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“You made the right choice,” Darrel says from deeper in the room. “Donna’s coffee can make a plant shrivel up and die.”
Donna snorts. “Because I like my coffee black. Like your soul.”
Darrel smirks.
Donna winks at me. “I’ll leave you men to it.”
I shut the door myself. “Mr. Hastings. I appreciate you clearing your schedule.”
“You can call me Darrel,” he reminds me gently. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you… Darrel.”
Surprise flits over his face, but he covers it well. Smoothing a hand down his tie, Darrel moves into a wingback chair in front of his desk. I take the sofa and look around.
The office has little furniture save for his desk, the chairs, a bookcase and a file cabinet. However, there’s something warm about the room, something that I can’t place a finger on.
“Impressed?”
“There’s something… bright about this room. I didn’t expect it.”
“It was decorated by my wife.” A smile flits across his face as if his mouth can’t help but arch up at the mention of her.
“And those are your sons?” I point to the picture frames on his desk. The tall, brown-skinned woman with the long black hair in the photo is his wife Sunny. I recognize her from that day we shared lunch at the café.
There are two little boys—a shorter one with round glasses and a taller one with black hair.
“Yes.” He slides his hands together and balances them on his knee. “They’re growing so fast. I can’t keep up.”
My lips twist sadly. I’ll never have the opportunity to see Josiah grow up. Never get to see what he does with the tools I want to leave to him.
Silence settles between us and it’s more comfortable than I expected. I realize that I don’t know much about Darrel Hastings but, perhaps, he’s a little like me. That first time I rushed him out of my house and the second time, our meeting was abducted by his wife and Nardi.
However, I can tell that Darrel Hastings is no stranger to silence. In fact, like me, he seems comfortable with it.
Unfortunately, if I wanted to sit in silence, I could have just stayed at home.
“Are you waiting for me to speak?”
“I’m trying to decide if you’re here to see me professionally or personally.”
“What happens if I say it’s professional?”
“You’ll need to fill out some forms. Donna will take your credit card. I might suggest a brain scan after this. You’ll need to fill out more forms.”
“A brain scan sounds fun.”
His laughter is subdued. “You didn’t answer my question. Is this personal or professional?”
“Can I say it’s a little of both?”
“You can.” Darrel studies me. “I was surprised when you called.”
“It was a necessary step.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I had a conversation with someone last night that changed my mind about a few things.”