When I admitted I was wrong, Andrea smiled, satisfied.
"So there's still hope for you. At least you know how to own up to your problems."
"From now on, work harder around here, and stop scheming for petty little gains all day."
I gave a small smile and said calmly,
"Don't worry. It won't happen again."
My son shot me a surprised glance but said nothing.
Daphne, though, jumped right in.
"Dad, since you're not coming out to eat with us, you can clean up the back kitchen, then close out and lock up for the night."
"Stewart and I are taking my mom out for a late-night bite first."
I nodded. "All right."
Then I turned and walked straight into the back kitchen.
As I stepped inside, I could still faintly hear Andrea grumbling out front.
"Stewart, your father is impossible."
"We only fined him ten thousand dollars. What's with the sour face in front of the staff?"
"He's the one who was in the wrong to begin with, and he acts like we're the ones mistreating him."
My son sighed, unbothered.
"That's just how he is. Don't stoop to his level."
Andrea said nothing more.
But Daphne still wasn't easy about it. She suddenly dropped her voice.
"Are we really just going to leave?"
"What if your dad gets light-fingered again, all alone in the store?"
At that, my son was quiet for two seconds, then said flatly,
"Relax. We've got twenty-four-hour cameras everywhere in the store."
"I review the footage every day. Whether he's taken anything or not, I know exactly what's what."
Hearing that, I smiled.
No wonder that first day I came in to help, my son couldn't wait to have someone install cameras in every corner of the place.
So it had all been to guard against me.
And the more laughable part: he'd already seen from that footage that in five years I had never taken a single thing, and he still let Andrea's slander stand, pinning a filthy little thief's name on me right along with her.
This was my son.
The good son I had poured everything into loving.
