“It’s good to be the boss’s son.” His smile became more relaxed.
“I’m here if you need to talk, son.” As I’d pointed out time and again, my son was a grown man. But he was still my son.
“I know. You’re the best, Dad.” He hugged me. “Thank you. Now, come on. I’ve made reservations for dinner. It’s a nice little Chinese restaurant, and I think you’ll all like it.”
* * * *
The next time we saw Wills was about four months later when he had a layover in Boston and called to let me know he wanted to take us out to dinner.
Maybe it was just a matter of getting used to working in a different city, far from his family, but he seemed more relaxed, more my easy-going son once again.
While Jar and Marti vied to hold his ear, bringing him up to date on everything that had been going on with schoo
