Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
She had been so good at bookkeeping for her father that managing the expenses of a restaurant was a walk in the park for her. She had everything organized into Excel spreadsheets and even had analysis reports. She did them on a daily basis, and I thought that was overkill.
I pulled the laptop toward me and looked through it. “It’s hard to get the full financial picture in just a weekend, but it looks like things are good.”
“Things will slow down after the grand opening.”
“Maybe they won’t.”
“That’s just how it is.”
“You’re awfully pessimistic, even after a grand-slam opening.”
“I’m just trying to be realistic.” She pulled the computer back and closed the lid.
Aldo knocked on my bedroom door. We’d just received our dinner not too long ago, so the plates were nowhere near ready to be collected. He’d hardly given us half an hour. He poked his head inside. “Your father is here to see you.”
I turned to Scarlett, knowing this would drain the blood out of her face. She’d just gotten back to being in a good mood, but now that would be shattered into hundreds of pieces.
“I don’t want to see him,” she said quietly, looking down at her plate.
“I’m sorry, I was unclear.” Aldo looked at me. “I’m referring to your father, sir.”
All of Scarlett’s anger dissolved. Her gaze immediately lifted to me, her eyes wide in surprise.
I continued to stare at Aldo, and I felt my heart stop. Seconds passed, and then I looked at Scarlett, but it was one of the few times when I didn’t actually see her face. It was just a haze. “Did he say what he wants?”
“No, sir.”
“Are you sure it’s him?”
“Absolutely, sir,” he said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, but I would never forget his face.”
Adrenaline. Dread. Terror. I felt no excitement or joy. I was actually a little scared. Not scared that he would hurt me physically, but that he would somehow hurt me more emotionally…if that was even possible at this point. “I’ll be right there.”
When I entered the parlor, I found my father standing in front of the fire, one hand in his pocket, his eyes on the flames inside the hearth like he was mesmerized by their movements. He was still, his back slightly bent because his posture had stooped in recent years. His old watch was still on his right wrist.
I stood there and took him in, my mind unable to believe the truth that my eyes screamed. He was really there, in the flesh, and he didn’t seem to have paperwork for me to sign or a lawyer to bear witness.
If he’d come all the way here and stepped into my house, he must have something important to say. “Hey, Dad.”
The sound of my voice made him whip his head around from the fireplace and look at me. His blue eyes widened in surprise at my appearance, but then they slowly turned guarded with discomfort, like being in the room with me was inherently awkward.
I moved to the armchair and took a seat, while he continued to stand. My elbow propped on the armrest, and my fingertips rested against my lips. My eyes took in the sight of him by the fireplace, but it was still hard to grapple with reality. It was really him, not a ghost. “Take a seat.”
He looked at the armchair across from me and, after a moment of silent deliberation, sat down. He looked at me across the table, eyes on mine for the first time. Normally, he avoided my stare, focused on paperwork in front of him or hiding behind sunglasses. But now, he actually looked at me.
I was desperate for a cigar, something to coat my tongue to make this tension more tolerable, but I would never light up in front of my father, someone who didn’t smoke. A decanter of scotch was sitting there, but I didn’t pour a glass or offer him one.
The silence continued, the crackling from the fireplace the only sound in the quiet room.
He was the one who’d come to me, so I decided to let him speak first—in case I shoved my foot in my mouth.
He gave a sigh, the same sigh I remembered from my childhood, and brought his hands together in his lap. “The man who shot me in the arm…he came by the house. Told your mother and me that he’d threatened to kill us both if you didn’t stay away from his daughter…the woman you are now married to. You ended things with her to keep us alive, even though you were in love with her. We disowned you…but you continued to protect us.”
I felt my breath give me away. I sucked in a deep breath I didn’t know I needed until it happened.
“He took responsibility for everything and asked that we not blame you for his actions. His daughter no longer speaks to him because of the things he’s done…and he doesn’t want that to happen to us.”