His father. His FATHER? Kirk sat in the dark after talking
to his mother feeling a lot how he imagined Luke Skywalker must have felt after
learning Darth Vader was his old man. Of course he knew that he had a father
but in all honesty he hadn’t given the matter much thought since hitting
puberty. Now his mother was telling him that he did indeed have a father and
that said father was alive and well AND a billionaire. Things were looking up.
Of course Kirk would go to Schuyler Square where hopefully he’d get to meet his father too but first there were a few
questions he wanted to ask his mother before that momentous meeting. Such as
why the hell she’d never bothered to mention Kirk’s father before this? And why she'd suddenly decided to go back to Schuyler Square now? It had
to be the money situation. Kirk knew his mother was very upset since being laid
off from her job. He also knew that she hadn’t been able to find anything else
for close to six months. Had she gone to Schuyler Square asking for money from
the man who had apparently sired him? That had to be it.
Kirk got up and headed for his bedroom. He had a
lot to do before leaving for Schuyler Square—pack, tell his boss he’d be gone
for at least a few weeks, arrange for someone to come in and take care of the
cat, do the laundry—Kirk frowned. He hated doing the laundry. Maybe he’d just
pack dirty clothes and let his mother wash them when he to there. Yeah, that would work and plus it would make
Mom feel needed. Kirk knew how important that was to her. He wanted to finish the chapter he was working on too. He was so close to a breakthrough that he could almost taste it. Kirk wondered if his father liked to write too. He wondered if they looked alike. Did he have any brothers or sisters? Wow, of all the things his mother might have sprung on him, the fact that he actually did have a dad was absolutely blowing his mind.
Ron Schuyler felt like crap.
It had all started the day Veronica Channing had walked back
into his life, announcing that they had a 27-year-old son and that he, Ron, had better come up with a job for her, pronto.
Ron buried his graying head in his hands and wished he was
at least 10,000 miles away. He also wished he’d never gotten married, never
laid eyes on Veronica and had gotten a vasectomy when he was seventeen.
This was awful. It was bad enough learning about Kirk but
then Lynnette had to go and get herself killed by her own daughter. Ron knew
what that meant: Tiffany would be living with them permanently, not just while
his sister was in Rome. He knew it was heartless and cruel to be thinking about
something as petty as a permanent house guest while Lynnette’s ashes were
waiting to be scattered but Ron couldn’t help himself. He was basically a
heartless and petty man. His niece was
all right but she’d eat them out of house and home and Ron was sure that his
life was going to be one hysterical moment followed by another until he was
ready to be put into an urn.
His thoughts went back to Veronica. He hadn’t seen her since
their visit in his office but he knew she was still around. Schuyler Square was
a small town and he had seen her a few times—crossing the street, at the coffee
shop downtown, walking toward the post office. The hell of it was that every
time Ron saw her, he felt an old zing
rush through his body and he knew he wouldn’t mind a few more afternoon romps
with Veronica.
What was he thinking? His libido always got him in trouble.
Hadn’t he learned that yet?
“Ron?” The sound of his wife’s sharp voice penetrated the fog
around his head. “Ron! We have to go to the hospital and pick up Tiffany!”
“We’d better stop at
the grocery store first,” Ron muttered.
Mavis appeared in the doorway dressed entirely in black to
honor her late sister-in-law. She reminded him of a crow. No wonder he was
forever chasing after other women. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “We’ve
got to get going. That poor child is waiting for us.”
“I’m sure she’s comforting herself in the hospital snack bar
with plenty of junk food,” Ron replied.
“Knock that off, Ron. We have a job to do and come hell
or high water we’re going to be there for Tiffany.”
Ron raised his eyebrows, surprised by Mavis’s apparent
maternal interest in her niece. She had never shown all that much maternal
interest in her own children. “What else do you propose we do, Mavis? We’re
taking the girl in. Isn’t that enough?”
Mavis shook her head. “No, it isn’t. I was talking with a
police officer I know and he told me about a wonderful youth group that he helps run.
I think we should get Tiffany signed up as soon as possible.”
“What police office could you possibly know?”
“Peter Van Husen. I don’t think you’ve ever met him. Now let's go, Ron. Tiffany's waiting.”
Ron looked at his wife closely. She actually seemed to be
blushing.
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