Fall For Me Again Page 21

  There was yam soufflé, stuffing, turkey, carrots and turnips, mashed potatoes, Brussel sprouts, peas, gravy, and cranberry sauce. It was an absolute feast.

  We took up our seats at the table, and my father cleared his throat before laying his hands palm up on the table. Dallas must have remembered my family tradition because he coached Roy through saying grace. My father led, and we all sat, hand in hand, heads bowed and eyes closed, feeling nothing but gratitude and contentment in that moment together.

  “Amen,” my father said.

  “Amen,” the rest of us echoed in unison.

  Then the feast began.

  Thanksgiving dinner was something I looked forward to all year, and this year did not disappoint. The food was piping hot and absolutely delicious. I had only taken a few bites, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was going to eat too much and regret it.

  But it would be well worth it.

  My father took a sip of wine and looked up at Dallas, who was sitting on my right side. “So, you’re working at Treo, are you Dallas?”

  Dallas swallowed his bite of food and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Yes, I’m the head of Public Relations.”

  “Ah, yes. Your father’s specialty in his heyday at the company.”

  Dallas nodded. “Yes.”

  “How is your old man?” Richard asked.

  “He’s good,” Dallas said. I imagine he couldn’t think of anything else to say besides that. What could he say? “Oh, yeah, he’s great. He’s still earning over four hundred grand a year and has nothing better to spend it on than new cars and pointless landscaping.” No, there was no sense in that. So, he kept it simple, probably hoping my father wouldn’t ask him anything else about his own dad.

  I chimed in to try to help steer the conversation out of Dallas’s hands. “Dallas’s father was the one who gave the okay to hire me.”

  “Oh?” Richard asked, his brow furrowing in surprise. “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? I suppose all of us have changed and put our pasts behind us.”

  I didn’t say anything, and neither did Dallas.

  “What else is your father up to these days, Dallas?” my mother asked as she pushed some mashed potatoes around on her plate to gather more gravy.

  Dallas put his fork down and rested his napkin on his leg. “Not much. Same old things, I guess. He spends a lot of time working from home. You know him. He’s not much of a people person, so it was a good solution to move him out of the office and have me take over. There’s a lot less turnover at Treo now.”

  His punchline worked. Everyone at the table, save for me, laughed. Well, Roy didn’t laugh either, but that was because the joke went way over his head, and he was too focused on trying to stab one singular pea with one prong of his fork.

  My mother shook her head. “Your father is a brilliant man, but you’re right. He does not have the gentlest touch with people. And that’s all right. It takes all kinds of people to make this world go ‘round. Is he priming you to take over the business?”

  “I think so. To be honest, it isn’t a conversation we’ve really had. I don’t know what his intentions are with the company once he finally decides to retire.”

  “I’m sure it will go to you,” my mother said. “Mark will want to keep Treo in the family. And you have such great experience, and if I’m not wrong, you’ve done quite well by the company.”

  Dallas grimaced and turned slightly pink. It surprised me. He wasn’t a man who flustered easily. But maybe this was a bit too much, even for him. “Thank you,” he said.

  “The company will do better when you’re running it without his intervention anyway, Dallas,” I said as I pierced a cranberry with my fork and then stacked it on a piece of turkey.

  Dallas shrugged. “We’ll see. We both have our own strengths. I’m sure there will be things that come up that I’ll have no idea how to handle.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever they are, you’ll do a better job than him.”

  Dallas’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “But let’s be honest. Your dad doesn’t have a reputation for being the nicest guy. I, of all people, would know. He’s an assho—”

  “Elise,” my mother said sharply.

  “What?” I asked, blinking in surprise. I wasn’t saying anything everyone at the table didn’t already know. Mark Jansen wasn’t a nice man. Never had been. Probably never would be. Most of the town felt the same way, and when you ran into him out in public, you did your best to avoid making eye contact so you wouldn’t have to deal with him at all.

  His personal dislike toward me for no good reason made me even more inclined to hate his guts.

  My mother flicked her eyes toward Roy, who was sitting on Dallas’s other side. He was leaning forward, watching me.

  Dallas put his utensils down. “My father isn’t as out of control as some people make him out to be. Sure, he’s rough, and he doesn’t waste any time or energy trying to make people like him, but he’s a brilliant businessman.”

  “That’s not a fair measuring stick to determine whether or not someone is a good person,” I said.

  The whole table had gone quiet. Not even a fork bumped a plate. Nobody even chewed.

  Dallas was watching me. His eyes were darker than usual. His jaw was tight. “It may not seem like it from the outside, but my dad is the kind of man who will step up when the time comes for it.”

  I shrugged. “If you say so.”

  The legs of Dallas’s chair squeaked on the hardwood as he stood up. He caught his napkin before it fell from his leg and placed it beside his half-empty plate. When he spoke, he looked to my mother and father and Kate. He never looked at me. “I apologize, but Roy and I have to go.”

  “But Dad,” Roy said, his voice adopting the sharp tone of a whine.

