He raised his tumbler. “What you should’ve been doing from the start,” he said.
“Maybe,” I conceded. “I just had to figure that out on my own.”
Dad continued eating. He didn’t smile at that, but his frown eased completely. “We’re not paying for the wedding,” he said, looking between my sister and me. “Either one.”
Money hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’d thought getting him to acknowledge our presence long enough to hear there was a wedding would be the one and only topic on tonight’s agenda.
“I’ll be fine,” Tiffany said. “I learned my lesson the first time thinking money wasn’t as important as love. Not having it can cause major problems.” She popped a potato in her mouth. “That’s why I made finding a wealthy man a priority! I never realized I could have both.”
I studied my sister’s body language—her contented sighs, tiny smiles, the pink tinge of her cheeks—to decide whether she was bluffing about her relationship. “I could’ve told you years ago you needed someone with money,” I said.
“As could I,” Manning added. “And I did. Several times.”
Tiffany shrugged off our comments. Manning, on the other hand, forked a broccoli stem so hard, it tumbled over the side of the plate. His heavy brows made me wonder if Tiffany had hurt his feelings by implying he hadn’t financially supported her the way she’d needed. Though her comment had been rude and thoughtless, I hadn’t thought she still had the power to get under his skin.
Turning back to the table, I said, “We’re fine to pay for our wedding. Money isn’t an issue for us. The ceremony will be pretty small and intimate—” I glanced at Manning when he removed his arm from the back of my chair. “But even if it wasn’t, we’d be fine. Manning’s furniture sells very well.”
“Even in this economy?” Dad asked.
Manning cleared his throat. “I do fine.”
“That’s what I was saying.” I tried to catch his gaze, but he kept it forward. “You have more business than you know what to do with.”
“Then you’ve got a solid empire there. Men my age are losing their jobs—and savings—with this recession.” Dad scratched his jaw. “I’ve been telling you for years you need help.”
“I have help. Some local kids.”
After our talk weeks ago, Manning had relented and taken on the teenaged son of a contractor he knew to help keep the shop organized. Then, he’d hired a twenty-year-old college student to do his books. “I think Dad means someone to help with the actual furniture.”
“I have an ear to the ground, but I’m sure it’ll be a while before I find anyone.”
“Maybe I can help,” Dad said. “E-mail me a job description and the hourly wage.”
Manning ran a finger under his collar. “I’m not sure it’s the right time. Who knows when the economy will recover?”
“I think we’ve survived the worst of it,” I said.
“My furniture is a luxury, not a necessity. And with a business directly related to homes, in this market, things could still decline.”
I could hear the irritation in Manning’s voice, though I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Even if business did suffer, Manning had always been good with money. I had complete faith we’d land on our feet. Didn’t he?
“Maybe it’s time to consider reducing the quality of the pieces,” Dad suggested. “With some cheap labor, you could create a more affordable line.”
Manning wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it on the table before scooting out his chair. “Excuse me.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, twisting my head to try to read his body language.
“To get something from the truck,” he said on his way out of the dining room. “I’ll be right back.”
I wasn’t buying that, and neither was my mom. “Why do you get on him about his business?” Mom asked my dad. “You know he likes to do things his way.”
“Because he’s being stubborn for no good reason. If he’s planning on a family, he needs to think smarter about how to generate the most income while keeping expenses down.”
Manning struggled with that part of his business. Building each piece to his nearly impossible specifications kept him from looking for help, but he also felt pressured to not only take on—but please—every client.
“He’s doing everything the way he needs to,” I said, also getting up. “He’d never hire cheap labor to make an extra buck. Also, he’s more dedicated than anyone I know, and he has a loyal customer base to show for it.”
“I didn’t say anything about dedication,” Dad called after me as I left the room. “I’m talking about basic supply and demand here.”
I took my jacket from the coatrack and pulled it on as I went out front. With the setting sun as his backdrop, Manning leaned against the side of his truck, smoking. Again. I bypassed the front walkway for the lawn’s grassy hill, which got me to him faster. “What’s the matter?” I asked.