"And," Cynthia said, with much fanfare, "announcement number two-I have a job!"
They clapped in unison and congratulated her. "I won't finish with school until the fall but a clinic has hired me. It doesn't pay much, but it's a start. Until I'm certified, I'll do clerical jobs and help out. Hopefully, they'll use me as a full-time therapist later. The clinic understands my school hours and they are willing to work around them. I'm thrilled to death!" Dean grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "This is the start of my new life, and I wanted to share it." She looked Dean in the eye. "I didn't know how else to thank you."
Cynthia looked a bit misty-eyed as she rose and began picking up the dishes and turned to her son. "I know it's been less than a month since your father died," she said, "and it's been tough. But if I don't get on with my life I'll lose my mind. I know your dad would approve." She gave him a hug. Randy just smiled in a way that said he understood.
The four sat in the living room with everyone but Dean discussing their future. Jen, the valedictorian of her class, was to attend Ryder College in New Jersey and major in English Literature. Randy, a science buff, was in the top third of the graduates and was also his class president. Dean, while feeling exceptionally stupid, enjoyed himself in spite of it.
Shortly after nine, Randy rose to take Jen home. The two planned an outing the next day at the Jersey shore and wanted to get an early start. Although Dean wouldn't have minded staying, he too rose to leave. Cynthia did not stop him.
"Why don't you two go biking tomorrow?" Randy suggested as he was leaving. "I fixed the flat on Mom's bike." It seemed to Dean it was the young man's way of telling his mother that he was comfortable with her allowing Dean to peek into the corners of their life.
"I'm sure Mr. Dean doesn't want to wait up for an out-of-shape old lady lagging behind him." Dean noticed she hadn't dismissed the suggestion entirely. "He'd leave me in the dust," she added, but after some joking, agreed to let Dean pick her up at ten the next morning. He sang to himself at the top of his voice all the way home to Collingswood Avenue.
When Dean pulled into his drive he was surprised to see the lights on, as he'd expected Fred to be out for the evening. He should have guessed something was up-the old man wasn't even playing his twangy music.