Dad and I clink glasses. "What are we toasting?" I ask.
"You're home," he says.
"It's like you were expecting me," I say.
Dad smiles. "Well, to be honest, I was. Jetson called and told me you’d landed."
"I suppose that makes sense," I say. "Nothing really gets past you, does it?"
"Is that a bad thing?" Dad asks.
Together we walk outside toward the veranda and I take in a deep breath. "I came because I needed to talk to you."
Dad frowns. "Something wrong?"
I shrug. "Not wrong exactly."
"Are you in trouble?" he asks, "because I can get the O'Malleys on it right away."
"The O'Malleys," I say, balking at the mention of my uncle’s family. "Dad, I don't need the mobsters involved in this. It's just my life."
"I know, but Fiona, you're my whole world."
I twist my lips. "Maybe I shouldn't be, Dad. Maybe you should find someone and get married and live happily ever after."
Dad frowns, taking a drink of his lemonade. "I had that once with your mother," he reminds me.
"I know, Dad. Sorry. I wasn't trying to bring up painful memories."
Dad shakes his head. "It's okay, sweetheart. Tell me, why did you come all the way out here? What do you need to talk about?"
I press my lips together, making sure I have the words right before I spill the beans. "I don't want to finish college," I tell him.
His eyes widen. "What?"
"I know it's what you want for me, but Daddy, it's not what I want for me."
"What do you want?” he asks.
I look down at what I'm wearing. It's all handmade by me. Clothing I'm proud of. "I want to start a clothing line," I say. Dad immediately scoffs. "No, just hear me out," I say. "You know that I've been making clothing for the last, what? Three, four years? And I know you think Instagram is silly, but I'm able to sell my pieces there. They get snatched up in seconds. Would you believe that this top would sell for $300?"
Dad laughs. "It's a t-shirt."
"I know, but it's vintage, and I hand-embroidered the neckline."
Dad nods slowly. "You always were creative, just like your mother."
"I know," I say. "I remember when Mom taught me to embroider when I was a little girl. I think I poked my fingers a dozen times before I got the hang of it. She was so patient with me."
"Good memories," Dad says.
"Yeah," I say. "They are, and I feel like I'm letting myself down by not pursuing what I want. It's more than memories. I want this to be my life."
Dad sets down his lemonade, listening. As a businessman, he's shrewd. He listens for details and pays attention to cracks in stories. But I know he hears me. He listens. That's never been his problem. "You just want to quit? You only have a year left."
"I know. I can always go back to school though, Dad. I don't love it. I don't even like it. I'm going through the motions and I'm just getting this feeling like life is precious, short. There are no guarantees. I know I'm just twenty-one years old, but if this was the last year of my life, I wouldn't want to spend it on a college campus. I'd want to be in a studio with a sewing machine designing art."
"I thought you were making clothing."
"Dad, it's not the same thing. And honestly you should understand. Mom was a creative soul too."
"So you came out here to get my blessing to quit school, throw all of that hard work away?"
"Is it throwing it away? Dad, all that hard work has made me who I am."
"So what next?" Dad asks. "You're just going to go to the registrar's office and withdraw?"
"I guess. And maybe get a job until the clothing line takes off.”
“A job? Fi, you’ve grown up attending the finest boarding school and flying in private jets.”
“Dad, I don't care about the jets. Do I appreciate the accommodations? Sure. But it's not necessary."
"I'm taking care of you," he says, "until you marry a man who can do that. I'm perfectly happy to pay your expenses, Fiona. God, what do you think I am?”
“I don't know, Daddy. I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you."
"You're not. I want you to be happy. Is this a shock? Sure. But I suppose there are worse things than a child wanting to follow their heart."
I wrap my arms around him. "Oh, Dad. Thank you so much."
He laughs. "All right. Is that it? Are you flying back right now? Come for one conversation and be done?"
I shake my head. "No, I'm meeting Lucia at the Crown Casino Beach Club. We're going swimming."
"She's still going to school here?"
I nod, "Yes. She's living at the casino. Her dad gave her a penthouse apartment."
"Good. Her dad always was smart."