Distracted, I keep a careful eye on everything around us. “Uh . . .” I’m considering fried chicken when the crowd in the lobby suddenly quiets.
“Mr. Casella,” Kenneth says. My stomach sinks, and I turn slowly to face the concierge as he stands next to my father. Kenneth glances at me. “Miss Casella, nice to see you enjoying the Ruby.”
“Whatever,” I say, annoyed that he’d pretend to be polite to me in front of my father. For his part, my father tenses like he’s expecting bad news. Does he really think I’m acting out? He turns to Kenneth, but instead of apologizing, he stoops his shoulders.
“I need more time,” he says quietly. Kenneth is unmoved, lifting his chin in a pompous way to look down his nose. “Please,” my father goes on, “just another few days.”
“What?” I demand. First of all, I just finished telling my father that I wanted out of this place, and now he’s begging the concierge to let us stay? Is he nuts? And what gives—did my dad run out of money? I hardly think this is Kenneth’s call.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Casella,” Kenneth replies, ignoring me. “But this is the final warning. You remember what we talked out, yes?”
My father touches his throat, a sudden flinch of pain. My anger is quickly replaced with fear, terror reverberating from my father to me. Whatever they’ve talked out—it’s not good. I step in and take my father’s arm.
“Believe me,” I tell Kenneth, trying to act brave. “We’re out of here in the morning. You can count on that.”
Kenneth flashes me a look of disdain and then sets his eyes on my father. I swallow hard, my dad’s arm shaking beneath my hand. “See to it,” Kenneth tells him. “Otherwise there will be repercussions.” He turns on his heel and walks back across the lobby.
My heart thuds against my ribs; the crowd starts talking again. My father pats my hand like the exchange never happened, and looks down at me, smiling gently.
“Now, about dinner,” he says.
“Seriously?” I ask him. “We’re not going to discuss the psycho who just threatened you? What is he talking about, Dad? Do you owe him money?”
My father shakes his head. “It’s nothing like that, kid. Promise. Kenneth . . . he’s uncomfortable with some of the choices you’ve made. He’d prefer if you left sooner than later.”
“Likewise. I think he’s an asshole.”
My father’s mouth twitches with a smile. “I won’t even correct your language on that one.” Surprised, I laugh. “I just wish we could stay longer,” my father continues. “This has been wonderful, having us all together.” He looks over at me, his eyes glistening in the lights of the chandelier. “But after tomorrow you’ll never have to deal with Kenneth again,” he says. “I swear it.”
He puts his hand to his chest like he’s making an oath, and his expression is no longer frightened. I wonder if I read the signals wrong in their conversation. Kenneth clearly has it out for me, but my father might have been speaking on my behalf. Standing up for me. It reminds me of how much he’s changed since we’ve arrived here.
Dad and I both sigh, turning to look over the gathered crowd. For the first time since my mother died, I feel like we’re on the same team. We’re about to discuss our dinner plans again when I see him. My heart leaps.
“Elias,” I call a little too loudly, startling several people around us. Elias looks up from where he’s standing across the lobby with two older men, white-haired types with tuxedos and substantial mustaches. Elias himself has changed into a gray suit and bow tie, his hair combed smooth. His face clean shaven. He tilts his head to say something to the men and then starts through the crowd in our direction.
“Is that Elias Lange?” my father asks, sounding impressed. When I nod, he slips his hands into his pockets and smiles broadly. “That’s wonderful,” he adds. “I met him at the party the other night. Nice guy.” Dad looks sideways at me. “Although your brother doesn’t much like him.”
“Daniel’s predictable that way,” I mumble. At least he used to be. No, I stop the negative thoughts. My brother will regain his sanity. Once he sees how Dad’s acting, how happy the three of us can be in Phoenix, he’ll come back to his senses.
My dad shifts, anticipating Elias as he gets closer. I watch with nervous tension, realizing that I never went back to meet Elias at the café. He’s probably wondering what happened to me. God, I hope this isn’t awkward. My shoulders fall—of course it will be. I’m standing here with my dad.