14
GRAY
I got caught in traffic on the Delaware Memorial Bridge, some semi jackknifed and brought the highway to a standstill, so I had to meet Emory, Christy and Paul at the restaurant. I’d spent the extra two hours in the car thinking about Casale’s hold on my dad and the reason for the dinner.
Mr. Casale himself met me by the hostess stand. I shook his hand and he clapped me on the shoulder. “I trust you had a good visit with your father?”
“I didn’t realize you two were friends,” I countered. I was eager to get to Emory so it was difficult to chat it up. But, he was concerned for her and so I owed him respect.
He offered a small shrug. Very Italian. “Friends? Absolutely not. We have…an understanding. While he will still be your father, I am sure he will not offer you too much addit
