All We Ever Wanted(97)

I’m thinking about all of this now as my Uber turns onto Avondale and I see Dad standing on the front porch at the exact spot where that terrible word was once written. He waves, watching me get out of the car and climb the steps.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me pick you up at the airport.” He shakes his head, muttering something about my hardheadedness, then gives me a long, tight hug. “Thank you for coming,” he says. “I know how busy you are.”

“Of course,” I say. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Dad says, downplaying the design award he and Nina are receiving this evening. “But it’s going to mean a lot to Nina. And remember—your being here is a surprise.”

   “I know, Dad,” I say, smiling. “You’ve only told me a hundred times.”

“Well…I just want tonight to be perfect.”

“You’re so sweet to her,” I say.

“She deserves it. She’s the best,” Dad replies.

It is wild praise coming from him, and I find myself wondering, as I often have over the years, if there’s something romantic between them. They swear up and down that they’re just friends—best friends—and in some ways, I think that’s even sweeter.

“So…is he coming?” I say, referring to Finch, knowing that Dad invited him, too.

“No,” Dad says, shaking his head. “Work conflict. Although to be fair, he does live in London now.”

“London?” I say, annoyed that Finch managed to land himself in the only city in the world better than New York.

“Yeah. He took some job…something financial.”

“Well. Whatever,” I say, with a shrug. I’m disappointed for Nina but relieved for myself. “We’re going to have a wonderful time regardless.”



* * *



—

A FEW HOURS later, Dad and I are walking into the lobby of the Frist Center. He’s wearing his only nice suit and a light blue tie I feel sure Nina picked out for him.

“Okay. She’s up in the Turner Courtyard,” he says, flustered as he reads a text message. “Where the event is being held…Do you know how to get—”

“Yes, Dad,” I say. “I know.”

“I better go before she walks down here and sees you.”

   “Go. Go,” I say. “I can fend for myself.”

Dad kisses my cheek and thanks me, his unease seeming to shift into excitement. Maybe even pride. After all, it’s his award, too, and he’s come a long way since his solo carpentry and Uber days.

As he turns to go, I head to the bar to get a glass of champagne, thinking that it’s nice to be back in Nashville. I really should visit more often.

And that’s when I see him, rushing into the lobby. With glasses and short hair and a little extra weight, he looks so different. Older. Somehow changed. But as he gets closer, I can tell that he’s still unmistakably Finch, and remind myself that people seldom really change.

My instinct is to duck away and avoid him, but I make myself walk directly toward him, looking right into his eyes.

“Hello, Lyla,” he says, breathless, with flushed cheeks. He nearly hugs me but then stops, likely thinking better of it.

“So you made it after all?” I say.

“Yeah,” he says, giving me a half smile. “My boss might fire me….But I made it.”

I smile back, though I don’t fully mean it.

“Did you get my letter?” he asks.

I nod and say yes. “Thank you,” I add, though I’m not really thanking him for his letter, but for being here tonight in Tennessee, wearing a crumpled overcoat that smells like an airplane. For showing up for his mother.

He nods, looking sad but determined. “Well…we better go up….Your dad said eight o’clock, right?”

“Yes,” I say, glancing at my watch and seeing that it’s a couple minutes past. I finish my champagne, put the glass on a highboy table, then follow Finch up the steps into the ballroom.

   The lights are low, but as I scan the room, I see Bonnie and a few of my dad’s old contractor buddies. The others I don’t recognize.

There is a woman at the podium, talking about Dad and Nina and the work they’re doing for abused women’s shelters across the state. Plural. I thought there was only the one in Bristol.

“Wow,” I say to myself, though Finch must hear me, because out of the corner of my eye I can see him nodding.

“Yes,” he murmurs in agreement.

A second later, Dad and Nina walk onto the stage together as everyone applauds. She is wearing an Audrey Hepburn–style pale blue dress that matches Dad’s tie and, come to think of it, the lettering on their business cards. His hand is on her back as he walks behind her, guiding her. My father has always been a gentleman in his own way, but I’ve never seen him like this before. He looks so confident, sparkling. They both sparkle.

Dad takes the microphone first, thanking everyone. But then he steps back and Nina does the talking. She speaks about their journey together, how they both were looking for a way to follow their passion and also help others. There is a slide show of women and children, smiling, laughing, playing in tree houses and tranquil communal living spaces. She talks about how materialism can lead us astray, but that we all need beauty in our lives. And a sanctuary. A home and people who will always have our backs.