Sanctuary

past Sam into the kitchen. Sam stood where he was for a minute, debating. It wasn’t hard for one man to spot when another had spent the night rolling around with a woman on hot, tangled sheets. Seeing that relaxed, satisfied look on his son’s face had made him feel foolish—and envious. And he thought of how much easier it would be all around for him to keep walking and just leave things where they lay.
    With a grunt, he pulled off his cap again and went back inside.
    “Need to have a word with you.”
    Brian glanced over. He’d already donned a butcher’s apron and was pouring coffee beans into the grinder. “I’m busy here.”
    Sam planted his feet. “I need a word with you just the same.”
    “Then you’ll have to talk while I work.” Brian flicked the switch on the grinder and filled the kitchen with noise and scent. “I’m running a little behind this morning.”
    “Uh-huh.” Sam twisted his cap in his hands and decided to wait until the grinder was finished rather than trying to talk over it. He watched Brian measure out coffee, measure out water, then set the big Bunn Omatic on to brew. “I, ah, was surprised you weren’t already in here at this.”
    Brian took out a large bowl and began to gather the basics for his biscuits. “I don’t punch a time clock for anybody but myself.”
    “No, no, you don’t.” He hadn’t meant it that way, and wished to God he knew how to talk to a man wearing an apron and scooping into flour and lard. “What I wanted to say was about yesterday—last night.”
    Brian poured milk, eyeballing the amount. “I said all I had to say, and I don’t see the point in rehashing it.”
    “So, you figure you can say your piece, but I’m not entitled to say mine.”
    Brian snatched up a wooden spoon, cradled the bowl in his arm out of habit and began to beat. The dreamy afterglow of all-night sex had dulled to lead. “What I figure is you’ve had a lifetime to say yours, and I’ve got work to do.”
    “You’re a hard man, Brian.”
    “I learned by example.”
    It was a neat and well-aimed little dart. Sam acknowledged it, accepted it. Then, weary of playing the supplicant, he tossed his cap aside. “You’ll listen to what I have to say, then we’ll be done with it.”
    “Say it, then.” He dumped the dough on a floured board and plunged his hands into it to knead violently. “And let’s be done with it.”
    “You were right.” Sam felt the click in his throat and swallowed it. “Everything you said was right, and true.”
    Wrist-deep in biscuit dough, Brian turned his head and stared. “What?”
    “And I respect you for having the courage to say it.”
    “What?”
    “You got flour in your ears?” Sam said impatiently. “I said you were right, and you were right to say it. How long does it take that goddamn contraption to make a goddamn cup of coffee?” he muttered, staring accusingly at the machine.
    Slowly, Brian began to knead again, but he kept his eyes on Sam. “You could squeeze off a cup if you need one.”
    “Well, I do.” He opened a cupboard door, then scowled at the glasses and stemware.
    “Coffee cups and mugs haven’t been kept there for eight years,” Brian said mildly. “Two cupboards down to the left—right over the coffee beverage area.”
    “Coffee beverage area,” Sam murmured. “Fancy names for fancy drinks when all a man wants is a cup of black coffee.”
    “Our cappuccino and lattes are very popular.”
    Sam knew what cappuccino was, right enough—or was mostly sure. But lattes baffled him. He grunted, then carefully slid the glass carafe out to pour coffee into his mug. He sipped, felt a little better, and sipped again. “It’s good coffee.”
    “It’s all in the beans.”
    “I guess grinding them fresh makes some difference.”
    “All the difference in the world.” Brian dropped the dough in the bowl, covered it, then walked to the sink to wash up. “Now, I believe we have what could pass as an actual conversation for the first time in, oh, most of my life.”
    “I haven’t done right by you.” Sam stared down into the rich black liquid in his mug. “I’m sorry.”
    Brian stopped drying his hands and gaped. “What?”
    “Damned if I’m going to keep repeating myself.” Sam jerked his head up, and his eyes were filled with frustration. “I’m giving you an apology, and you ought to be big enough to take it.”
    Brian held up a hand before it all descended into an argument again. “You