get to go to your meetings?"

  Ian shrugged. Inside, he felt a tiny bubble of hope. Andy hadn't immediately shot the idea down. If Ian weren't completely mistaken, his son was actually excited by the notion. "I don't see why you couldn't," he now told Andy. "And besides...this way you could keep an eye on me yourself. Make sure I don't...overdo anything." Now Ian really did take a bite of his toast, to hide his expression as he waited for Andy's reaction.

  The conflict raging inside of Andy was plain to see. He clearly wanted to go on a trip, especially if it meant missing school. But they both knew Andy was officially mad at Ian. Plus, he'd distinctly stated the night before that he disapproved of Ian's whole business trip.

  Before Andy could come up with a response, however, Kathy spoke up. "Hey, what about me? Don't I get to go?"

  "Not this time, pumpkin." Ian turned to her with a smile. Please, be your usual easy self, he inwardly pleaded. "But next time, I promise, it'll be just you and me."

  Kathy's pinched face brightened. "Really?"

  "I promise." Ian hesitated. "But for this time, I'll call an agency for a babysitter to take care of you while we're gone."

  "An agency?" Kathy's bright face dimmed. "You mean you're going to hire somebody I don't even know?"

  "Uh—well, that's what I was—"

  "Don't be cuckoo." Kathy gave an impatient wave. "I'll stay with Aunt Maggie."

  Somehow, Ian managed not to wince. His brain scrambled, unsuccessfully, for a reason Aunt Maggie wouldn't work.

  Kathy's eyes opened wide. "She's not going with you, too?"

  "No," Ian said, perhaps too quickly.

  Kathy raised her eyebrows. She was waiting for an explanation, why she couldn't stay with her Aunt Maggie.

  "Uh..." Ian said.

  "You haven't even asked her," Kathy accused.

  "Well—" How was he supposed to explain? God, what a mess.

  An unreadable expression crossed Kathy's face. "You had a fight," she guessed.

  Ian could feel his face pale. A fight? That was a faint word to describe— But how had Kathy known?

  "Never mind." Kathy waved a hand, as if his father's problems with Maggie were a mere inconvenience. "I can ask her, can't I?"

  "Uh." The thought of having anything to do with Maggie just now, even indirectly, made his stomach queasy. But Kathy had a point. Maggie was still her aunt. Kathy hadn't done anything wrong. She shouldn't be punished for her father's mistakes.

  "Okay," he surrendered. "You can call her."

  "Right now?"

  "I guess...it would have to be now." There'd be no other chance to make the necessary arrangements.

  Kathy jumped happily from her seat at the table. She stopped, though, halfway to the kitchen phone, and turned back to regard her brother. "Should I tell her you're coming, too, or are you going with Dad?"

  Andy lifted his eyes, which had been trained on the edge of the table. He looked over at his father. Ian could feel the scales tilting the wrong way now, the lure of staying with Aunt Maggie and rejecting Ian outweighing even the notion of an adventure and missing school.

  If Ian didn't do something fast, he'd lose everything. Panicked, he blurted, "Oh, come with me, Andy. I'd really like your company."

  Wrong. Wrong, stupid, idiotic. That was probably the worst possible thing to say. If only he could snatch the words back.

  But Andy narrowed his eyes and slowly said, "All right. I guess it wouldn't be too bad." He paused. "Since I'll be missing school and all."

  A slow, disbelieving relief wound through Ian. "No," Ian told Andy. "I don't imagine it will be too bad."

  He only hoped he was right.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Wednesday was not the best day Maggie had ever had. Her favorite pair of jeans turned up with a hole in them. Then she burned her hand on the teakettle. And the paper boy never delivered the newspaper. Her car started fine, but she scraped the rear bumper against the road as she backed too fast out of her driveway.

  Calm down, Maggie told herself as she drove, super carefully, the rest of the way to the nursery. He wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth wrecking all her things over their breakup. Oh, sure, they'd had some good times. And sure, he was the best thing that had ever climbed into her bed. But so what? There were lines she was not prepared to cross: lines of possession.

  And so what if he'd had his daughter call her, too pissed-off to talk to her himself about Kathy's living arrangements while he was on this super-important business trip? That only made sense. It was only what Maggie would have wanted, to keep her relationship with Sophia's kids, while having nothing at all to do with Ian.

  Meanwhile, she'd t
old Kathy, sure, she could stay with her, but what about Andy? Maggie had been surprised to learn Andy was going with Ian to Kansas City. Surprised, and oddly displeased. She didn't like Ian doing something wise, something...praiseworthy.

