“Sure, old man. See ya later.” Drew waved over his shoulder from where his head was buried under the hood of his current project.
Chapter 11
Today is the day I’ve been waiting for all my life. I’m going to meet my father for the first time. Sandy has been planning this trip for weeks and has gone out of his way to make it convenient and comfortable for me. I’m grateful it didn’t happen sooner, giving my face adequate time to heal. I haven’t told him about the attack on me, as I didn’t want something so horrible to be the focus of our first meeting. He booked a suite at the Langham, a five-star hotel near the Magnificent Mile and my store. The luxurious property is on North Wabash Avenue and has breathtaking views of the Chicago skyline and the river. I took Mama there for tea one Christmas, and it was absolutely beautiful. Even though it’s spring now, it’s still chilly in Chicago and I warned Sandy to dress accordingly. I’m fussing over him already, just as I imagine a daughter would do. He arrived last night to get settled in, and our plan is to meet this morning for Sunday brunch. I haven’t been to church since before Mama died, so I assured him he wasn’t keeping me from going. He’s having the brunch catered in his suite so we can talk in private and get to know each other better for our first in-person meeting. I’m grateful we’re meeting early in the day because I haven’t been able to get over my fear of being out after dark.
Those pesky butterflies are back, but they’re fluttering with excitement, not fear. We’ve been talking by phone and texting frequently, and I’m so ready to take this giant step toward my future.
What does one wear when meeting her father for the first time ever? The typical answer to that question is nothing, of course, since it’s at birth, but that won’t do at my age. In this instance, I feel like it’s a cross between a first date and a job interview, and I know I want to dress to impress. After combing through every single thing in my closet, I settle on black, designer, skinny jeans and a long tunic with bare shoulders. I accessorize with lots of chunky sterling silver jewelry. Browsing my extensive boot collection, I settle on some black suede booties with a pencil thin heel. I complete my look with my black leather, Coach bucket purse. I’ve left my jet-black hair down in some bouncy curls. I take one last look in my wardrobe mirror, then grab my coat, keys, and phone, and head out the door after setting the alarm system. I have no qualms about driving to the hotel since I can valet park, so I start up my Mercedes and head toward downtown. I wanted to bring Sandy a welcome gift, so, earlier, I picked up two items that represent the taste of Chicago: Frango chocolate and Garrett’s gourmet popcorn. As I get closer to the hotel, I will my nerves to calm and rehearse what I’m going to say when we meet face-to-face.
After handing my keys to the valet, I enter the grand entrance of the Langham. The marble floors and crystal chandeliers are gleaming and send twinkles of light all over the cathedral ceilings and high glass windows. Adding to the elegant ambience is the sound of a harp playing in the expansive lobby. I approach the concierge desk and provide my name as Sandy instructed.
“Welcome to the Langham, Ms. Jones. Mr. Patrick is expecting you. I’ll be escorting you up to his suite.”
My anticipation mounts as we step toward what appears to be a private elevator. The ringing in my ears and the fluttering in my stomach drown out the clicking of our heels on the marble floor. The concierge inserts a key card in a slot inside the elevator and presses the button for the suite level. When we reach our destination, the doors glide open to a luxurious hallway. She presses another button to hold the doors open for me.
“Mr. Patrick’s suite is straight ahead at the end of the hall. Just ring the bell to let him know you’ve arrived. Enjoy your visit.”
I step out of the elevator and the doors close. Before I go any further, I set my bags down and remove a tissue from my purse to wipe my sweaty palms. I pick my things back up, take a calming breath, and head for the door. When I reach the entrance, I take another deep breath and press the doorbell before I lose my nerve completely. Almost immediately, the door opens, and I look up into clear, blue eyes just like mine. I smile and hold out my hand. He smiles too, but doesn’t reach for my hand. Instead, he envelopes me in a bear hug. Amazingly, I don’t feel fear at the aggressive action, but instead, calm ... safe. After a few moments, he steps back and looks me over from head to toe, as if to memorize my features. The butterflies and the ringing in my ears have subsided. I’m looking at him too, drinking in his appearance as if I’m dying of thirst, confirming my impressions after scrutinizing his photo constantly over the last few weeks. We start laughing simultaneously, and both have tears of happiness streaming down our cheeks.
He finally speaks. “Forgive me for leaving you standing in the doorway. Come in and let me take your coat.”
I cross the threshold and am immediately bombarded by the intoxicating smells of the brunch food set out buffet style. After Sandy puts my coat away, he turns to me.
“I hope you’re hungry. I didn’t know what you like so I ordered some of everything. And we have the makings for Bloody Marys and mimosas, whichever you prefer.”
“I’d love a mimosa.”
“Comin’ right up. Help yourself to the buffet and we’ll chat after we fix our plates.”
After hours of talking, laughing, and expressing a few more tears, I realize it’s growing dark outside. I try to figure out how to explain to Sandy I need to leave without appearing to be weak or afraid. He must sense my discomfort, and the fact I haven’t responded to his latest question has just given me away. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Never mind. Where did you go just now? Are you tired of spending time with your old man already?”
I try to force some levity in my tone, but my laughter sounds fake even to my own ears. “Not a chance. I’ve looked forward to this day for weeks and it’s everything I imagined it would be.”
“I can tell something’s bothering you. Care to share it with me? Maybe I can help.” Propping one ankle on the opposite knee, he tries to appear casual, but I can see he’s anxious, and I sense he wants to be there for me in whatever way I might need.
I pick a spot on the wall across from me to look at, to avoid his piercing blue eyes, so much like my own. “I, uh, didn’t realize it had gotten so late. I think I need to be getting home.”
Sandy appears hurt as he says, “Of course. I didn’t mean to monopolize all your time. You must be busy and need to prepare for work tomorrow.”
“It’s not that…It’s just…I need to tell you something. I was attacked … robbed and beaten about the time I found out about you. Ever since, I’ve been leery of being out after dark or in confined spaces. It happened in the parking garage near my store. I’m really embarrassed I’m now so fearful of everything, especially strange men. I’ve never been that way before. I pride myself on being independent, and I’m used to being alone, being an only child and all.”
Sandy comes over to me and stoops down to my level, then wraps me in his arms, resting his chin on top of my hair. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I wish I could have been here then to comfort you. And protect you. I don’t want you to be afraid. I’ll do anything to keep you safe. You’re my daughter, and that’s what fathers do.”
The tears begin to flow forcefully. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m weak.”
“Honey, from what I’ve seen and heard since finding out about you, you are one of the strongest women I know. And you’re a Patrick; we’re fighters. So, what would you like to do? I can take you home, or you’re welcome to stay here with me tonight. There’s plenty of room in the suite for both of us. Then we can plan the rest of my visit.”
“Well, I didn’t bring any clothes or toiletries with me, so I guess I’ll need to go home.”
“Don’t you worry about that. If you’d like to stay here, I’ll have the concierge get whatever you need.”
I pull back and look at him tentatively. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, honey. Let me take care of you.”
My tension dissipates and I let out a sigh of relief. I’m not used to this, but it feels good. “Okay. I’d love to stay here with you.”
