“Is she Catholic?”
“No, she says she was raised nothing. But she’s very respectful of religion.”
“Ian, does she even ski?”
Skiing was the other religion observed in the Asher family.
“No. She’s an artist.”
“Ah, yes, I remember her telling me that a long time ago. She’s good?”
“Incredible.”
“And you’re such a big art connoisseur you know that she’s that good?”
Ian counted to five in his mind. He loved his father. They got along great three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year. Today must be day three hundred and sixty-five.
“Okay, so you have a point. I know nothing about art. But I don’t have to know a lot about art to know she’s good. She has an installation up at the Morrison this month. That’s one of the galleries the Asher Foundation supports, right? If they think she’s good, she’s gotta be good, right?”
“The Morrison is a reputable gallery, yes. But they also have a habit of putting on shows by artists who are edgy or offensive just to get the press and more bodies in the door.”
“Flash sculpts flowers, Dad. Flowers. Climbing rosebushes made of aluminum. Eight-foot sunflowers made of copper. I hate to tell you this, but sunflowers are not edgy.”
He raised his hands in surrender.
“Forgive me. I just assumed a girl like her was—”
“A girl like what?” Ian asked as he returned to the kitchen and sat back on his stool again.
“A girl with her unique style, I mean.”
“Unique? Have you been to Portland recently? She looks like half the women in that town. Which is yet another reason to love Portland.” Ian still had his apartment in the Pearl District. He wished he was there right now. “It’s not 1965 anymore. Put the cane down, Dad. Stop yelling at kids to get off your lawn.”
“So sue me, I’m a little old-fashioned,” his father said as he poured a second cup of coffee for himself. “I just remember a time when women looked like women. I assumed my son had similar taste in ladies. Clearly I was wrong.”
“Flash looks like a woman. A woman with short hair and a few tattoos. It’s not like she’s walking around in a snowman costume or a bear suit. Not all women have to look like Miss America contestants. Most women don’t.”
“It’s fine. None of my business,” his father said. “You have your fun with her. She seems like the sort of girl you can have fun with. You’re still young enough to play around before settling down with someone nice.”
Ian should have known this was how his father would react. He hadn’t wanted to admit to himself or to Flash but he should have known...
“I hate to tell you this, but if and when I settle down, it’s going to be with her. At least I hope so.”
“You’re being selfish, Ian.”
“Selfish? For dating who I want to date? How the hell is that selfish?”
“Son, nobody knows better than I do how ugly it can get when two people from very different worlds fall in love. Now, I have set you up on dates with some of the classiest, loveliest, nicest and most accomplished women in this state and—”
“Why don’t you ask them out if you like them so much?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re only fifty-six, Dad. Are you ever going to get married again?”
“Some of us are a little busy running the state and managing your inheritance.”
“Busy? You take every single January off and spend it in the Mediterranean. Maybe take that month and go out on some dates. I know some of the classiest, loveliest, nicest and most accomplished women in this state, according to you. Although you should know that two out of three of those ‘classy’ ladies you’re so enamored of asked me back to their places on our very first date. So this idea you have in your head that there are two types of women—the girls you ‘have fun with’ to use your words and girls who are ‘nice’—probably needs to go because nice girls like having sex, too. Yes, I am having fun with Flash. I’m also falling in love with her. So if I were you, I’d get used to the idea of having her around, because she’s not going anywhere except to every Asher company party, every Asher fundraiser and, as long as things keep going as well as they have been, every single Asher family gathering. I might even talk her into coming to Mass with us on Christmas Eve.”