I sniffled. “I just really missed you. Everything’s great, but it’s just been too long.”
He curved an arm around me and ushered me over to his little booth, settling me across from him before he slid into his own bench seat. I smiled at him and he returned the sentiment. For a man in his late forties, he was still physically fit and incredibly handsome.
“How’d this month’s online orders go?” he asked me, knowing exactly what to say to snap me out of my moment of melancholy. “You said you were filling up pretty fast.”
His question perked me right up. Business was our shared passion and expressing interest in my store was his love language. “Yeah, we sold out completely after I talked to you. All the sale inventory went out the door, so this month I have to find new stuff to discount so we can move it again, but I have a bead on some local designer’s last-season overstocks, so I think next month will be the best month ever.”
My dad nodded, looking satisfied. “Great. And what about your space?”
I hesitated as I picked my words carefully. “It’s good for now. But we’re going to outgrow it sooner than I thought. My accountant is putting some money aside for a new spot when the time is right, but I prioritize my loan and interest payments to you before that.”
“Honey,” my dad said in a gentle tone as he reached out and placed one hand on top of mine. “You really don’t need to pay me back right now if it’s going to hold you back. You’re my daughter, and I can forgive the loan.”
I shook my head adamantly. “No way. I’m grateful for all the help getting started, but it matters tomethat I pay you back. I want to do this right.”
“Are you sure? There’s nothing wrong with accepting some help.”
When I moved to Seattle six years earlier for college, trailing behind a long-term boyfriend, I knew I wanted to start my own boutique, and two years ago, with a fresh diploma and a recent breakup, Dad handed me a folded check to cover all of my estimated startup costs and a few months of living expenses for myself. I tore up the check and came up with a business plan instead, and submitted it to him along with a detailed loaned repayment plan for a different, smaller amount. He wrote the check on the spot, and despite his protests that the loan was always a gift, I wired payments back to him every month. And if my luck held, especially with our growing e-commerce, I would pay off the loan in full ahead of schedule.
“Yeah, Daddy,” I replied. “I’m positive.”
Over a lunch of delicious chicken tagine, he grilled me over every part of the business, including pricing structure, payroll and staffing.
“So you think you can handle another employee?” he said around a mouthful of rice.
I sipped my tea thoughtfully. “Yeah, I think we probably can. Just my own nerves holding me back.”
He set his fork down and pushed the plate away, groaning as he patted his flat stomach. “God, that was good. Good thing that there’s all these goddamn hills around here to help me burn it off.”
I snorted. “Like you won’t spend two hours in the hotel gym later.”
“Actually,” he said, brightening slightly. “If you have the time, I’m about to go meet up with Sawyer. Do you want to come with me? You haven’t met him yet, and I’d love to spend a little more time with you before you run off back to your glamorous Seattle life.”
“Sawyer.” I frowned. “Remind me again what he does? You’ve mentioned the name.”
“He’s based in Minneapolis now, but he’s partnering with me on a building we want to buy out here,” Dad explained. “Hopefully one of several, but we’ll see how things go. He would move to Seattle and run the offices here.”
Oh,thatSawyer. Dad had dropped the name a few times during our weekly phone calls, and I gathered that his work with Sawyer was taking up more and more of his time. I might as well meet the guy, since he might be around long-term as my father’s business partner.
“Sure,” I said, shrugging. “It’s my day off, so I may as well.”
“Fantastic.” Dad picked up his phone and tapped at the screen. “He’s actually at a coffee shop down the street, so let’s walk. I need to move around after all that food anyway.”
Bright early spring sunshine shone down from the startlingly clear sky, a rarity for Seattle, and I breathed deeply as we stepped out on the sidewalk, inhaling the city smells and underneath it, the salty tang of the ocean.
“You really do love it here,” Dad said thoughtfully, his eyes on me as we walked. “And today especially you seem really…happy and alive.”
I paused to look in the window of another retail store, assessing the display and selection with a practiced eye.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Seattle is kind of it for me. It’s the place where I feel most like myself, and like I can do anything I want to do.”
His hand landed on my back, warm and comforting. “If that’s what you need so you can thrive, then that’s what I want for you. Even if I do miss you terribly.”
I followed Dad a few blocks down the street, past the Pacific Heights Hotel again and over to a big chain coffee shop. In the softly lit interior, mellow jazz music floated in through hidden speakers, and just a few people at the scattered tables, most of them typing away on laptops and tablets.
Dad pointed to seated figure at a corner table, facing away from us, wearing a fleece sweater and a purple baseball cap. The way he hunched over his laptop, absorbed in his work as he tapped away with absolute focus, reminded me of my dad.
After Mom died, Dad reorganized all of his work hours to be with me when I came home from school, working late every night to make up the difference. I would sneak out of bed and find him slouched in front of his laptop, working relentlessly to take care of me and the employees who depended on him. I smiled at the memory. It wasn’t painful to me anymore—instead, I just felt grateful to have a parent who sacrificed so much to be available for his traumatized daughter.