He wasn’t going to be able to solve this. His parents needed to fix it. Plus, he couldn’t figure out why his mom had suddenly decided she wasn’t cooking and cleaning for his dad anymore. The last time he was home for a visit, she couldn’t do enough for them. Things seemed normal. How could a thirty-five year marriage fall apart in less than five months?

Drew heaved a sigh. “Dad, maybe you should start at the beginning and explain what happened.”

His dad took another swig of beer. He claimed he didn’t care for Drew’s taste in beer when he visited Seattle, but he managed to drink a few. Maybe Owen, the chef, might pick up a six-pack or two along with the ingredients for tomorrow night’s dinner if Drew gave him a few extra bucks to do so. Grocery stores were yet another place Drew stayed out of during the season; a beer run might take two hours after signing autographs. He knew it was part of his job. He enjoyed meeting Sharks fans. Sometimes, though, he longed for the same quick, anonymous errands people in his family or his non-football friends enjoyed.

Drew settled back in his chair and waited. His dad put the bottle back down on the kitchen table with a slight thump and let out a long breath.

“Your mother went out and got a job.”

“Why?”

“She said she hardly knew what to do with herself. You all are out on your own, it’s just us, and it didn’t take her eight hours a day to wash my shorts and figure out what was for dinner. She also said something about wanting her own money, which is ridiculous. I told her thirty-five years ago that it wasn’t “mine” or “hers,” it was ours. She said she feels weird about buying me a present with my money. I told her I didn’t give a shit about that.” His dad passed one hand over his face again. “She works during the daytime. Sometimes she works on the weekends. I want to sit and watch the game with my best girl, and she’s taking clothes orders or working in the returns department instead.”

“What’s she doing, Dad?”

“She got a job with that big mail-order clothes company in Dodgeville. All their operators are women your mom’s age that help people buy things, and then they chat a little about their grandchildren or the Green Bay team or whatever the customer wants to talk about. She’s all excited because one of her cookie recipes is included in this year’s holiday catalog. I think she likes being there more than she likes me right now.”

“That can’t be true.”

“She . . . Son, maybe she doesn’t love me anymore.” His dad rested his face in both hands.

Drew’s dad was as big as he was. He remembered thinking his dad was the biggest man in the world next to his grandfather when he was younger. He’d never seen his dad cry. The biggest show of emotion from him was when his mom had to have an emergency gallbladder removal a few years back. He told the surgeon that Drew’s mom was his everything and to make sure she came back to him. He wasn’t a lovey-dovey kind of a guy, but he bought Drew’s mother flowers and told her she was the love of his life when she woke up from the anesthesia.

“If she didn’t love you, she wouldn’t have called around looking for you,” Drew said. “She’s not doing this to hurt you. She might want something to occupy her time while you’re working, Dad.” He awkwardly patted his dad on the back. “Do you want me to talk to her?”

“I can handle it.”

“Then why are you here?”

His father let out a long breath. “You’re not happy I came to visit.”

“I’m always happy to see you. I’m a little confused, though.”

“If she wants a break, maybe she should have one,” his dad said. “I’ll stay for a few days, let her think about it, and then I’ll go home.”

Drew loved his family and missed them a lot, but he couldn’t imagine what his dad was going to do with himself when Drew was at the Sharks practice facility for twelve hours a day. If this kept up all week, he was also staying overnight in the team hotel before the game on Sunday; it wasn’t like his dad had any poker buddies or golf cronies in the area to hang around with.

“Dad. I love visiting with you, but I’m worried there won’t be a lot for you to do over the next few days. I have to be at the facility.”

His dad pulled a handful of colorful brochures out of his back pocket. “I got these at the airport. I’ll have plenty to do.” He dropped them on the table in front of Drew. “There’s a Museum of Flight, which has the Concorde and the space shuttle simulator. I’ve never been to the Space Needle or Pike Place Market. There’s a candy factory in some place called Issaquah. I’ve never been on a tour of the stadium you play in, and see, here’s a brochure for it.”

“Dad, I can get you a VIP tour—”

“Don’t worry about me. I have a rental car and some money. We can get together for dinner or something in the evenings. How about that?”

“Sure. I’d enjoy it.”

Drew heard the insertion of a key in the front door lock. Owen was here to start his prep for dinner. He worked for several of the Sharks during the season. Luckily for him, his other clients lived within a two-mile radius of Drew’s house.

Owen walked into the kitchen and bumped fists with Drew.

“Got your text. There’s plenty of food for both of you tonight.”

“Great.” Drew indicated his dad with a nod. “Owen, this is my dad, Neil. Dad, Owen.”

Owen extended his hand to shake Drew’s dad’s. “Nice to meet you. Are there any food sensitivities I should know about before I start?”

Neil McCoy shook his head. “Nope.” He folded his lips a little.

“My dad’s not going to ask you this, but I know he’s hoping there’s no chick food on the menu tonight.”

Owen hefted the refrigerated bags he’d brought and his knife case onto Drew’s kitchen island. “How does cilantro-lime fish tacos served with mango salsa and avocado crème sound to you? I’ve got some Mexican rice and beans to go with them. I have some dulce de leche ice cream for dessert as well.”

“Sounds great, Owen. Dad, you’ll enjoy it.” His dad looked a bit befuddled, but Drew knew his idea of cuisine was a piece of meat and a potato. He’d be okay. “Do you need anything else right now?”

“Nope.” Owen glanced over at the beers on Drew’s table. “I tried to get some of that when I was at the store last week. It sells out.”

“I had to carry the last six-pack out in my teeth,” Drew assured him. Owen let out a snort and arrayed pots and pans on Drew’s cooktop. “Want one?”

“Hell, yeah, and thanks. I’ll crack it open later. Will Neil be here the rest of the week?”

“Yes,” Drew’s dad said.

“I’ll make sure there’s plenty of food, then. How do you feel about quinoa and kale casserole?” It was obvious by Owen’s grin he was teasing a little, but Neil looked horrified.

“Dad. He’s joking,” Drew said. “If you’d make some stuff that’s friendly for a guy who likes entrees like spaghetti and meat and potatoes, I’ll eat the chickified stuff. I’m going to need a little extra bulk on Sunday, that’s for sure.”

“Dallas?” Owen said.

“Shit, yeah, and their offensive line is a nightmare these days.”

“You’ll kick their asses,” Owen said. “Watching their QB sit on the turf and cry at Sharks Stadium is one of my favorite memories.”

“That was excellent, wasn’t it?” Drew got up from the table and crossed to the island, feeling around for his wallet. “If you’re making more stuff for Dad, I need to spot you some cash for the ingredients.”

“I’ll bill you. Don’t worry about it.” Owen grinned at Neil. “By the time I get done with you, you’ll be eating ceviche and Thai coconut curry.”

“Ceviche,” his dad said in a low voice. The food alone might scare him right back to Wisconsin.

“Would you also be willing to bill me for a couple of decent six-packs when you make a store run?” Drew said.

“I can do that.” Owen poured a slick of extra-virgin olive oil into his frying pan. “You must have gotten ambushed in the grocery store again.”