Part Thirty-four
"I-- ran into Marguerite a couple of hours ago when I was buying coffee and she invited me," Sydney hears her father say. "May I--"
"Please. Come in," Michael says hastily. Sydney stops on her journey to the kitchen and turns to greet him.
"Hi, Dad," she says weakly.
"Hello, Sydney."
"Did you say buying coffee?" Sydney asks, bewildered. "Because this is nowhere near your neighborhood, what were you--"
"I buy my coffee beans from a shop around the corner," Jack says, looking a little embarrassed.
"Best in town, aren't they, Jack?" Marguerite sings, returning to the room with Jack and Emily in tow, Grace on her hip. "I'm glad you could make it."
"Thank you. I, uh, picked up some pasta salad from a deli near my house," he says, holding out a plastic container. "It's very good." Sydney has rarely seen him look more uncomfortable. No, that's not true. He looked just as uncomfortable at Sydney and Michael's engagement party, at the party they'd thrown after Grace was born-- basically at any occasion that has ever required him to be social.
"Thank you, Jack," Marguerite says, taking the container from him with her free hand. "I'll put it in the fridge until it's time to each. Sydney, darling, will you give me a hand in the kitchen? Here, Gracie. Go to your grandfather." She hands the child to Sydney's father, then turns back toward the kitchen, leaving Emily and Jack to show their daddy and grampy the presents Grammy gave them.
"Now, all of the vegetables except for the eggplant and squash have been cut up," Marguerite trills as she begins removing Tupperware containers from the fridge and putting them on the counter. "We just need to arrange them on the skewers and grill them. And we have your father's salad, and the potatoes are baking--"
"Why did you invite him, Marguerite?" Sydney blurts, doing her best to keep her voice low.
"Well, why shouldn't I, dear?" Marguerite asks, getting out a cutting board and a knife and handing them to Sydney. "I ran into him a couple of hours ago and mentioned that you and Michael were bringing the children over. Why shouldn't he have another chance to see the little ones before you head back to New York?"
Sydney sighs. "I just wish you'd have warned me that he was coming. I don't feel very prepared to see him."
"I didn't run into him until after I spoke to Michael." Marguerite looks completely bewildered, as if she can't fathom what the big deal is. "And you shouldn't have to prepare to see your own father."
"Surely you're not that clueless."
Marguerite looks at her, clearly surprised and wounded.
"I'm sorry, Marguerite, I didn't mean that the way it sounded," Sydney apologizes. "But you've known me for years now. Surely you know that things are hardly perfect between my father and I. The other night, we had our first civil meal together in a long time, and it was only civil because both of us spent the entire night walking on eggshells."
"Well, things are hardly going to get better with the man by avoiding him," Marguerite says crisply, handing Sydney the eggplant and squash.
"I know they won't," Sydney sighs, going to work slicing the vegetables. "But you don't understand. He completely disapproves of the way I live my life, he--"
"Let's not make this more than it is, Sydney," Marguerite cuts in. "It's lunch with your father, your mother-in-law, your husband, and your children. That's all it needs to be. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go offer my guests something to drink."
She has been gone approximately thirty seconds when Sydney feels strong hands on her waist, and she turns and lets Michael wrap his arms around her.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice low.
"I'm fine," Sydney sighs. "Your mother's right. I'm making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be. The other night went okay, right?"
"Right," Michael agrees. "Just the same, I know you were looking forward to just having a day where you could relax. I'm sorry that's not the case."
"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," Sydney responds, smiling up at him. "I love you."
"I love you, too," Michael says with a smile. "Hey, you already missed one of the best moments of the day."
"Hmm?"
"Emily showed your father the gift my mother gave her."
Sydney regards him curiously. "What did she give her? One of those toy vacuum cleaners? A play oven?" she asks, trying to imagine gifts her father would find objectionable.
"You're on the right track," Michael confirms. "She got her a baby doll, and it has a little cloth diaper you can take on and off, and bottles you can feed it, and everything. I think Mom is having these adorable visions of her sitting down to feed it when you feed the new baby, changing it's diaper when you change the new baby's diaper, that sort of thing."
"That's really sweet," Sydney says with a smile.
"Yeah, well, from the look on your father's face, Emily's getting a doctor's kit for her birthday. Or a science kit or something of the like."
Sydney sighs. "How many hours till we're back in New York?"
"Less than twenty-four," Michael tells her, kissing the top of her head. "Do you need help?"
"Grab a knife and start chopping," Sydney responds with a smile.
Everyone helps to get lunch ready-- Jack and Emily set the table, Sydney's father fills glasses with lemonade and iced tea, Michael mans the grill, and Marguerite flits around getting things out of the oven and giving directions-- and before long, the seven of them are seated around Marguerite's dining room table.
"I'll bet you're not looking forward to the flight tomorrow, Sydney and Michael," Marguerite says, once they have all served themselves and begun eating.
"Anything that gets us back to New York," Sydney whispers to Michael, and Michael laughs. Out loud, she says, "It's not such a bad flight, Marguerite, though we do have to change planes once, which is always kind of a hassle."
"Have you booked Jack's and my flight to New York for Emily's birthday, Michael?" Marguerite asks.
"I haven't booked yours yet, Mom," Michael responds. "Jack already has his ticket, right, Jack?"
"Yes," Sydney's father responds, taking a sip of his iced tea.
"I don't understand," Marguerite says with a frown. "I thought you were flying us out together, Michael."
"I was planning to, but--"
"I made my own arrangements earlier, Marguerite," Jack cuts in.
"But why?" Marguerite persists. "Didn't Michael tell you he was flying us out together?"
"I decided to make my own arrangements," Jack says, in a tone that would indicate to most people that the conversation is over.
"I don't see why," Marguerite says, bewildered. "It would be so much more convenient for us to arrive at the same time, and who knows if there are even seats left on your flight. Is your ticket refundable?"
"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of taking care of my own travel arrangements, Marguerite," Jack snaps.
"This isn't about capability," Marguerite says, aghast. "This is about my son and your daughter inviting us into their home and coming up with a way to get us there that works best for everyone, and--"
"Please don't try and tell me that your son knows what's best for everyone. He's taken my college educated daughter and made her into a nanny and a housekeeper, for God's sake."
The silence that follows his words is deafening. It is Michael who finally breaks it. "Jack, I did not--"
"Michael, don't," Sydney says softly, shaking her head. "This isn't about you. It's never been about you."
"Oh, I think it's a little bit about him," Marguerite says icily. "It's about--"
"No, it's not about him," Sydney cuts in firmly. "It's something my father's been wanting to say for years." She directs her attention to her father. "I hope you're happy now that you've finally gotten that off your chest." She rises from the table, shooting a quick smile at Marguerite. "Excuse me."
