ARKEN

Business Trip, Part One

Recker arrived home, pulling up and getting out to walk up the steps of his two-story Victorian-style house. He entered and barely had time to set down his briefcase before being ambushed by a barrage of hugs from his two young sons, Dylan and Gregory, eight and seven respectively. They looked a lot alike, with similar facial features and both had their father's dark black hair and long, slender nose.

"Dad!" Dylan yelled.

"Hey! Yes, I'm home!"

Just when he'd gotten free from them, Margaret was there to hug him. Margaret was his wife of twenty-seven years. She had gray eyes set lightly in shallow sockets, with rosy cheeks and curly blonde hair she wore quite long. She gave him a kiss, "How was your day, Honey?"

"It was a pretty average day." He could smell something good in the kitchen, "What's on the menu tonight?"

"Lasagna with salad, your favorite," she beamed. In all their years, Margaret was always so eager to please him, it was something he liked about her. It was that, and how great she was with their children. A man couldn't ask for a better wife.

"Go wash up, all of you. Dinner will be ready in five minutes," she called out.

Recker hung up his long coat and grabbed his briefcase, following the boys upstairs. On the way to his office, he passed his daughter's room. He could hear music playing in there.

Recker dropped by his office, opening the door and setting his briefcase inside. He went to the bathroom, where the boys were hurriedly washing their hands, playing while doing so.

"Hey, hey! No horse play in here! You're getting water everywhere!" Recker warned. The boys dried their hands and left, and Recker washed up himself. On the way back, he stopped and knocked. The door opened and Kimberly was standing there.

Kimberly was fifteen years old, a beautiful girl with her father's blue eyes and her mother's blonde hair. She had on a pair of leggings and a tee-shirt for some boy band Recker didn't know much about. She also wore an unzipped hooded jacket with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Some pop music was playing on Kimberly's computer on her bed.

"Hi, Daddy," she leaned forward on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

"It's time for dinner," he said. She nodded, "I'll be down in a moment." She shut the door and Recker went downstairs to the dining room. He sat down at the head of the table just as Margaret was putting out the food. "Looks good as always, Margie."

Not long after, Kimberly came down and they all began to eat. During dinner, casual conversation was exchanged. "So, Kimmy, how was school?" Margaret asked.

"We got assigned a project based on a movie of our choice. Shirleen and I are going to work on it this weekend."

As Recker ate another bite of lasagna, he decided it would be better if he came right out with it. "So, listen..." he started, "I've got to go to a sales conference."

Margaret frowned. He did his best to minimize the situation, "It's fine...it's just three days, probably not even that long. Then I'll be back."

"Where?"

"Liverpool."

"Why do they always have to send you? Aren't there others? Men without families?"

"Some, but they send me for a reason," he reminded her. Margaret shook her head, "I hope they never forget how important you are. They ought to remember that next time they consider raises."