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To say that Daphne was nervous as she dialed Blake Manor was an understatement; after everything that had happened over the last year between her and her parents, calling up her father to ask to spend time with him on Father’s Day was practically a Herculean task.
The lead-up to it had been awkward as all get-out as Daphne had watched most of the rest of her friends make plans; Velma had taken time off to visit her father, while Fred and his dad, Skip, had headed out on a father-son fishing trip for the entire weekend. Shaggy and Scooby had even temporarily split—Shaggy had headed to Plymouth to be with his father, while Scooby had taken Scrappy to Dooville to reunite with Yabba and Ruby and their parents—and, in an utter rare moment, Ruby had managed to convince Scrappy’s father, Argos, to go to Dooville, as well. The fact that Argos normally hadn’t involved himself much in raising Scrappy had made this a red-letter day for him.
And that left Daphne, having been at odds with her parents since a rather brutal argument a year ago. They had tried to patch things up and things were promising to get better, but Daphne couldn’t help but walk eggshells around them still.
Daphne was jolted from her thoughts now as her old butler answered the phone.
“Blake Manor,” he intoned.
“Hi, Klaus—it’s Daphne.”
“Good to hear from you, Miss Blake.”
“Yes, it’s good to talk to you, too,” she said. “I was wondering if my father is free right now?”
“You’ve caught him just in time—one moment, please.”
Daphne waited patiently until she heard the familiar voice of her father, George Blake.
“Daphne! How are you?”
“Fine, Dad—just fine,” she assured him. “Well… Happy Father’s Day.”
“Thanks, Princess,” George sighed. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah—might be in the process of signing over the company to a successor in the near future—if I can narrow it down to one, of course.” George paused. “I don’t suppose you’d reconsider—”
“No, Dad,” she said, firmly but calmly. “I’m not changing my mind about this—I’ve chosen my career, and though I understand and appreciate that you want me to succeed you as company president, it’s not something that I would be happy in.”
George sighed again.
“Can’t blame me for trying.”
Daphne wanted to refute that, but she knew she had to hold her tongue to keep from losing all the progress they’d made in the last year.
“Look, Dad, the other reason I called was that I wanted to know if you would want to do something with me today—a picnic or a movie or even a round of golf? We could even just sit around and talk.”
“Oh, I would, Princess—really,” George lamented. “But I’ve got such a big backlog of work with this succession thing in the works, and with everyone else out today, this is the perfect chance for me to catch up. Will you take a rain check?”
Like you’re giving me a choice? Daphne silently retorted.
She forced herself to calm down before she spoke again—
“Sure, Dad. Just let me know when you have an idea of when you’ll be free.”
“Sure thing, Daphne. You’re wonderful,” George replied. “Love you, Princess!”
“…I love you, too, Dad,” she managed to say.
The call ended and she struggled to compose herself for a moment—and failed miserably; she let out a frustrated screech into her pillow as she chided herself for daring to believe that this could have been any different than several of the past Father’s Days, many of which had ended with the same result.
Once she’d gotten her immediate frustrations out, she composed herself again and headed out of her room, ending up in the warm and familiar study of Castle Van Ghoul. Flim-Flam, who had no other family to go to, was playing gin rummy with Vincent—and seemingly trying to convince him to play for real money. They’d looked up as she entered the room.
“Ah, there you are,” Vincent said. “Do you need me to teleport you…?” He trailed off upon seeing the look on her face. “…Oh dear.”
“For my father, work comes first—just as always,” Daphne sighed. “But why should I be surprised? Do you have any idea of the number of Father’s Day picnics I’ve missed as a kid because Dad was out of town or too busy? Sure, he’d make it up to me later, but… It’s just not the same.”
She sat down on the couch, prompting Vincent and Flim-Flam to abandon their game and sit with her.
“I truly am sorry, Daphne,” Vincent said. “It is a terrible irony that your father works so hard for his family that he barely seems to have been able to enjoy them—your mother, as well. And that was most unfair to you.”
