“Don’t call her that!” I hissed into the phone.
“Well, that’s what she is.”
“Whatever. You just check out those places I sent you last week,” I grumbled and hung up the phone. A second later there was a knock on my closed office door. “Come in,” I called out.
My door pushed open and in stepped Liza and behind her, Marjorie. My father’s wife of the past year-and-a-half. I took in her five-foot-six stature, made taller by her four-inch heels. Her white pantsuit looked crisp against her warm, honey-toned skin. Her straight brown hair stopped at her shoulders in a bob, similar to how I wore my hair. Her sharp gaze pinpointed on me as I sat behind my desk. Although she was in her mid-fifties, anyone would be able to tell this was a woman who kept herself up. I pulled my lips up into what I hoped looked like a pleasant smile.
“Thank you, Liza. Marjorie, please have a seat,” I offered as Liza made her exit. I closed the plastic container of the salad I’d been eating before Gabby had called and threw it in the wastebasket under my desk before. “What can I do for you?” I asked Marjorie.
She smiled, and I thought, not for the first time, how beautiful she was. My father sure knew how to choose his women. What I found most surprising about Marjorie wasn’t her beauty, but the fact that she was a career woman. She was a partner at one of the top engineering firms in the city. She was a far cry from the stay-at-home wife my mother had been, or the one my father had tried to raise me to be. Which also made me curious as to why she was in my office in the middle of the day on a Tuesday afternoon. Our firms were nowhere near each other.
“Chanel, I apologize for just popping in on you like this, but I just had a lunch meeting with a client nearby and wanted to stop by and say hello.”
I raised my eyebrow, remaining silent. Marjorie laughed at my expression. She knew I knew what she’d just said was bullshit.
“Okay, okay. The lunch part is true, although it was nowhere near here,” Marjorie laughed, which caused me to smile. The woman was nothing if not charming, although I still didn’t know her very well. “Truth is, I’ve wanted to speak to you for a while now. It’s been months since you moved to Houston, but you rarely come by the house or call.”
Now I was seriously confused. To be honest, there wasn’t much reason for me to call or stop by the house. I just didn’t have that type of relationship with her or my father.
“I mean, Jason’s over at least twice a week with Tori and the kids. Which is crazy considering your father and brother already see each other every day at work.”
“Well, they’ve always been close,” I shrugged, swallowing down the resentment that began to build in my stomach.
“I know, and you were out living in L.A., which is why I assumed we didn’t see you all that much, but now you’re back, and I know your father would like to see you more often.”
I unwittingly scoffed at that. “Marjorie, I’m not sure what gave you that impression, but if he wanted to see me more, he has my number. As for Jason, I was just over his place this weekend spending time with Tori and the kids.”
“She told me, and that’s why I wanted to invite you over this Friday evening. I’d like to try and get everyone together one Friday a month for dinner and family time.”
“Marjorie, I don’t know,” I began, shaking my head. “Look,” I sighed, figuring I’d be upfront. “If your invitation has anything to do with trying to get in my father’s good graces or something, you can give that a rest. He already married you and doesn’t really care too much for what I do, so…” I shrugged.
Marjorie’s face contorted into shock at my words, and then her brows cast downward in what appeared to be an honest indication of sadness. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so straightforward, but hell, the truth was the truth. She wasn’t about to gain any Brownie points from my father or me by inviting me to dinner.
“That makes me sad to hear you believe that.”
“That Ibelievethat? It’s not what I believe; it’s what’s true.”
“Listen.” She moved forward in the chair, placing her clasped hands on the edge of my desk imploringly. “I know there’s been some rift between you and your father for a while now. Long before I came into the picture, but I know he wants to change that.”
“Marjorie. My father is one of the top attorneys in the state— hell, the country. He has no problem expressing himself anywhere at any time. If he wanted us to be closer, he’d open his mouth and say so, or make some effort. He hasn’t, and that’s fine with me. I didn’t move back to Houston to be closer to him. I moved back because Houston is home. I don’t think—”
“Okay,” she held up her hands, surrendering, “I won’t try to convince you of your father’s intentions. But I’d still like you to come Friday evening.”
I had no idea why this woman was so insistent, but I finally relented. “Sure, I’ll be there. What time?”
“Dinner is served at seven, but we’re having drinks and hors d’oeuvres at six-thirty,” she grinned.
“All right, six-thirty it is. I’ll see you then.”
“Great, see you then. Enjoy the rest of your week,” Marjorie said as she stood up with the grace of a woman who knew who she was.
Once she was gone, I went over the conversation in my head, asking myself if what she said was true. Could my father want a closer relationship with me? Then I thought about the fact that I’d been back in Houston for six months and had only seen him a handful of times, and dismissed her words. What I said had been true; my father had built one of the most well-respected law firms in the state. He had been practicing for more than thirty years, and I knew there wasn’t anything he didn’t want that he didn’t get. So, for Marjorie to think he’d wanted some better daughter-father relationship, but just hadn’t taken the time to act on it, was beyond me. But it also wasn’t my problem right now either.
Peering at the clock on my office phone, I noted I had about ten minutes before a scheduled meeting with a new client. I spent the next few minutes getting out my client file and gathering the information Liza had provided me on the client. So far, I knew Michele Wyatt was in her mid-thirties with two children under the age of five, and she wanted a divorce. When I turned the page to see who her husband was, I closed my eyes, inhaling. This case was going to be a long one.
“Ms. Richards, your two o’clock is here,” Liza chimed on the intercom.
“Send her in.”
