"And you can tell me what had you out in this weather. My other two girls are not home yet." He guided her into the large spotless kitchen and nudged her over to the cozy table tucked beneath a large bay window. Helen ran a clean and tidy house and frowned on anyone doing otherwise.
Putting the kettle on, Peter Blake rooted around in the pantry and plucked out a box of ginger and turmeric. "Just the thing."
He found two cups and placed them on the shiny tiled counter.
"Dad..."
"Not yet." He ordered, shaking his salt and pepper head. Sending her his quiet, patient look, he went to get honey. In silence, they waited until the water was boiling. She watched as he poured the piping hot water over into the cups and brought it over to the table.
Heaping honey, he stirred and handed it to her.
"Careful, it's hot."
She had to smile at that. He had been saying the same thing since she was two. An attack of nostalgia hit her and made her weak. Of them sitting in the kitchen. Him drinking tea and she having hot chocolate. He had never condemned her.
When he discovered she was pregnant, he had given her his support without question. He was as solid as a rock, and she loved him endlessly.
"Oh dad." She whispered, the tears finally falling.
Unperturbed, he pushed aside the steaming cups of tea and pulled his chair closer so he could wrap his arms around her. Tipping her head to his shoulders, she emptied herself and just nestled against him. His comfortable scent embraced her, the familiar peppermint and Old Spice he couldn't stop using was an anchor to her. And she found herself pouring everything out.
*****
The last person he wanted to see was his mother. He had the idea of sneaking in and going upstairs to his suite to brood by the fire.
But she had obviously been looking out for him.
"Darling, look at you!" Clucking her tongue, she hurried forward to wrestle the jacket from him and tossed it with no regard for its value, onto a cherry wood entrance table in the long hallway.
Tucking her hand through his, she led him determinedly into her yellow and white salon where she had a glass of wine residing on a sleek oak table in front of the blue and yellow sofa. A cheerful fire was crackling, sending warmth around the room.
"Your father just went upstairs a few minutes ago." She nudged him over to sit by the fire. Without asking, she poured him a glass of brandy and brought it over.
He hesitated, feeling the heaviness in his chest, but the familiar setting and his mother's gentle insistence made it impossible to refuse. The firelight flickered across the room, casting soft shadows, and for a moment he let himself sink into the comfort of home. The aroma of his mother's perfume mingled with the scent of burning wood, both achingly familiar and soothing.
"I missed the meeting." He murmured.
"For good reason, I'm sure." She studied his face and saw what he had been hoping to hide.
"What's wrong?"
Taking a sip of the brandy, he felt it coursing its warmth through him.
"I had a one-night stand five years ago." He felt the shame of admitting something like that to her, for the first time. "I... I met someone at a party and I..." he cleared his throat and felt the burning in his chest. "Mother, I got her pregnant. I just discovered I have a daughter."
His mother's eyes widened, her expression shifting swiftly from surprise to concern. For a moment, she was silent, absorbing the weight of his confession. Then, reaching out, she placed her hand gently on his arm, her voice soft but unwavering.
"Oh, my darling," she said, "when did you discover this?" Her words were neither accusatory nor shocked, only full of compassion and the unmistakable instinct to comfort.
"Just today." Even the memory of how he came to that discovery was enough to make him angry all over again. "She kept it fromme. I hurt her back then and she decided that I had no right to be that little girl's father."
"Are you sure..."
"Without a doubt." Putting his glass down, he pulled out his phone. While Zoe was standing by the table, he had snapped several pictures with his phone. One was of her laughing and jumping up and down. In the background, he had also caught rows of books. "See for yourself." He handed her the phone.
Eloise touched the screen and felt a jolt straight to her heart as she stared at the beautiful child. She wasn't surprised to feel the tears clouding her eyes. It was like looking at Kincaid or Katherine. Except for the difference in the hair texture, the little girl was the spitting image of them.
She was a Tyrell, without question. She had a granddaughter. The magnitude of it had her pressing a hand to her wildly beating heart.
