Jeff rang the bell at 6:06. I walked him into the dining room.
My Father looked at his watch. "I said six sharp."
"And that was what, from your mouth to God's ears?" asked Jeff.
My Father stood there speechless, stunned. Nobody had ever talked to him like that.
"I didn't get the invitation until after business hours yesterday and, I don't know how you were brought up, but I was taught you never show up for a first visit without something for the hostess."
He lifted his arm, walked toward my mother and handed her a dozen roses.
"Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Fine. Nice to meet you."
He turned to my Father and said, "I was also taught never to act in such a way as to humiliate a guest. I'm sorry if I made the incorrect assumption that you were brought up with manners.
"I'll forget all about this. I don't want any further embarrassment for Ashley or your wife."
He said all of this in a kind, understanding, conciliatory tone.
My Father's face was turning red. I glanced toward my mother. She was fighting a smile.
Dad remained gruff and accusatory.
"Who are you? I was expecting your older brother William."
Jeff got a confused look on his face and shook his head slowly. "I don't have an older brother. Where did you hear that? Ashley, did you tell him I had an older brother?"
"No. I didn't mention a name at all," I said.
"The phone... What about the work he did representing our government in Venezuela, trying to smooth relations?" Dad asked.
"Well, it certainly wasn't my older brother since I don't have one."
Jeff got a quizzical look on his face and sounded almost incredulous at the idea he was about to suggest.
"You didn't snoop into Ashley's phone records, did you? My phone is registered in my first name, William, although I haven't used it for a while. I assure you though, I haven't represented our government in any capacity."
As difficult as it may have been for Jeff to maintain his act, I could barely restrain myself from breaking out laughing.
"But that William Goldberg, the address... How old are you?" asked my Father.
"How old are you?" asked Jeff.
He turned to my Mother and said, "I'd ask you Mrs. Fine, but I know how impolite that would be."
"I'm sorry. You're right," said my Father. I don't recall ever hearing him apologize before. I'm sure it was a ploy.
"It's forgotten," said Jeff. It sounded sincere, with an edge of dismissiveness.
I was awed by the performance. I had expected my Father to destroy Jeff. Instead, he was suffering the death by a thousand cuts. Jeff was late; my Father's fault, and his rudeness to point it out.
Everything Jeff said sounded gracious as he characterized what my Father said as ill-mannered. He caught him on snooping to get information on him, though he surely didn't do it himself.
Jeff apparently planted some stories on the internet to make his "brother" match the name on his phone making my Father look like an idiot talking about a fictitious person. I was sure he wasn't done.
My Mother seized on Jeff's graciousness by saying, "Why don't we sit down to dinner and start again?"
"What a wonderful suggestion," said Jeff.
He walked over to my Father, offered his hand and said, "I'm Jeff Goldberg. Pleased to meet you..." The sound of the "you" was up and elongated. There was no mistaking that he was asking my Father's first name.
Having so thoroughly embarrassed himself, my Father could not fail to shake Jeff's hand. "Ebenezer Fine."
Jeff coughed abruptly, I'm sure, to keep from laughing. He returned to the only empty seat at the table.
