"Order anything you want," Tom Hartman told Tiffany. "The lobster might be good."
"I detest lobster," Tiffany informed him. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat at Vicky's Secret, Schuyler Square's fanciest restaurant. Although the man sitting across from her, the man who claimed to be her father, seemed decent enough, it was downright awkward to be meeting him for the first time at the ripe old age of seventeen.
"Well, maybe steak then. Do you like steak?" Tom looked at Tiffany hopefully.
She shrugged. "It's all right. I think I'd rather have lasagna." She knew from past dining experiences that the lasagna at Vicky's Secret was beyond delicious. About four inches high and filled with enough cheese to clog the arteries of the entire town, one portion would blow her diet completely out of the water but Tiffany felt like she deserved a treat. She'd been so vigilant about watching calories, not giving into emotional eating and generally eating like a starving ant. Well, forget about that! If ever there had been a moment in her life when she felt an overwhelming need to give in to emotional eating, this had to be it. Meeting her dad for the first time was up there with running into her mom's car and accidentally killing her.
Tom looked relieved. "I'll have that too," he said.
Picking up her glass of Diet Coke, Tiffany studied Tom over the rim as she took a long sip. He was all right looking, she supposed, with brown hair and brown eyes. Pretty average for a man his age. Tiffany's mom had blue eyes and Tiffany had grey eyes. Weren't brown eyes supposed to be dominant? Or was it blue? Tiffany couldn't remember. She never paid too much attention during biology class. Or math. Or English.
"This must all feel pretty strange to you," Tom remarked after giving the waitress their order.
"Just a little," Tiffany agreed.
"It's going to take us a while to get to know each other but that's OK. It's not like we're in any kind of a rush." Tom seemed so uncomfortable that Tiffany felt a little sorry for him.
"How come my mom told me that you were in prison?" Tiffany asked.
"Is that what she told you?" Tom's eyes widened and he took a gulp of his scotch and soda.
Tiffany nodded. "She said you were in Joliet at the prison and that's why you never came to visit and never wrote."
Tom sighed deeply. "I don't know why Lynnette told you that, Tiffany. I also don't know why she never told me about you. Our divorce was pretty bitter and I'm guessing that she didn't want me to be part of her life after we split up. It really wasn't fair to either of us but there isn't much we can do about it now."
"I guess not," Tiffany agreed.
"But it isn't too late for the two of us to be family," Tom told her. "Is there anything you want to know about my side of the family? Any questions?"
"Just one," Tiffany said slowly.
"What's that?"
"Are you sure you're really my father?"
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