Chapter 31 James

After twenty minutes of frantic pacing, James was about to lose his mind when Liana and Mary Grace finally emerged from the bathroom together. Surprisingly, they were laughing like old friends.

"Liana," he started. But Mary Grace wrapped an arm around Liana and led her away, telling James, "We're just having a girls chat for a minute."

James had kicked Brock out of the event and had emailed the head of the PHCC to suggest that he be barred from future club events. Now, he wasn't sure what to do with himself if Liana wasn't going to talk to him. He didn't have it in him to make small talk with the guests — not when he'd screwed things up so badly with Liana.

As he stood there like an idiot, his dad approached him. "Son," he said quietly. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

James' first thought was to say no. But then again, how could this day get any worse? He may as well let his dad talk while he was already in a bad mood.

"Sure," James said, and they walked a short distance away from the other guests.

"I watched your whole semi-final," his dad said. "I saw everything that happened. If you hadn't kicked Brock out, I would have." A sad smile on his face, Peter said, "I declared the Huntingtons the winners of the tournament. I hope you don't mind. They won the other semifinal, and you didn't appear in any state to play them for a final match. So I gave the Huntingtons the trophy. They were quite pleased."

"Thank you, Dad. That was the right thing to do."

A silence stretched between them. Finally, James' father sighed. "I owe you an apology."

James started, sure he had heard his dad incorrectly. As long as James could remember, his father had never apologized for anything in his life, not to James and not to anyone else.

Peter ran a nervous hand down his face. "I'm not great at apologies, as you know. But after watching everything today, and talking with Liana this morning… well… I may have misjudged things, son."

James fought to keep his face neutral, determined to see where his father took things. But when Peter didn't continue, James asked, "What did you misjudge, Dad?"

"Well… Mary Grace, for a start. Anyone who would associate with someone like Brock may not be the best judge of character. And, when Don McMahon called me the other week, to talk about that sales job he had for you, he made it sound like you and Mary Grace were just on a little break and would get back together eventually."

"I'm sure that's what Mary Grace thought," said James. "But I told you we were done, Dad. I told you several times that I wasn't getting back with Mary Grace. Why couldn't you believe me?"

"I made a mistake, son. I — I guess I have this need to control things. I know I need to let go sometimes, to trust people to make their own decisions. Especially you. Your mother tells me this all the time." He offered a half smile to his son. "I really liked you and Mary Grace together, at least in high school and college. But I have to realize, you've grown up a lot since then, and people change. Maybe things changed between you two."

"They did, Dad."

His dad nodded. "I do trust you, James. I hope you know that. I want to let you make your own decisions. I shouldn't have meddled — not when you told me you weren't with Mary Grace anymore. And for what it's worth, I really like Liana. I don't remember her from high school. But from what I've seen of her so far, she's kind and stays calm in stressful situations. I think she's good for you."

"Thanks, Dad. Not that you have any say in whom I choose to be with."

"That's right. I don't."

"Is that all you want to apologize for, Dad?"

Peter chuckled. "I'm sure there are many other things I need to ask your forgiveness for. But what are you thinking of in particular?"

"How about the fact that you've never respected that I love pickleball? How about not respecting my career choices?"

Peter shook his head. "You're right. I have to say, I still don't understand some of those choices. Is this your long-term plan, son? To coach pickleball and play in some tournaments?"

"I honestly don't know. But don't you see? This is the first time you've ever asked me that question. I would hope we could have a conversation about my job and my plans before you hoist a job offer on me that we've never discussed."

"You're right. I shouldn't have done that."

"Thank you. Dad, I want to say… I truly admire you so much. And I'm so grateful that you and Mom have allowed me to work for the foundation. But I think the work has prevented me from trying out other jobs, from figuring out what I might want to do. The truth is, I know pickleball isn't a forever thing. It's a young person's game. I don't think coaching is what I want to do full-time, either. I love it, but I've realized recently that I can still keep teaching on the weekends while exploring other jobs."

"That's a good, level-headed assessment, son."

"Thank you. I just want to know I have your support to talk things through — that you will listen to me. That's all I ask."

"Well, that's very reasonable." His dad sighed again. "I want you to talk to me. I want to listen. I'm your dad. I should be your sounding board. I can't promise I'll be perfect. It's my instinct, as you know, to share my opinion. But I'll try. I'll try to hear you."

"Thank you." James felt like a broken record, but he was shocked by this conversation, the tenor of which was unlike all of his previous conversations with his father.

"So just to be clear… was that a no on working for Don specifically, or a no on real estate in general? Would you want to work with me instead?"

James had to laugh. "Let's just end this conversation here, Dad. We've made a lot of progress. I don't want to talk about working for you right now. Remember, I've just quit the foundation."

"I was hoping you would reconsider that, too. I know you said it in the heat of the moment."

"No, actually. I had been thinking about it for some time. I really want to go out on my own for a while. I know it's a privilege and a luxury to have these jobs lined up for me. But I just feel like I've been on… I guess a pre-ordained path for my whole life, starting with tennis and then with the foundation. I think I need to figure out my career for myself."

His dad clapped him on the back. Peter was never one for physical affection, so James was not surprised he didn't get a hug. "I'm proud of you, son. Also, on a different note, is your girlfriend Jewish?"

James groaned. Of course his dad couldn't resist being his meddling self. "Oh God. Just when I thought we were making progress on you not telling me what to do!"

"No, no," Peter said. "That came out wrong. I'm not trying to get between you two. I was only wondering if I could invite her to our Seder for Passover next week."

Just when James thought he couldn't be more surprised, his dad had dropped another bombshell. The Alonso Passover holiday Seder meals were legendary, led by the patriarch of the family, James' grandfather, who held court over a long table of dozens of influential Miami Jews and other guests. To receive an invitation was an exclusive honor. Even the McMahons had never been invited.

"Dad," James said evenly. "You've brought me up in the ways of the Torah. You know it's a mitzvah to share Passover with everyone, including non-Jews."

"You're right," his dad said. "I'll invite her either way."

James smiled. "That's great. Oh, and I was just trying to make you sweat a little. She is Jewish."

His dad's eyes crinkled in mirth. "Well, that's good. It doesn't matter either way, but it's better that she's Jewish."

James rolled his eyes. "Sure, Dad."

"Now, I do believe you and Liana were having a little tiff. Whatever you did, you'd better go make things right with her."

"How do you know it's my fault?"

"You think a father doesn't know these things? Besides, in a relationship, the woman is always right."

"For the record, it's the 21st century. We don't just say ‘yes, dear' anymore. A woman can be in the wrong. But in this particular case it is, in fact, my fault." James grimaced. "I do have some apologizing to do."

Peter nodded solemnly. "Go get her, son."