Picture Perfect

My face lit up when I saw the familiar cherry red convertible Miata in the driveway. Squealing in excitement, I grabbed my things and shut the car door. I sprinted through the hallways of the maze that is my house until I reached a large oak door. I quickly pulled it open and rushed to the mahogany desk, which my father sat behind.

Upon seeing my joy-filled face, he quickly hung up on whatever business partner he was talking to, and ran around the desk with open arms. I jumped into his awaiting arms and took in the scent of his cologne. I wasn’t surprised when I smelt the underlying layer of dusty books. My father always found time to go into antique book stores when he was on business trips.

“Hello, my fair princess, how have you been?” he asked as he squeezed me tighter.

“I’ve been good, Daddy. I missed you terribly, though,” I said into his chest. I was always comfortable wrapped in his arms. I always felt like he could protect me from everything.

“I know, sweetie, I know. I missed you, too.” He loosened his hold on me and I reluctantly backed away. “My, you’ve gotten more beautiful these past two weeks.” I blushed. I never could take a compliment from people I actually enjoy being around. He smiled warmly. “I mean it. Oh, where is my mind? I brought something for you!”

My eyes immediately lit up when he said this. Dad would always bring me some kind of rare book. Last time, it was the original journal which Edgar Allan Poe published “The Raven” in. I salivated slightly in my mouth when I saw him pull out a brown paper-covered rectangle tied in twine. Dad chuckled when he saw my face and teasingly offered it to me. I immediately grabbed the parcel and carefully pulled back its wrapping. I gasped at the cover.

“Is this for real?” I asked as I carefully turned the hard-covered book over. I slowly opened the cover and gazed at the writing inside.

“Would I give you anything else?” He asked with a smile. “That, my dear, is a very rare copy. Only about a hundred left intact. If you open the back cover, you can see where he signed it.”

I quickly, yet carefully, flipped the book over and opened the back binding. Sure enough, Christopher Marlowe’s smudged signature was there. “Oh my god. Where did you find this?”

“It was at the very bottom of a pile of books in the CEO’s mother’s attic. He had no idea what it was or it’s worth. We were talking over a lunch meeting, and my love of old books was brought up. He asked me to come and take a look at his deceased mother’s belongings. This is the only truly noteworthy thing that I found.”

“H-how much is it worth?” I asked shakily as I continued to pour over the pages. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

“Well into the millions.”

I choked and almost dropped the book.

“Hey, now, be careful.”

“So, how did you end up getting it?”

“Well, for one thing I wasn’t drooling over it like you are.”

I shot him a look that clearly said I wasn’t going to laugh at that.

“I casually mentioned that I had a daughter who was in love with Elizabethan literature and he gave it to me. Seemed quite relieved actually…”

“You mean this was given to you? Did you not tell him its worth?”

“Of course not, do I look like an idiot? No, he just assumed that it wasn’t rare and asked me about the others.”

“And?”

Dad shrugged. “They were okay. I told him to donate them to museums or universities with good libraries. You know, a place that would be good at preserving them.”

“Oh.”

“Speaking of pretty pennies, why did you take a good chunk out of my bank account?”

I gave him my big doe eyes that I knew he couldn’t resist. “I got a new horse? He’s amazing. His show name is A Midsommer’s Night Dream, spelt in the old English, and his barn name is Puck.”

Dad’s eyes glittered even more when I mentioned his nickname. “And his disposition?”

“Perfect angel when someone is on him, but a complete trickster on the ground.” I laughed. “He put me into the ocean yesterday…and then he tried protecting me from a few kids at school. It was quite amusing.”

“I must meet him.”

The door burst open. “Dad!” Josh yelled excitedly.

“Josh! How have you been?! Damn, did you grow more?” Dad asked his usual greeting. “Oh! I got you something, too.” He said, moving around his desk once again. Only this time, he pulled out an old guitar. “This once belonged to Kurt Cobain. You’re still a Nirvana fan, right?”

“Um, duh.” Josh replied bluntly as his fingers grazed over the guitar.

“Then it’s yours.”

Josh quickly grabbed it and sat down ontop of the desk. He lightly strummed a few notes before looking up again. “thanks, Dad. I love it. Anna, what did you get?” My brother and I can really only be nice when dad’s around…just because mom drives us completely up the wall and pits us against each other.

I held up my leather –bound book. “Dr. Faustus, one of the first editions, signed by Christopher Marlowe himself.”

Josh rolled his eyes. “Geek.”

“Dweeb.” I called back.

“Children,” dad laughed.

“Joshua Davies DiMarco, do not run out on me like that again!” Mother called as she entered the room. “And how many times do I have to tell you not to come in here? Annaliese, what are you doing in here?”

“Calm down, Catherine, I invited them in,” Dad said, placing a hand on each of our shoulders. He would always run interference and protect us from mother-dearest.

“They still should not be in here, Jonathan. Are you going to get that?” she panicked at the last sentence as she pointed to the ringing phone. Funny, I hadn’t noticed it before.

“No, Catherine, I’m with my family. Whoever it is can wait until morning.”

“Oh, well, dinner is ready.” Mother said defeatedly.

The next few weeks were going to be great. My dad being home meant that I got a little more freedom…which I reveled in!