“It’s awful, isn’t it—seeing other families together and feeling like you’re missing out on that?” Flim-Flam asked.
“It sure is,” Daphne sighed. “When I was a kid, I would’ve given anything to have my parents do some of the things the others’ parents did for them. Mr. and Mrs. Jones were really great singers—I remember Fred used to say that they’d sing him to sleep at nights when he was little. Velma’s parents would read astronomy books with her.” She suppressed a giggle. “And, of course, Shaggy’s parents would read to him and Scooby from their cookbooks, but they loved that. But I didn’t get any of that—I asked Dad once if he could sing to me, and I asked Mom to tell me stories to help me get to sleep.” She looked away. “Their answer was to get the finest white noise maker money could buy, get me a softer bed with warmer blankets, and set up an appointment with a sleep specialist—who, of course, couldn’t find anything wrong with me.”
“Wow, how tone-deaf can you get?”
“Flim-Flam…!” Vincent sighed in exasperation.
“Sorry…”
“It’s alright,” she said. “Looking back, that’s what I was thinking, too. It’s so strange—I had every comfort, every luxury I could’ve ever wanted, and yet… I feel like I missed out on a lot of important things.”
“That’s because you did,” Vincent pointed out. “It wasn’t intentional, but you truly were robbed of certain experiences that you needed.”
Daphne glanced at Vincent, and those old wishes that had been at the forefront of her mind during the rougher spots with her parents returned—that Vincent could’ve been the one to raise her, to tell her stories and songs when she was growing up, and always having the time to be there for her when she’d needed it.
“Do you ever wonder,” she blurted out. “How different things could’ve been sometimes? If in another time and another place, things could’ve been… better?”
Vincent arched an eyebrow, realizing exactly where she was going with this as she now glanced at the Time Scepter resting on some brackets on the wall.
“I know it must be sorely tempting to change your past—especially once you’ve realized just how much you missed. And, for my part, I would have considered it a most precious honor to have been the one to raise you. But all of us are who we are today because of every single thing we experienced in our lives—the good and the bad. You saw that yourself when you accidentally brought my younger self from the past with the Time Scepter—I had to first experience life as that hotheaded, vainglorious egotist before realizing the consequences of my actions and learning to be humbler and more careful with my powers. Changing your past will change everything about you, and that includes your ties with the rest of the gang—and there’s no way of knowing whether for good or ill. Do you truly wish to risk that?”
“No,” she admitted. “I guess I appreciate you as a supportive parental figure because I really needed one.”
“I’m sure it’s for the best, Daphne,” Flim-Flam said. “Believe me, it’s a good thing you didn’t have to deal with all the homework Vince gives you for homeschooling.” He gave a guilty grin as Vincent looked his way. “And I mean that in the best possible way!”
Daphne managed a laugh at that.
“What Flim-Flam is trying to say is that things have a way of working out on their own. We value the familial ties we’ve forged with each other because of what we’ve been through,” Vincent continued. “And we’ve seen that those ties are reservoirs of very powerful magic. It may have taken us time to find each other, but now, those ties cannot break.”
“Thanks, Vincent,” she said, after a moment. “You always know the perfect thing to say.”
“I try.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out a wrapped box of chocolates.
“I had these imported from Switzerland—they’re my favorite.” She gave an amused giggle. “Getting them here was easier than trying to hide them from Shaggy. I was going to give these to my dad, but… You deserve these more than he does.” She handed the box to him with a smile. “Happy Father’s Day.”
It was a very rare occurrence that Vincent found himself at a loss for words, but, in that moment, he couldn’t find anything to say.
“Happy Father’s Day from me, too, Vince!” Flim-Flam grinned. “You’re the best!”
“Thank you both,” he finally said. “Now, then, Daphne, would you like to sit in on this gin game? It might make things interesting, giving Flim-Flam an additional factor to deal with.”
“Bring it,” the boy grinned.
And Daphne just grinned back.
“You’re on.”
They headed back to the table, with Daphne ever grateful for the family she had found along the way.