Tomorrow was Thursday. Gabe said, “I can’t make it home by two on a bus. You could meet me at SC.”

“We’ll meet at SC. I’ll call you when I get there.” Donatti hung up.

According to Gabe’s phone, the conversation had lasted one minute and twenty-eight seconds. Nothing remarkable had transpired, but one sentence rang in his brain.

Besides, I’d like to see you.

Not, I need to see you, but I’d like to see you.

It shouldn’t have made a difference, but it did. It made him feel good.

THE PHONE RANG exactly at two. “I’m at an open air café on campus,” Gabe told his father. “Is that okay?”

“It’s fine.”

Gabe gave his father directions. Five minutes later he saw Chris Donatti walking toward him—tall, tan, built, and handsome. The man turned heads wherever he went and today was no exception. Every time he passed a female, she’d look backward. Chris was wearing a white shirt, brown cords and a tweed jacket. He looked like every co-ed’s fantasy professor. There were so many things to despise about Chris, but on a gut level, Gabe was proud to be Chris’s son.

His father—for better or worse.

When Chris reached the table, he held out his hand. Gabe gave him the manila folder and Chris sat down and opened it up.

“Are you hungry?” Gabe asked.

“Get me a cup of coffee.”

“Do you mind if I get something to eat?” Wordlessly, Donatti pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. Gabe said, “I wasn’t asking for money.”

“Take it.”

“I’m really okay.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Someone offers you money, you take it. Now shut up and let me read.”

So much for sentimentalism. Gabe took the cash, waited in line and bought a burger, fries, a Diet Coke and a coffee. He sat back down and started to eat. A minute later, Chris was glaring at him. He wasn’t eating particularly loud, but his dad was in one of those moods where everything bothered him.

Gabe said, “Uh, maybe I’ll eat at another table.” He moved to the table next to his dad and was eating peacefully while reading Evelyn Waugh—one of Rina’s favorite writers. It was a beautiful day and he felt happier than he had in years. He knew he was calm because his zits finally cleared up. How good was it to be chomping on a burger and reading a great book. The only thing missing was maybe a little Mozart—strings pieces only, and please, definitely no piano. He had become so absorbed in his reading that he didn’t hear the old man clearing his throat until Chris was clearly annoyed. Gabe looked up and moved back to the first table. “Everything okay?”

“Get me another cup of coffee. Large.”

“Sure.”