* * *
Dinner was delicious and the pot roast lived up to Maxine’s standards of excellence. But by the time the lemon tarts were served, Daniel was yawning. As soon as Maxine removed the dessert dishes, he asked to be excused.
“Stay and enjoy another cup of coffee,” he told his guests as he stood up. “But I should retire. I’ll be up early to attend Howard’s funeral. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”
“I need to say good night, too, Dad. Today was long and strenuous.”
As they left the dining room, Maris held back and detained Noah. Laying her hands on his lapels, she went up on tiptoe to kissed him tenderly on the lips. “I think I’ll go home ahead of you.”
He placed his hands at her waist and drew her closer. “I thought you and I had plans for later this evening.”
“We do. But I’m about to ask a favor. Would you please stay and help Dad get to bed? I know it’s not your place—”
“I don’t mind at all.”
“He’s prickly on the subject of his instability, and it’s already come up once tonight. But if you invent an excuse to walk upstairs with him, it won’t appear that you’re escorting him. I would appreciate it.”
“Consider it done, sweetheart. I’ll follow your lead.”
At the door, she pretended to remember that she wanted to retrieve an old address book from her third-floor bedroom. “I’ll have to look for it. I’m not sure where I left it.”
Noah offered to get it for her and suggested that she go ahead of him while he searched. She wasn’t sure Daniel believed their playacting, but he went along with it.
When they said their good nights, Daniel hugged her tightly. Then he set her away from him and peered closely into her eyes as though trying to decipher the troubling thoughts behind them. “I want to hear more about this new book and the complex man who’s writing it.”
The reminder of how she’d gone on and on about Parker brought color to her cheeks again. “I always value your input, Dad. I’ll have a copy of the manuscript sent over by courier tomorrow. We’ll get together later in the week to discuss it.”
He squeezed her hand with a confidentiality and caring that made her want to crawl up into his lap as she had when she was little, seeking comfort and assurance that everything was going to be fine, that all her concerns were needless, and that there was no basis for her undefined disquiet.
But, of course, she couldn’t. She’d outgrown his lap, and her confidences were a woman’s, not a child’s. They couldn’t be shared with her father.
Daniel moved aside and Noah stepped up to hug her. “Daniel’s looking a little down in the mouth tonight,” he whispered. “Once he’s tucked in, I think I’ll offer to have a bedtime brandy with him.”
“Do. But make it a short one. I’ll be waiting.”