it."
Constance Ponte poured two tall glasses of lemonade and joined Sandy at the double glass doors. "You realize there's a good chance they'll blow up the entire neighborhood?"
"Of course."
"Lemonade?"
"Oh, thanks."
"Fresh squeezed."
"Really?"
Connie shrugged. "That's what the carton said."
Sandy laughed and began to relax. Unlike many women, she genuinely enjoyed her mother-in-law's company. Connie was a squat woman just a shade over five feet tall, with an ample figure, dark skin, raven-black hair which she always wore up; big brown eyes, and a round, cherubic face. She'd worked for years as an operator for an answering service in New Bedford, and had a quick, often acidic sense of humor Sandy admired.
"Would it be an understatement to suggest that you're a tad tense this afternoon?"
Sandy sipped her lemonade. "It shows, huh?"
"Like a beer gut."
"I'm worried."
"About Frank?"
"About Frank, me, this new business - all of it."
Connie smiled knowingly. "Frank has always been stubborn, honey, and he's always been restless. Even as a little boy he was restless."
"Do restless boys always grow into restless men?"
"Mine did."
Sandy found Connie's eyes. "He's throwing away so much."
"He's managed to hang onto what's really important," she said, slipping an arm around her daughter-in-law's waist. "Even in the glow of this wonderful moment, it suddenly occurs to me that I have toes thicker than your waist. I hate you."
Sandy burst out laughing. "Oh, stop," she said, turning her attention back to the patio. "Maybe we shouldn't watch this."
"You're right. Lets start on the dip while nobody's looking."
***
A steady breeze helped to cool the otherwise humid air as Frank watched his father spray lighter fluid across a bed of charcoal. "That's more than enough, Dad."
Joseph nodded curtly but said nothing. Frank constantly wore his heart on his sleeve - a trait he'd inherited from his mother - but his father possessed an uncanny ability to conceal much of his emotion behind a face often void of discernable expression. It was only one of the many differences that made it difficult for the two men to relate to each other, and frequently resulted in their conversations being nothing more than inconsequential chatter. But in this instance Frank had forced the issue, cornering his father by explaining about the new business and the fact that he'd left his job.
"Do you want me to light it?"
"I've got it, thanks." Joseph held a long match against the coals until they ignited, then increased the heat and closed the lid on the grill. He was several inches taller than his son, had dull gray hair he kept extremely short and neatly parted to the side, and a thin, almost frail build. His face was angular, with dark eyes, a long, narrow nose, and a thin-lipped mouth. Dressed in khaki slacks, a pair of brown leather sandals and a lightweight pullover shirt, he quietly sipped a wine cooler and absorbed what his son had just told him. "I wish you could have asked my advice prior to putting your plan into action, son. Isn't quitting your job somewhat premature?"
Frank lit a cigarette. "We've got some cash ahead of us, we'll be all right."
"How does Sandy feel about this?"
"Not great. I'm sure she thinks I've gone nuts."
"She may not be alone on that count."
"I'm just taking a shot, Dad. If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. It won't be the end of the world, for God's sake. There'll always be plenty of stores to work in."
Joseph folded his arms across his narrow chest. "Perhaps," he said softly. "But you put so much time and effort into that company, and that position specifically."
"You said yourself that I was wasting my talent working at a place
Constance Ponte poured two tall glasses of lemonade and joined Sandy at the double glass doors. "You realize there's a good chance they'll blow up the entire neighborhood?"
"Of course."
"Lemonade?"
"Oh, thanks."
"Fresh squeezed."
"Really?"
Connie shrugged. "That's what the carton said."
Sandy laughed and began to relax. Unlike many women, she genuinely enjoyed her mother-in-law's company. Connie was a squat woman just a shade over five feet tall, with an ample figure, dark skin, raven-black hair which she always wore up; big brown eyes, and a round, cherubic face. She'd worked for years as an operator for an answering service in New Bedford, and had a quick, often acidic sense of humor Sandy admired.
"Would it be an understatement to suggest that you're a tad tense this afternoon?"
Sandy sipped her lemonade. "It shows, huh?"
"Like a beer gut."
"I'm worried."
"About Frank?"
"About Frank, me, this new business - all of it."
Connie smiled knowingly. "Frank has always been stubborn, honey, and he's always been restless. Even as a little boy he was restless."
"Do restless boys always grow into restless men?"
"Mine did."
Sandy found Connie's eyes. "He's throwing away so much."
"He's managed to hang onto what's really important," she said, slipping an arm around her daughter-in-law's waist. "Even in the glow of this wonderful moment, it suddenly occurs to me that I have toes thicker than your waist. I hate you."
Sandy burst out laughing. "Oh, stop," she said, turning her attention back to the patio. "Maybe we shouldn't watch this."
"You're right. Lets start on the dip while nobody's looking."
***
A steady breeze helped to cool the otherwise humid air as Frank watched his father spray lighter fluid across a bed of charcoal. "That's more than enough, Dad."
Joseph nodded curtly but said nothing. Frank constantly wore his heart on his sleeve - a trait he'd inherited from his mother - but his father possessed an uncanny ability to conceal much of his emotion behind a face often void of discernable expression. It was only one of the many differences that made it difficult for the two men to relate to each other, and frequently resulted in their conversations being nothing more than inconsequential chatter. But in this instance Frank had forced the issue, cornering his father by explaining about the new business and the fact that he'd left his job.
"Do you want me to light it?"
"I've got it, thanks." Joseph held a long match against the coals until they ignited, then increased the heat and closed the lid on the grill. He was several inches taller than his son, had dull gray hair he kept extremely short and neatly parted to the side, and a thin, almost frail build. His face was angular, with dark eyes, a long, narrow nose, and a thin-lipped mouth. Dressed in khaki slacks, a pair of brown leather sandals and a lightweight pullover shirt, he quietly sipped a wine cooler and absorbed what his son had just told him. "I wish you could have asked my advice prior to putting your plan into action, son. Isn't quitting your job somewhat premature?"
Frank lit a cigarette. "We've got some cash ahead of us, we'll be all right."
"How does Sandy feel about this?"
"Not great. I'm sure she thinks I've gone nuts."
"She may not be alone on that count."
"I'm just taking a shot, Dad. If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. It won't be the end of the world, for God's sake. There'll always be plenty of stores to work in."
Joseph folded his arms across his narrow chest. "Perhaps," he said softly. "But you put so much time and effort into that company, and that position specifically."
"You said yourself that I was wasting my talent working at a place
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