  Kathy had gone on to figure out logistics, deciding she could simply take the bus over to Maggie's nursery directly after school. Yes, Maggie had agreed, that would be the most convenient, and it would have the additional joy of taking Ian out of the picture. She and he wouldn't even have to see each other. Great. Fantastic. Wonderful.

  Meanwhile, Maggie managed to get to her nursery and park without any further mishaps. But Wednesday was always her slowest day of the week, and this Wednesday proved to be no exception. She didn't receive a single customer all morning.

  But Maggie kept herself busy. She rolled the new bags of fertilizer into their storage bins. She raked the paths. She weeded and pruned. One thing she was not going to do was stew or mourn. She'd known from the beginning a relationship with Ian was a doomed enterprise. She'd merely had her own prophecy fulfilled.

  Furthermore, she was through worrying over whether she'd ever had an equal relationship with a man. That was—was plain nonsense. Of course she had.

  The mail dropped through the slot in the front door at noon. Maggie perked up at the sound. Sitting at her office desk, she halted the task of filing her nails. The mail should contain her check from Corporate Edges. Getting that money ought to cheer her up—not that she was down in the dumps or anything.

  She hurried from her chair and around the counter to pick up the envelopes and mailers splashed over the floor. Hastily, she paged through everything. What? No, that wasn't possible. It had been thirty days plus. The check simply had to be here. Corporate Edges couldn't be playing games with an amount this size.

  Maggie took a seat at her desk and, going slowly, went through the mail again. The result, however, was the same. No check from Corporate Edges.

  Carefully, because she felt like tossing it all across the floor, Maggie set the mail on top of her desk. It was the last straw. How dare they not send her a check? She'd given them twenty-five thousand dollars' worth of plants. They hadn't given her a red cent. She breathed in and out, trying to control her rage.

  Part of her anger, she realized, was left over and unresolved from the scene with Ian the night before. Even so—Corporate Edges were bandits. They were thieves, they were con artists. Why hadn't they goddamn paid her?

  But thoughts of Ian sneaked in even here. He'd warned Maggie. He'd told her not to give the plants on credit without even a deposit. He'd pointed out that Maggie was going to end up paying interest on her credit card debt.

  Maggie sat in her office chair and clamped her teeth together tightly. She didn't want to admit that Ian had been right, particularly today of all days. But facts were facts. Corporate Edges had not paid her any money, and she was paying interest on her credit card debt.

  Maggie clamped her teeth together even tighter. Okay, Ian had been right about Corporate Edges, but he hadn't been right about Maggie's past boyfriends. They had owned backbones. They had. She was not a— She did not—

  Maggie unclamped her teeth and covered her eyes with one hand. All the emotions she'd been trying to suppress since the night before welled up in her. She tried, desperately, to calm herself down.

  Okay, okay. Breathing deeply, she went through it all rationally. What was the problem here? Corporate Edges was late sending her their check. Again. But they would pay. They always paid.

  They were always late paying, too. And Maggie had known that; she'd known it the day she'd had an argument about it with Ian. She'd known he was right. Corporate Edges would take advantage of her, the way they always did. She'd also known this order was too big to let them do that to her.

  Maggie froze in her chair. But she couldn't stop the admission from popping into her brain. Yes, even at the time, she'd known Ian had been right, but—she hadn't been able to admit it. She'd felt like it would diminish her to have to admit that Ian, a man, could be right, and herself wrong.

  It took a moment for the entirety of the revelation to sink in. Maggie had been unable to let the man in her life be right about anything. Simply on principle. Her eyes opened wide.

  God, that was familiar. It was eerily like the behavior of somebody else she knew.

  It was just like her father.

  Her father could never admit her mother was right. On principle.

  Maggie drew her hand away from her eyes. She felt chilled all the way through. She didn't want to believe she'd done that, behaved like her father. But...

  Maggie drew in a long breath and leaned back in her seat. The chill grew, became like a vise, holding her immobile. She'd always been so careful not to take up with a man who was like her father.

  Instead, she'd gone out and become her father.

  For a minute longer she tried to deny it, but all the times and situations rushed back at her. She never let a man—and particularly not the man in her life—be right about anything. If a man wanted to be with her, he had to let her be right. Or else.

  Maggie sat there, shivering and trying hard to breathe. But Ian had been right. Yes, he'd been right about that, too. But he hadn't guessed the worst of it.

