Victoria stuffed the dress back in her weekend bag and joined her father in the kitchen. “Yes, ma’am,” she called over her shoulder.

Archie Reese leaned against the kitchen counter waiting on her with a whiskey in hand. “Drink?” he asked.

“Please.” She took it and emptied the glass in one gulp. The liquor stung her throat on its way to her belly.

“She doesn’t mean to get at you like that,” her father said in a soft voice. “She just worries, is all.”

Victoria shot him a sideways glance. “She’s been getting at me over this and that since I was a kid. That’s a long time to be worried and a long time for me to feel hounded.”

Archie held out the bottle of Dewers. “Another?”

“You know she’ll get angry if we’re tipsy before the reception,” Victoria said, holding her glass under her father’s liberal pour.

“You’re pretty good at hiding things, honey,” her father said with a wink. “I think you can manage this one secret too.”

She sipped the second one with a little more decorum as she leaned against the counter beside her father. “I don’t know about that.”

“The hiding?”

“I’m getting worse at it lately.”

“Might not be such a bad thing,” Archie said taking swig. “Is that the reason we haven’t seen you since January?”

Victoria set down her glass and faced her father. “Dad, I’m in a pickle,” she blurted out.

Archie cocked his head to the side and peered at his daughter. He was still a handsome man in his sixties: deep sienna brown skin, sporting a salt and pepper mustache. He kept his hair in the same high and tight style from his military days. He also put his glass down and placed his meaty fists on his hips. “Are you pregnant?” he whispered.

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Oh god, not you too...”

“Oh okay, sorry.”

She would be in her forties and they’d still be concerned for her virtue. “Mom is trying to set me up with some lawyer and I need you to run interference. Make sure we’re not alone for too long, glower at him, remind him that you’re a Master Gunnery sharpshooter. Do the things that dads are supposed to do.”

Archie’s brow knitted at the center. “Is there a reason why I’m doing this?”

“Because you owe me,” she hissed in a low voice. “You seem to forget that you’re not supposed to be smoking, but I saw you light up outside when I was here in January. If Mom found out about the pack of cigarettes in the planter out back...”

“Okay, okay, I hear you,” he said, trying to quiet her. “I’ll terrorize the boy.”

Light footsteps descended from the staircase as an airy voice rang out, “You two aren’t getting drunk before we leave, are you?”