My feet were frozen to the floor as I looked into blue eyes the same shape and color as my own. “What’s wrong, honey?” My father’s arms lowered an inch as confusion and unhappiness marched across his face. “Aren’t you glad to see your dad?” I resisted the unwanted tug at my heart. An unsuspecting soul might have believed Stan’s hurt expression was real. Heck, I used to. That was until I learned my father was the king of deception and misdirection. Those skills were necessary for a good salesman, but they made for a lousy father. “What are you doing here, Stan?” I asked, trying to keep years of anger, disappointment, and frustration out of my voice. My grandfather’s widening smile told me I’d failed to. “What do you mean?” Stan had the nerve to look confused. “I mailed you a letter telling you I was coming to town. Didn’t you get it?” “Yes, I got it,” I admitted. “But what I meant was, what are you doing here, at the Senior Center? Are you peddling Polygrip now?”
