“You lived here with your parents?”

“My mom.” Nora walked up to the front door. She peered in a window and saw the emptiness inside—no furniture, no people, no life.

“Where was your dad?”

“The Iron Triangle in Queens. That’s where his chop shop was. Or he was in jail. I was a baby when my mom realized her mechanic husband actually ran a chop shop. She left him. They got divorced and Mom refused any child support. She didn’t want my father anywhere near me. She was so pissed at him that even after he died she got their marriage annulled.”

“I don’t blame her. God, I can’t imagine growing up like this.” He pointed at the decrepit house, the abandoned neighborhood. “I can’t imagine growing up with my father in prison. Dad...he and I are buddies. He was a sub commander, not that you’d ever know it. Very humble man.”

“Sub commander? Sounds like me. Different sort of subs, obviously.”

“Submarines,” Lance said, laughing. “He was on his last deployment right before the Gulf War broke out. Instead of coming home, he stayed in. I think that’s the one time I remember my mom breaking down while Dad was away. She was already planning his welcome home party.”

“God damn, that must have been hard.” Nora took his hand in hers.

“It was. I asked him about it, asked him if he was angry he had to stay in. He said he wasn’t. He knew Mom had things under control, that my sister and I were doing fine. He said...”

Lance paused and swallowed. A smile flitted across his face.

“My dad said that there comes a time when what you want to do is the opposite of what you need to do. And the boys do what they want to do, but the men...” Lance stood up a little straighter. “The men do what they need to do.”

“I see where you get all your annoying nobility from.”

“No, Dad’s one of a kind. He says I’m his hero. I say the same about him.”

“You’re lucky to have a great father, such great parents. Mom and I butted heads from day one. I was a Daddy’s girl. Not in the kinky way.”

“There’s a kinky way to be a Daddy’s girl?” Lance sounded horrified.

“Don’t judge.”

“Sorry.”

“When I was thirteen, fourteen, I’d run off to Queens any chance I could to see him. I’d take a bus, take the subway, surprise him at his shop. He’d treat me like his little princess, take me to lunch with his friends, then drive me home. He wasn’t a real parent, never disciplined me or anything. Mom did all the work so I hated her and loved him.”

“What happened? I mean, to him and you.”

Nora turned away from the window, the empty house, the memories.

“I got in trouble. Big, bad trouble. My father ran for the hills and left me hanging, even though it was his fault I was in all that trouble. Søren stepped in and took care of me as best as he could. But I wasn’t my father’s little girl anymore. And then Dad was dead, and I didn’t miss him.”