Richard Steele called just after five.
Alex had been halfway through changing his shirt, one sleeve still hanging loose, tie abandoned on the chair like a bad decision. He looked at the phone when it rang, already knowing who it was. His father never called to ask how his day had been.
He answered anyway.
"Dad."
"You're coming over," Richard said, not bothering with greetings. His voice had that clipped steadiness that meant the decision had already been made. "The Vances are coming for dinner. Congratulatory meal."
Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tonight?"
"Yes, tonight."
"I had other plans."
There was a pause, just long enough to make Alex hopeful.
"No excuses, Alex," Richard said. "They'll be here by six. Try not to be late."
The line went dead.
