Shane’s office turned into a three-ring circus in the span of a few seconds. He tried to keep tabs on the melee in front of him, but it happened too fast. Keena apologizing for interrupting, Crickitt’s mother shushing her. Crickitt’s father’s hearty laughter as he grasped Crickitt’s arm and shook her.
“Gerald and I demanded to see our beautiful daughter,” Crickitt’s mother said to Shane. “It’s not Keena’s fault.”
Shane was still working to formulate a response when Gerald rushed forward. The short wall of a man grasped Shane’s hand and gave it a solid pump. “Shane August,” he said, “I read about you in Forbes.”
“Nice to meet you,” Shane said, pulling his hand back and testing it to see if Gerald had broken any of his fingers.
“My wife, Chandra.”
Crickitt’s mother stopped fussing over her daughter’s shirt collar to extend a hand. “How do you do?” She turned back to Crickitt. “We’re in town early, dear.”
“Yes, I see that,” Crickitt said, voice flat, giving Shane a glimpse at what she must have looked like as a surly fourteen-year-old.
The thought made him chuckle, earning smiles from her parents and a glare that could melt ice from Crickitt.
“Oh! You’re warm. Are you all right?” Chandra swept Crickitt’s forehead with the back of her hand.
His smile fell as he considered what her well-assuming parents interrupted. He’d been about to reestablish the perimeters of his and Crickitt’s relationship. He didn’t want to stop seeing her, looking at her: beautiful, smart, funny…but Friday night sent an alarm bell clanging in his head. She’d tipped into deep, dark family territory asking about his father’s clock, and for the first time, well…ever, he wanted to explain. Felt the words press against the walls of his chest and scream to get out.
He’d talked about that day exactly twice, many, many years ago, and would rather never speak of it again. Yet there he’d been, standing in the foyer of his own house, about to tell Crickitt how he’d sneaked out to toilet-paper a friend’s house, how his mother had to drive to pick him up, how the slick winter road caused the accident… He’d swallowed the words down like a spoonful of glass and kept them there until Crickitt left his house.
Despite whatever uncharacteristic “feelings” overcame him that night, Shane had no desire to time travel back to his childhood where guilt, pain, and anger met at an apex.
“Shane August.” Chandra Day turned her sunny smile on him. There was such bald appraisal in her voice, he nearly toed the carpet. “I was so excited to learn my daughter worked for you. I read your Forbes article.” She batted her eyes. “I loved it.” Placing a hand on her husband’s back she said, “You know, Gerald has a business.”
“I’m a brewer,” Gerald beamed. “Beer.”
“Dad.”
Shane started to give Crickitt a reassuring smile, but she was trying so hard to maintain control of her reaction for her parents’ sakes, he couldn’t muster more than a twitch of his lips.
He recognized that look from Friday. While he waged an internal battle, she’d pasted on a smile and kissed him good night. She hadn’t liked it, but she didn’t push. It occurred to him for the first time she’d done that for him.
“There are several local pubs in St. Louis,” Gerald was saying. “I’d like to peddle my ale at some of ’em, but I’m not sure where to start. Do you know anything about beer, Mr. August?”
“I—”
“Dad,” Crickitt said, forcefully this time. “Shane is a very busy man. You can’t expect him to drop—”
“I have several afternoon appointments, but my evening is free,” Shane interrupted. “I’ve been meaning to treat Crickitt to dinner, given how she practically single-handedly landed our most prestigious account.”
Crickitt frowned.
“Would you join us?” he asked.
Crickitt’s nostrils flared. Chandra reacted as if Shane called out the winning Powerball number.
“If that’s okay with you.” Shane met Crickitt’s gaze. Her eyes were so full of doubt, he wanted to drop to his knees and apologize right there.
“Of course it is!” Chandra insisted.
“Yes, we would all be delighted,” Gerald said. “Thank you, Mr. August.”
“Please, call me Shane.”
* * *
Call me Shane?
What was he up to? Moments ago, he was dumping her, now he was treating her and her family to dinner?