Storybook Dad. Laura Bradford

      At Seth’s silence, he reached inside and extracted the new book, flipping it open to reveal page after page of all things space related. “Isn’t this the coolest coloring book ever?”

      A search of his son’s face failed to net the enthusiasm Mark was hoping to see. Disappointed, he tried a different tactic. “If you get hungry, there’s an extra yummy cherry lollipop in the front pocket of your backpack that’s got your name all over it. Sound good?”

      Seth’s automatic nod stopped midway as his unusually dull eyes locked on Mark’s. “Daddy? I really would’ve been a good listener for Emily.”

      Mark raked a hand down his face before clasping his son’s shoulder. “My decision against taking you rock climbing this morning wasn’t about listening, little man. It was about keeping you safe.”

      It was a decision he still felt was right even now, some seven hours later. Any residual angst over the whole thing had more to do with his failure to call and cancel their private lesson than anything else.

      “Mark? They’re ready to start.”

      He glanced over his shoulder at the woman in her sixties situated behind the gray metal desk. “Thanks, Laurie.” Then, turning back to his son, he offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Maybe we can get some ice cream when this is over. How’s that sound?”

      Seth shrugged. “We have to eat dinner first, Daddy.”

      Mark didn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the solemn response more befitting an adult than a four-and-a-half-year-old boy. It made sense, considering everything Seth had been through the past year, but it made Mark all the more protective of his son’s childhood.

      “Maybe we can make an exception this one time.” He brushed a kiss across Seth’s head and then stood, his trip to the conference room requiring little more than a stride or two. When he reached the door, he took one last peek at his son, who was still standing in the middle of the foundation’s reception area.

      “We’ll be fine,” Laurie assured him. “Now go. The sooner you get in, the sooner you’ll be out.”

      “Thanks, Laurie.”

      “My pleasure.” She swiveled her chair to her computer screen, only to turn back just before he disappeared completely. “Oh, and Mark? A call from a potential client came in for you today. I gave the details to Stan.”

      “I’ll make sure to ask him about it after the meeting.” He stepped inside the room and took the empty chair indicated by Stan Wiley, board president of the Folks Helping Folks Foundation. An all-around good guy, Stan made volunteering with the organization a pleasant experience. Stan had gotten involved with the foundation for reasons not dissimilar from Mark’s. Regret was a powerful motivator.

      “I certainly appreciate everyone coming in on such short notice for a meeting that wasn’t on your agenda,” Stan began. “But as I told each of you on the phone, it really couldn’t be avoided. Not if we want the foundation to be the recipient of a quarter of a million dollars.”

      A collective gasp rose up around the table.

      Stan laughed. “See? I told you this was a meeting worth having.”

      “Wow. Seriously?”

      “That’s incredible.”

      Mark listened to the sentiments of his fellow volunteers, nodding along with each before adding his own. “That sure is going to open up a lot of possibilities for our clients.”