"Jackson can help too." Alice volunteered. "And I know a recipe for a great wine spritzer."
"You're all invited," Patrick said. "I can't think of a better way to kick off my retirement."
I scratched my head. "So, you're really going to go through with it?"
"I made my mistakes and now I have to pay for them. Though, thanks to Alice, I don't have to have them on my permanent record. I can retire with my dignity intact."
"Thank god, because I used to think you might die in your desk chair," Clarity joked.
"Nope, see? I've even got a whole new wardrobe. No more suit or sweater vests for me. It's exciting, and I'm sorry to say I don't want to turn away from that at this point in my life," Patrick said.
Clarity grinned. "What he means to say is there's no way he's trading his newfound plans for anything."
Jackson eyeballed Patrick's outfit. "You're taking up golf?" he asked.
"I was thinking boating," I joked.
Patrick laughed. "No, but it turns out I might get a chance to be an artist anyway. My daughter's change of direction inspired me and I decided to join one of the Landsman Alumni tours."
"Oh, come on, Dad, you're not fooling anyone," Clarity said. "Alice is a matchmaker; I'm sure she can guess what you're doing and why."
Alice grinned. "Let me guess—is there any chance this tour is led by Polly?"
Patrick narrowed his eyes at Alice but could not hide his smile. "Yes, it just so happens the tour and course is taught by Polly, but I have no idea what you think that means."
Jackson clapped him on the shoulder. "Look out, Alice has spoken. Plus, even I saw you looked at Polly the way Ford was looking at Clarity. That was some Thanksgiving party you threw."
"Alright, fine, I'll admit it," Patrick said. "I'm happy to have a chance to do what I love with someone that helps me love art even more."
Clarity laughed at the ruddy color of her father's cheeks. "I hate to say it, but maybe my mother wasn't so crazy all those years ago."
Patrick nodded. "You have to find what you love and chase it. Or, in your case, study it. Or, in Ford's case, admit it."
"What?" I asked. I snapped back to the conversation to realize that everyone was ringed around and staring at me. "I thought I already did all the admitting I had to do today."
"All I'm saying, Ford, is that maybe you should follow my example. Minus the scandal and the forced retirement. Better yet, why don't you follow Clarity's example. She's found what she loves to do and she's pursuing it."
I looked at Clarity and was arrested by completely different thoughts than her father's meaning. I loved Clarity and when I thought about what I really wanted to do, lately all that appeared in my head was her next to me in my bed. As much as Clarity might appreciate that for an afternoon or evening or two, she was not going to be impressed with me if I didn't find another passion.
"Wait, you said all I had to do was admit what I love to do,” I said. "Why are you all acting as if you know something that I don't know?"
Alice and Jackson led the way out of the assembly room and down the hallway. We all paused before stepping outside the glass doors. A flurry of snow was skating across the windows and leaving a faint, white dusting across the college lawns. The last of the leaves had finally fallen, and despite a week or two of unseasonable warmth, winter was finally on its way.
I gazed at the bare trees and the blowing snow. Maybe I could hibernate all winter, spend my time with Clarity, and figure out what I wanted to do in the spring. Even imagining it had me itching with cabin fever. I needed something to do, a job, a purpose, and it annoyed me that everyone else could see what it was but me.
I stopped Clarity. "Where do you think I should go from here?" I asked.
She smiled. "How about home to my father's for a glass of wine? It's not Christmas yet but there's no reason we can't all have dinner together."
"Pizza!" Jackson declared. "I might not be able to defend people in court, but I can throw a good crust."
"We'll pick up the ingredients and meet you there," Alice said.
I caught Clarity's hand as the doors opened. "That's not what I meant," I said.
She looked up at me with a twinkle in her deep green eyes. "What do you want to do? For a job, I mean," she blushed.
"I can't go back to journalism. No one will hire me. Sure, the expose article did a great job, it got great attention, but no one is going to hire me without recommendations. And, despite standing up to Barton, he still holds my credit. No one is going to hire someone that has been discredited by Wire Communications."