  She was just like her father. Just exactly like him.

  ~~~

  Andy had to admit he was having fun. Even though it was his dad who came to fetch him at school, it was still fun to get out early. Then it was fun to drive, just the two of them, to the airport. Fun to follow after his father, as if he knew what he was doing, while they caught the parking lot shuttle to the terminal, picked up their boarding passes, and got their luggage checked.

  His dad never turned around to lecture him, never did anything to make Andy feel like a little kid instead of another adult, one who knew how to hop a flight to another city, no problem. Even when they had to pass through the security checkpoint, Ian didn't instruct Andy, though Andy might not have minded a little instruction at that point. They practically had to strip down, taking off belts and jackets, emptying pockets, and even removing their shoes. Everything went into the plastic trays that fed through the x-ray machine and had to be picked up in a hurry on the other side.

  Andy sat next to his dad as they tied up their shoes again. He couldn't help that his excitement expanded. They were on their way, going to get on a plane and travel to another city, one to which Andy had never been.

  "That went faster than I expected." Ian set his foot down with a grunt. "We've got almost an hour until our flight."

  "Maybe we'd better get something to eat," Andy remarked. "I saw on our boarding passes they're not serving food on the plane."

  "That's right." Ian stood up. "Where the hell's my belt? Oh, there." He reached for the belt that sat on the next chair over. "Let's go see what our food choices are."

  Andy couldn't help staring at his father. Hell. He'd said 'hell,' like he didn't have to worry about Andy being a baby who couldn't hear words like that. "Uh, sure, Dad, just let me get my other shoe on." Andy shoved his foot quickly into his sneaker.

  The food choices weren't great. Dunkin Donuts and Taco Bell.

  "Your call," Ian said, standing beside Andy on the concourse as passengers and flight crews walked to either side of them.

  "Jeez." Andy regarded the two lone signs. "Your diet."

  Ian paused, as if he hadn't expected Andy to consider something as important as that. "Oh. Chicken taco, no cheese, isn't so bad on that front."

  "Then let's do Taco Bell." Obviously.

  They stood in line and ordered, then found a place to sit while they waited for their number to be called. As they sat across from each other at a little wire frame table, Andy realized he'd never had his dad all to himself like this, without Kathy yammering her way into things or his dad's cell phone to his ear.

  "Hey." Andy sat up.

  "What? Did you forget something?"

  "No, but I think you did. Where's your cell?"
>
  "My cell—? Oh, I put it in my briefcase."

  "Are you sure? 'Cause I haven't heard it ring even once."

  Ian glanced toward the briefcase he'd left leaning against his chair leg. "That's probably because I turned it off."

  Andy stared at him. "You turned it off?"

  "Yeah." Ian seemed nonplussed. "It'd be kind of hard to talk to you with Howard calling me up every other second with some new last-minute instruction."

  Andy's jaw dropped. "You're not taking calls from your boss?"

  "Nope." Ian tilted his head. "I'd rather talk to you."

  Andy kept staring at his dad. He'd turned his cell phone off, denied calls from his boss, so he could talk to him? For a minute, one brief instant, a shot of exhilaration went through Andy. His dad wanted to talk to him.

  Then reality crashed in on his joy. His dad wanted to talk to him. That is, he wanted to interrogate him, the way he'd interrogated him at the Mexican restaurant. Andy had ended up spilling his guts, and his dad had lied about everything.

  The joy and excitement Andy had been experiencing began to ebb. He leaned back in his wire frame chair with a sardonic smile creeping over his face. How could he have forgotten? His dad was not his friend. His father was self-centered and dishonest and just plain stupid. This whole business trip was an idiotic thing for him to be doing. Huh. Andy had absolutely no intention of spilling his guts again.

  "You want to talk to me?" Andy shrugged. "So talk."

  "I was kind of hoping you had something to say to me," Ian replied.

  Smiling, Andy hooked an elbow over the back of the chair. He wasn't falling for that one again. "Don't have a thing to say."

  Obviously, Ian couldn't contradict him. But he did give Andy this long, penetrating look. Andy thought it was kind of funny. That look wasn't about to break him down.

  "All right," Ian said at last. "Then I'll say something to you."

  This oughta be good. Still smiling, Andy waited.

  Ian's gaze shifted away. "Last night I asked your Aunt Maggie to marry me."

  Andy's smile vanished. His stomach took a swift, long dive. No, he thought. No. But a memory flashed at him, the way his father had looked when he'd dragged himself in the night before, the disheveled hair and mussed-up shirt. God, no.