He dropped several but keptthree.
“Would you like some tea, Father?” Dianaasked.
“I would not say no,” he said, slipping into a chair at thetable.
George Browning looked rumpled even in his bathrobe. He had a bald pate, but his ring of remaining grey hair shot out in all directions like he was caught in a crosswind. He constantly rubbed his pate with his hand as though he was attempting to polish it. He had droopy eyes from his years of reading in the poor light of musty libraries. And he kept a pair of eyeglasses that had either slipped to the end of his nose or were pushed up to his forehead where he could never findthem.
Diana poured her father his cup oftea.
“I have not seen Adam lately,” Father said. “Has he not been comingaround?”
“I believe he has been studying for some important exam or other. And I know he is still working hard on his dissertation,” Dianaanswered.
“He’s a good lad, your Adam. He’s a very promising scholar,” Fathersaid.
“But he wants to go into his father’s publishing house. I do not believe he wants a universityposition.”
“Huh. That would be ashame.”
“Not forhim.”
“So I suppose you like him because he will promise to publish your scribbles?” He dipped a ginger biscuit into histea.
“Not at all. I am already published, as you well know, Father,” Dianasaid.
“Yes, that silly business. Romance and fluff and frills. Is that notso?”
“My many readers might disagree with you, Father,” Diana saidsternly.
“What do they know? Layabouts or silly teenaged girls, Iimagine.”
Diana stood up from the table and whisked her and his teacup away and took them to the sink and began washing them. She was angry at his narrowmindedness but refused to engage with him any further at the moment. She wanted to get back towork.
Mother, who preferred to stay out of these arguments between father and daughter stood, grabbed another biscuit, and stated, “It’s been a lot longer than five minutes and I must get back to the gallery. Ta ta, you two.” Then sheleft.
* * *
Diana sawAdam Hardy coming down the street toward their house. He was carrying a pink pastry box fromDelaware’s Bakery—a favorite of her family’s. Adam usually brought something from the bakery when he was either feeling guilty about something or wanted to ask afavor.
Diana went to the front door of their house to greet him as he came through the front garden, just beginning to bloom with the first springflowers.
“Adam, what did you bring us this time?” Diana asked as she accepted the bakery box fromAdam.
“Something new,” he said with a big smile. “They have just started making the most delicious, individual custard tarts—just perfect for tea orbreakfast.”
Adam was a handsome young man with dark red hair that he combed to the side. His green eyes were most appealing, and his freckled cheeks dimpled when he smiled, as he didoften.
He wore large owlish metal rimmed glasses, which made him look like he was always just about to ask you a question. However, he tended to be a bit clumsy and would trip on even the most modest doorsill.
“Come in. It’s been over a week since you stopped by,” Diana said as she ushered him into the parlor after taking the bakery box to thekitchen.
“Just a few more months until graduation, so I have been piling on the work to get it all done intime.”
“Please, take a chair by the fire. It’s still a bit nippyout.”
“I’m not interrupting your writing, am I?” he asked as hesat.
“Not at all. I am usually done for the day by lunchtime. I find I can only do so much creative writing without fading after four or five hours. Would you like sometea?”
