“Half the state of Nevada can hear you. The other half has to be totally deaf,” Henry Cricket roared in return. Cosmo grinned to himself. What he just heard was music to his ears, the most emotion he’d heard from his father since his mother’s passing.

“I’m taking you out of here, so think about that as you soap up. I’m going to have this house fumigated and rent it out.”

“Like hell you are! This is my house, not yours. You don’t have any say where I am concerned.” To make his point, Henry Cricket pushed his weight against the shower door to no avail.

“You should have thought about that before you signed over your power of attorney to me. Remember you did that when you told me you were going to die? So, yes, I can do what I just said.”

“I hate smart-ass lawyers. Your mother and I must have lost our minds when we sent you to law school. Oh, right, you’re the head of the Nevada Gaming Control Board these days! Well, la-di-da and all that. How could I forget something so important?” Henry roared so loud that, as a result, Cosmo stuck his fingers in his ears. When he decided it was safe to remove them, his arm shot upward as he pumped it in the air. He continued to grin in pure joy. The old man was actually talking, communicating. They were arguing, which was even better. Progress. Real progress.

“Okay, I’m ready to come out. Move away from the door.”

“No, no, no! Soap up a couple more times. You smelled like three-day-old roadkill. I mean it, Dad. Stop dicking around and do what I tell you.”

Twenty minutes later, the old man had calmed down enough to say, “Okay, you win. I’m shriveled up to nothing. I smell like gardenias. You happy now?”

“Yep!” Cosmo reached for a towel that he knew had last been washed when his mother was still alive. It smelled musty. Out of respect for his father, he turned his back so the older man could dry off and wrap himself in the towel, giving Cosmo time to find a set of clean clothes. “We need to do some clothes shopping,” he muttered.

“I heard that! I don’t need any new clothes.”

“Yeah, Dad, you do. You haven’t washed anything since Mom died. When you walk out of here, you are going with the clothes on your back.”

“Where are you taking me, Cossy?” his father demanded.

His old nickname from when he was a little boy punched Cosmo in the chest. “To a great place. A place that needs you. You have great organizational skills, and you are going to be running the place. Mom would approve. And just for the record, Dad, Mom would be pissed to the teeth to know how you’ve spent these past two years. And you know it!”

“I needed to mourn. Your mother was the love of my life. I’m nothing without her. You saw that for yourself. I’m sorry if you feel like I let you down, Cossy,” the old man whined.