to do this.”
“Yes, I did.”
“She’s your wife, Rick.”
“I know.”
I looked at him.
“And you’re my father. I should have said something years ago.”
Dad stared into his coffee.
“I really didn’t mind staying here.”
I knew what he was doing.
Trying to make it easier for me.
“You should have been there,” I said. “You’ve always deserved to be there.”
He didn’t answer.
After a while, he looked at his plate.
“Good pie.”
I smiled.
“Karen made it.”
Dad nodded.
“She’s a good baker.”
That was