  Dallas held his hand up. “Not now, Roy. Up you go. We’re going to Papa’s.”

  Roy looked over at me. I just sat there like a deer in the headlights, trying to figure out when everything had gone so wrong. All I had said were things everyone already knew, things Dallas knew better than all of us.

  Why the hell was he pissed at me for it?

  He never had liked how honest I could be. It ruffled his feathers back then. Maybe it ruffled them now, too.

  Nobody tried to change Dallas’s mind. Instead, they all told him it was nice to see him, and as he slipped down the hallway with his son, they all waved to Roy, who finally had the courage to wave back.

  I sat silently listening to them put their shoes and jackets on.

  Then I stood up and hurried out after them. Dallas stepped out into the cold, and I pulled my boots on. I couldn’t find my jacket, so I grabbed my Dad’s plaid one with fleece lining. It smelled like Irish Spring soap and cigars. Cheap cigars.

  “Dallas, wait,” I called after him as I hurried down the driveway. He was buckling Roy into his booster seat.

  When I approached, he closed the back door of the car, crossed his arms over his chest, and turned to me. “What?”

  “I—I didn’t mean those things. You know I wasn’t really serious, right? I know your dad is a good businessman. I know the company is the success it is because of him. All I meant was things will be even better when he—”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Elise. Keep your criticism of my father to yourself, all right?”

  His tone was angry. Impatient. I’d tested him. “Dallas. Give me a break. I wasn’t serious. Just like you weren’t serious about me in high school.”

  “What the hell do those two things have to do with one another?”

  “I’m just trying to make a point.”

  “Well, you’re not doing a good job,” he barked.

  He turned from me and made to walk around the car, but I caught the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him back to point an accusing finger at him. “You treated me the same way your father treats people. You treated me like I was replaceable. You were only there when you needed me. When thin
gs got real bad for me and I couldn’t afford to bring a fucking lunch to school, you bailed, Dallas! You didn’t like being the guy with the poor girl. You didn’t like how it made you look. Well, guess what? You leaving me like that made you look like the real ass you were.”

  Dallas pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head. “I’m not entertaining this right now. My son is in the car. And I thought we had put this behind us.”

  “So did I.”

  He rubbed his eyes and didn’t look at me when he let his hand fall from his face. “I have to go, Elise. I don’t know what I did wrong again. Whatever it was… fuck. I don’t know.”

  He waved his hand dismissively before finally walking around the hood of his car and getting in. I watched him reverse out of the driveway and pull away, and I was left staring after him with one thought thundering around in my brain: had I fallen for the same Dallas who chewed me up and spit me out all those years ago? Was I going to end up just as damaged as I did back then?

  How had I not seen all the warning signs sooner?

  Chapter 35

  Dallas

  Roy’s expression was uncertain when I opened the back door of the car to get him out of his booster seat.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you and Elise fighting?”

  I sighed as I unbuckled his seat. “No, kiddo. It can just be complicated sometimes when two people who used to know each other don’t see each other for a long time. There are a lot of conversations you have to have so you can learn about who they have become over that time. Does that make sense?”

  Roy climbed out of the car. His boots hit the smooth pavement of my father’s driveway. “I think so.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me and Elise. We just need to talk some things through, and everything will be all right.”

  “Why doesn’t she like Papa?”

  That was the question I was hoping he wouldn’t ask—and the reason why I was so upset with how Elise had handled things back at her parents’ place. I didn’t give a damn that she didn’t like my father. There was, and always had been, bad blood between them. What I didn’t like was her soiling my father’s name in front of my son.

  Roy was the only person on this planet who saw my father as a role model. As someone kind, and gentle, and selfless. I wanted to keep it that way.

  “It’s not that she doesn’t like him,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “But your Papa used to know Elise when she was a teenager. And they didn’t get along. Which is okay because not everyone needs to get along. They are just very different people.”

  “Oh.”

  I patted his head. “I promise you don’t need to worry about it, Roy.”

  “Okay.”

  When we reached the front door, I crouched down in front of him and held him by the shoulders. “Do you believe me when I tell you it will all work out?”

  His dark eyes flicked back and forth between mine as he thought about his answer. I’d taught him to only answer when he was sure. He didn’t need to feel pressure. After about ten seconds, he nodded. “I believe you.”

  The front door opened. My father was standing there, staring down at both of us with a cool expression on his face. “What are you doing down there, Dallas?”

  “We were talking,” I said, straightening up.

  “You’re late. Not that I’m surprised.”

  I sighed. “Sorry, Dad. It’s been a bit of a hectic evening. We were invited to a friend’s house for an early dinner, but things didn’t go as planned. I should have called and let you know.”

  “Indeed. You should have.”

  “But we’re here now. Can we come in?”

  My father stepped aside and invited us in. Roy and I took off our shoes and jackets, and then followed my dad down the hall to the formal dining room, where a massive Thanksgiving meal spread was laid out on top of a red table runner. In the middle of the table was a bowl of acorns and dried leaves. On either side of the bowl, gold candles flickered and burned.

