"So what is it, Dana?" Jack asked, as he cut through the perfectly roasted brisket, smoky and soft because of the slow searing over the barbeque smolders.
"I had a fight with Grandpa," I said.
His hand reached for mine, holding it.
"This isn't the first time you have a fight," he said gently. "You two are very strong-willed people, after all."
I nodded.
"This time," I said, taking my hand out of his, and putting mine on top, "it was about you. About your past. He doesn't trust you."
"It was bound to happen," Jack said. "Your Grandpa looked me up, so he knows everything about me. He isn't the most trusting person."
"That's why I want to convince him to accept you," I said, reaching into my pocket, the small box in my hand.
Jack noticed my hand, and his eyes narrowed.
"You already t
