Her cheeks were on fire; she was certain of it.
“I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just meet me after class. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”
She nodded. He undoubtably thought she was a moron. Mrs. Robinson after a head trauma. “Sure. Coffee would be great.”
Jack had received one of the coveted tickets for the opening night premiere of Disney’s newest blockbuster movie. He’d dressed carefully, chosen a black Armani mock turtleneck sweater and charcoal gray wool slacks. According to Sally, dark colors set off his newly blond hair and tanned skin to perfection, made his eyes look “Paul Newman blue.”
He was just about to grab his coat when the phone rang. It was probably the car service, letting him know that the car had arrived. He answered quickly. “Hello?”
“Dad?”
Jamie. He’d been missing her calls all week. “Hey, baby, how’re you doing?”
“You didn’t return my last call.”
“I know. I’m sorry, too. I’ve been so busy lately. How about you, how’re things going? I meant to call after last Saturday’s swim meet, but you know me. I can’t remember why I left the house half the time.”
“Yeah, Dad. I know.”
He glanced at the clock. It was 6:37. The car service would be here any second. Damn. “Look, honey, I’ve got—” His second line beeped. “Just a minute, I have to put you on hold.” He depressed the button and answered. “Hello?”
“Mr. Shore? Your car is here.”
“Thanks, Billy. I’ll be right down,” he said, going back to Jamie. “My car is here, honey. I’ve got to run.”
“But I need to talk to you.”
He looked around for his coat. Where had he left it? “What is it?” he asked, checking under the bed. It wasn’t there. He kept looking. For a small apartment, he seemed to lose an awful lot of stuff in it.
“I’m quitting the swim team.”
Ah, there it was. He grabbed the black lambskin blazer off the kitchen table. Then it hit him. He stopped. “You’re what?”
She sighed again; her favorite form of communication lately. “I’m quitting the swim team.”
He glanced at the clock again: 6:43. The movie would start in seventeen minutes. If he left right now, he’d be on time. Any later … “You’re just having a rough time, honey. You’ve had them before, but you know how much you love the sport. Back when I was playing for the—”
“Not another football anecdote, please. And I don’t like swimming. I never did.”
It was 6:46.
He sat down on the end of the bed. “You’re exaggerating, as usual. Believe me, it’s hard to be the best. I know. And sometimes the—”
“—training rips your guts out. I know, Dad. I’ve heard it all before. But you’re not listening. I’M QUITTING! At the end of this season, I’m done. Over, finished, wet no more. If I never see another nose plug, it’ll be too soon. I would have discussed it with you last week, but you never called me back. I’m going to tell coach tomorrow.”
“Don’t do that.” He didn’t know what to say and he didn’t have time to think about it now. “Look, honey, I have to run. Honest. I’ve got important business tonight. People are counting on me. I’ll call you back tomorrow, and we’ll talk about this. I promise.”
“You do that.” She paused. “And, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Strangers aren’t the only people who count on you. How come they’re the only ones that matter?” Before he could respond, she hung up.
What in the hell did she mean by that?
Then he remembered what Elizabeth had said to him on the phone. Something like, I can’t keep you and your daughters on track anymore. Your relationship with Jamie is up to you.
They both acted like he’d been distant, unaware of what was going on in his own family. But that was ridiculous. He’d known what was important—to give his girls all the opportunities he’d never had. He’d worked sixty to seventy hours a week to make a good living, and then he’d coached every sports team Jamie had joined.
He slammed the phone onto its cradle and left the apartment. By the time he reached the lobby, he was pissed off. He slid into the town car’s backseat and shut the door.
Strangers aren’t the only people who count on you.
He flipped open his cell phone and punched in his daughters’ number.
Stephanie answered. “Hello?”
“Hi, honey, is Jamie there?” He realized a second too late that he’d been abrupt. Stephanie wore her fragile emotions on her sleeve; her feelings needed Woolite care. Unfortunately, he always seemed to remember that a split second too late. “I’m sorry, babe. Your sister just called. She threw me a real curve ball. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“I understand. No one can make you crazier than Jamie.”
“Is the princess at home?”
“She just left with her boyfriend.”
“Keith?”