  “The table looks good, Dad,” I said.

  “Vanessa has a way with this sort of thing,” my father said as he took his seat at the head of the table. I sat down on his right side, and Roy took the chair beside me.

  Then, seconds later, the woman I assumed to be Vanessa walked in. She was wearing a long-sleeved black dress. It was knee length, and she had black nylons underneath. The heels of her black pumps struck the floor with each step as she went to her chair, pulled it out, and sat down to clasp her hands in her lap.

  She was sitting directly across from me. She lifted her blue gaze and gave me a sweet smile. Creases appeared at the corners of her mouth, and wrinkles lined her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and full, her lips heart shaped, and her hair a rich brown. “Hello. You must be Dallas. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Really?” I asked, more than a little surprised. “I had no idea my father spoke about me when I wasn’t around.”

  Vanessa looked to my father and smiled. “He most certainly does. And you must be Roy. You know, you’re famous around here.”

  Roy sat up a bit straighter. “Famous?”

  Vanessa nodded. Her brown curls bounced just above her shoulders. “Yes. Your grandfather talks about you like you’re royalty. Why, this whole dinner is for you.”

  Roy looked at the table and all the food. “Really?”

  My father smiled. He looked almost uncomfortable—like he was out of his element. “Yes. Only the best for my grandson. Now, let’s dig in.”

  There was no saying grace at my father’s house. There was also little conversation as we all dug into our meal. Roy didn’t eat much of his food. I supposed that was poor planning on my part. He’d filled up at Patricia and Richard’s place.

  I, on the other hand, still had room to tear through a full turkey dinner.

  When we were done, I slumped back and patted my gut. “That was delicious, Vanessa. Thank you.”

  “It was my pleasure,” she said, gliding to her feet like a dancer and making a lap around the table to collect all the dishes. She carried them off into the kitchen.

  I looked at Roy. “Do you mind helping Vanessa while I talk to Papa about work stuff?”

  Roy got off his chair and padded into the kitchen.

  My father frowned after him. “To clean up after us is Vanessa’s job. You don’t have to make Roy work. He can relax. Play video games. Whatever he likes.”

  “I know, Dad. But I like to teach him to help out where he can. And I wanted to talk to you.”

  “About?”

  “Vanessa,” I said simply, nodding my head in the direction of the kitchen.

  “What about her?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Dad.”

  My father picked up his wine and sipped it nonchalantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The two of you are seeing each other, aren’t you?”

  My father narrowed his dark brown eyes at me. “Is it that transparent?”

  I snorted and laughed. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have caught on if the table hadn’t been set and she hadn’t been rubbing your shin with the toe of her heel all through dinner.”

  “How did you—”

  “Doesn’t matter. She seems nice, Dad.”

  “She is.”

  “Then I’m happy for you.”

  My father almost smiled. Almost. “She takes care of me. And she tells me when I’m out of line. I think I have needed someone in my life like her since, well… since your mother died, Dallas.”

  I lifted my wine glass. “To Mom.”

  “To her,” he said.

  We drank.

  “So, this writer of yours,” he said, studying me coolly. “Her name is Elise.”

  I fought with myself to keep my composure. “It is.”

  “I ran into Winzly yesterday, and she talked about her. She assured me I would be very happy with the content she produces and her work ethic. She also
assured me Elise was highly marketable and flexible.”

  “All true.”

  “Am I correct to assume this is Elise Billingsly we have just hired, Dallas?”

  I stared down at the blood-red wine in my glass and sighed. “Yes, it’s her.”

  My father sat silently. The quiet stretched on between us, dragging out as I tried to think of something to say. When I came up empty, my father steered the conversation.

  “I trust yours and Winzly’s opinion, Dallas. Elise seems like a valuable addition to the company. I will not let my petty attitude toward her impact the business. I wish you would have known that when you first wanted to hire her so that I wasn’t surprised this far into the deal.”

  “I didn’t know how you would react. I thought you might cancel the deal.”

  “All because I didn’t like her when the two of you were young?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “You’re not the easiest man to read, Dad.”

  My father stroked his chin. “I had good enough reason not to like her.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I said. When he didn’t snap back at me, I continued. “You didn’t like her because of who her dad was. You didn’t want me hitching my wagon to someone who was broke. Someone who had been shamed in the public eye. Someone who had bigger balls than either of us could even dream of.”

  My father swirled his wine. “You are not wrong.”

  “I know I’m not.”

  “Then I suspect you already know I’m going to give you some advice, whether you want to hear it or not?”

  I smiled. This was the first open and honest conversation my father and I had had in years. The last time we spoke this candidly was when my wife had died, and I needed him. I needed him desperately. And he’d been there. Through everything.

  Bringing Roy home the first time. Helping me buy formula—something Beth and I hadn’t considered because she wanted to breastfeed. Teaching me how to change a diaper. How to burp him. How to sleep when Roy slept. How to swaddle him. How to put him down at night.

  He taught me how to be a dad.