“No,” I agreed.
He sighed. “I guess I’m going to have to start dating.”
“You could go stag.” The words were out of my mouth before I thought better of them. The incredulous look he shot me would have been funny had it been someone else. Nothing with my father was every funny. “Or you could totally start dating,” I said.
“I’ll find somebody.” He sighed and hopped off the stool. “Are you ready?”
Since I’d been preparing myself for the big goodbye, his question caught me off guard. “Am I ready for what?”
“Dinner. I made reservations at Palmer’s Steakhouse.”
I flicked my eyes to the clock on the counter. “It’s three o’clock.”
“Yes, and you’re clearly not ready. The reservation is for four.” My father liked to eat early. Six o’clock was for cocktails and nothing more, in his book.
“So, I should get in the shower.”
His expression was bland. “I believe that’s what I said.”
“Give me thirty minutes.”
He flopped back down on the stool. “I’ll be answering emails.”
“Awesome.”
PALMER’S STEAKHOUSE WAS MY FATHER’Sfavorite restaurant at the Landings. He would eat at other places, but invariably, when he visited—which was rare—he wanted a steak.
He’d been a big fan of my choice of residences when I made my decision. He’d been considering moving to the Landings himself but only because he liked how ostentatious it was. That had been a drawback for me. My father, on the other hand, wanted people to know he had money.
I hadn’t gotten rich off my books. I did okay, but over the past two years, there had been a severe dry spell when it came to income. Fortunately, my mother had set up a trust for mebefore her death. She hadn’t been messing around when it came to money. She saw the writing on the wall where my father was concerned.
He planned to leave me a huge inheritance. I never doubted that. He would, however, make me jump through hoops and constantly threaten to revoke it if I didn’t do what he wanted. My mother had gotten ahead of that. I was set for life thanks to her. I wanted to make a living from my writing, but if I couldn’t, I would survive.
My father had reserved one of the best tables in the establishment, which meant we were in the dead center. I would have preferred a table at the edge of all the action, but my father was steering this ship. We had just settled, menus in front of us, when I heard a voice that was vaguely familiar.
“Isn’t that your boyfriend?”
It took me a moment to place the voice, and when I did, my spine stiffened. Slowly, I turned to find Bree tugging on her mother’s arm. Sylvia waved like a maniac, treating me as if we were old friends. Bree looked mortified.
“Yoo-hoo!” she called, beaming at me. “Brady. Hello.”
“Brody,” Bree snapped. She looked like she wanted to find a hole to crawl into and die. “His name is Brody.”
“That’s what I said.” Sylvia marched right up to the side of my table, glanced from my father to me, then took the empty chair between us on the right. “Isn’t this just kismet?” she asked in what could only be described as a charming tone. “I was telling Bree I didn’t get nearly enough time with you. She said you were too busy to come back, but here you are.”
“Here I am,” I agreed dully, uncertain what else I should say. My eyes snapped to my father, worry coursing through me—Rufus Bates did not handle it well when his plans were thrown into turmoil—and found a surprise waiting for me. He was smiling.
What the hell?
“I’m sorry,” Bree said, her gaze locking with mine. “I told her not to bother you but…” She helplessly held out her hands and shrugged.
“It’s okay,” I said automatically. I meant it. I was happy to see Bree again. Our time together had been cut short by her mother’s arrival. “It’s absolutely fine.”
“We’ll just sit here,” Sylvia announced to the confused-looking server who was approaching. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.” The look she sent my father could only be described as demure. It threw me.
“Of course.” My father’s tone was more gracious than I’d heard in years. “That’s fine by me.” He was all smiles when focused on Sylvia. When he switched his gaze to Bree, however, he looked mildly confused. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
His spoke with polite interest, but I knew better. He’d taken one look at Bree, with her patchwork shorts and glittery top, and dismissed her. I didn’t like it.
