My father stepped out of the van, pulling his sport coat around him as he scanned the back of the restaurant. His eyes lit on me. "Is your mother here?"
I nodded and approached the van warily. "What are you doing here dad?"
"I decided to pick you up personally. I would have driven myself, but I don't have a vehicle with the-" he waived a hand at the hydraulic lift, which the driver was currently lowering. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Your mother always loved this restaurant." His tone was bitter.
I didn't want to waste time talking in the street. We only had a few minutes before Carson figured out that I wasn't coming out the front door. I wheeled onto the lift, and the driver pushed the button. My father leaned against the van with one hand and watched the process wi
