The Register

Chapter 2: The (New) Old Place

My dad was waiting in the baggage claim when I arrived. He gave me the obligatory hug and kiss. I was thrilled that Leslie hadn't tagged along.

Dad married Leslie when she was 21. And I was 15. So yeah, you do the math. I showed her due respect because she was my step-mother, which was a bit creepy since she was only six years older than me. Dad seemed happy with her, but I always thought she was a gold digger, a young buxom blonde who married my wealthy father when she was barely an adult. What further irritated me was the fact that she was a major player during one of the worst years of my life, 2007. That was the year Nana Sylvi died, the year my mom told me she was moving to Amsterdam, and the year Dad married someone half his age. I suppose I had nothing personal against her, just a general resentment of her presence in my life.

"How was the flight?" He asked as I spied my bags coming around the carousel.

"Boring," I chuckled and grabbed the first one. "That one's mine, too," I said pointing to the other suitcase following close behind. We made our way to his Lincoln Navigator in silence. Why he needed such an enormous, gas-guzzling vehicle was a mystery to me, since he had no other children besides Melissa and me, and we were both grown.

Once we got situated, he asked, "Are you hungry?"

I really didn't want to hurt his feelings, but I'd rather just get settled into my new digs. "I'm kind of tired. Can we just go straight there?"

"Caila, I only get to see you a few times a year. Can't we just have a quick bite to eat?"

"I guess that's fine," I relented. "But remember, I'm back for a while now, so you'll have more time to see me."

"Just don't make yourself a stranger," he admonished.

"That goes, both ways, Dad."

We stopped at some American burger joint, of which I don't even remember the name. It was mainly small talk - all things we could have covered in an email or over the phone, but I got it - he was my dad and wanted to see me in person. If that small detour satisfied him, I was okay with it. We finished up quickly and headed out to Grosse Ile.

When we pulled up in front of the old place, it still looked relatively the same, only nicer. The brickwork was patched up and the lawn was nicely trimmed; a new slate sidewalk had been put in, winding from the drive to the front door. I could also see that some work had been done to the old carriage house - new windows and paint, and a blacktopped driveway, to name a few things.

A tall, slim man with long, curly brown hair chased a little red-haired toddler around the front yard, throwing a ball and following when she failed to catch it. His eyes turned towards us as we parked, so he scooped up the little girl and came to welcome us.

"Hello, I'm Harry Styles," he said warmly and in a lovely British accent. I hadn't ever spoken to him on the phone, only to his wife Regan, so that was a bit unexpected. He was undeniably handsome as well so it was hard not to stare. "You must be Caila," he smiled. Damn, his wife was a lucky woman.

"Yes, and this is my dad, Charles Ford," I said by way of introduction.

"Great to meet you both," Harry said. Looking at the adorable baby with flaming red hair in his arms, he announced, "And this is Melody." Then turning his attention to my father, he asked, "Any chance you're part of the Ford family, as in the automakers?"

"You got me," Dad shrugged. "Vice President, Advanced Engineering Service Division." True to form, he pulled out a business card and handed it to Harry.

"Ahh, my father Robin worked for the company some years back. He was here on a contract from England, specifically working on a powertrain project. But that's as much as I know," he chuckled.