True North

Chapter 32

Fighting off a heavy case of the Midweek Blahs, Stormy worked the old vacuum over the carpet, leaving long even strokes in the weathered blue pile. Lulled by the repetitive push and pull motion and the baritone whine of the vacuum motor, her mind had just begun to wander when the room suddenly went silent as the vacuum cleaner quit.

"What the—," Stormy muttered, pressing the Power switch several times with her foot.

"A-hem," Walter cleared his throat. Stormy turned to find him standing in the doorway of the livingroom, the plug to the vacuum cleaner dangling from his hand. "That's good enough. Let's go."

Stormy glanced up at the clock on the wall.

"It's only eleven o'clock," she pointed out. "Your appointment isn't until one-thirty."

"I know that," Walter said. "I thought maybe we'd go to the diner for lunch first, my treat."

"Why?"

"'Why?'" Walter repeated, looking confused. "What the hell do you mean, 'why'? Can't a man take his own daughter to lunch?"

"No...well, I mean yes," Stormy answered. "I just meant that I can make lunch here if you're hungry. You don't have to take me out for lunch."

"Well, I know I don't have to," Walter said gruffly. "Heck, if you told me I had to, I wouldn't do it! I just thought it might be nice. To get out of the house, I mean. Look, if you don't want to go..."

"No, it's not that. I'll go," Stormy said. "It's just that...well, you've never...oh, never mind. Just give me a minute to change." She bounded up the stairs to her room.

When she emerged from the house a few moments later, she found Walter sitting in the driver's seat of his old Buick, fiddling with the radio and trying to appear nonchalant.

I knew it was too good to be true, Stormy thought, feeling somewhat let down. There's always a catch with him!

"Nooo way, not going to happen!" Stormy said as she strode toward the car. "The doctor said no driving for four weeks, so hand over the keys!"

"Bullshit!" Walter spat. "I think I know whether or not I'm fit to drive, and I say that I'm fit to drive!"

"I don't care. The doctor specifically said no driving for four weeks!" Stormy repeated. "The last thing you need is to be behind the wheel of the frigging car and have another heart attack!"

"I'd say I'm more likely to have one in the passenger seat, what with the way you drive!" he snapped back.

Stormy shifted her weight to one side, her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared back at him in defiance. She jabbed her hand out, palm facing up.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Walter fumed, dramatically flinging the door open and slapping the keys into her outstretched hand. He huffed around to the passenger side—muttering something that sounded like Damn kids!—and climbed in, slamming the door for effect. Stormy slid behind the wheel, closed her door, and turned the key in the ignition as Walter stared straight ahead. He looked briefly over at her and then turned his gaze back to the windshield.

"To the diner, Jeeves," he said, and Stormy was sure that he almost smiled.

Surprisingly, the lunchtime rush was in full swing when Stormy and Walter pushed through the glass door and stepped inside Joe's Diner. They went inside, where Peggy pointed them to a table on the far side of the room. A bell dinged, and her husband Joe appeared briefly in the window opening behind her as he set three heaping plates of food on the sill. He grinned and called out a greeting to them before disappearing back into the depths of the kitchen.