Was it easy for her to leave because she saw my true colors? I’m afraid of the world knowing my secrets. And what does it say about me to have modeled myself and my character after my grandfather, who wasn’t Superman? He was greedy and deceitful, and Pippa has rules about all kinds of things, probably including quality of character.
It had been easier for me not to think about it, but my father won’t let me forget, holding the documents over my head like a pile of bricks.
More importantly, how will I get Marlow out of the picture?
But when have I ever let anything stop me before? I’m a lion and roar into battle. As if gaining one inch at a time on the field, my resolve slowly returns. I have to get Pippa back. But will she take me? I don’t have my coach, the team, or a playbook, but I have to make things right.
She suggested I check my email, but it’s just some forwarded messages. I’m not in the mood for memes, laughs, or political satire. Then I see the sender’s address: [email protected]
I open it and find exchanges between Marlow and my father. A lot of them.
Red, hot, angry blood pounds through my veins as I read letter after letter, moving backward in time until I get to the firstthat Marlow sent—dated earlier this month, right after the soiree at the Smythe’s. It says:
I know what you did. I know what you want. Arrange for me to marry your son and I won’t say a word...and you can have half. Deny me this and I will make your life miserable.
As the inky night gathers around me, I read and then reread the emails, trying to understand. Did Marlow blackmail my father? What does she know? I want to confront him, but our tempers are too high. One of us might go through a window and I already broke one today.
I go downstairs to get some fresh air and think, desperate to recall anything that my father might have done that would warrant an email like that. Nerves zip through me.
Passing through the kitchen, the faint blueish glow of a cell phone comes from the center island. At first, I dread that it’s Marlow, sharing my family drama with the world, but the figure is smaller, her hair shorter.
“Mom?” I ask.
She looks up, her eyes are wide as though she’s been caught awake past her bedtime. “I just needed a little snack. And a cute farm animal video escape from reality—I miss my parents’ farm in Iowa. I could go for a cinnamon roll and chili. Are you okay?” She steps closer and pats my cheek. “No, of course, you’re not. Your father has been a real bear lately.”
“Lately? How about my whole life?”
“Let’s sit outside. It’s a nice night. Maybe I can explain something about him. I probably should have done so a long time ago.”
The sky is dark, dull as we sit down in a pair of Adirondack chairs on the deck.
My mom takes a deep breath. “Your father’s business is in trouble and I’m very worried about the effect it’s having on hisblood pressure. There have been financial problems with the corporation, which has slowly slid toward bankruptcy.”
“Has he seen a doctor?”
Mom shakes her head. “I’ve been very careful not to upset him lately, but you know how he is. Anyway, that isn’t exactly what I want to share. You know, probably better than me, that Cap, your grandfather, was larger than life. The kind of man with a personality that could fill an entire room.”
“More like a whole stadium.”
Mom laughs lightly. “True. Your father was always in his shadow. Unfortunately, football came first—when he was on the team, when he coached, and when he owned the team. Your father was envious. In a way, I don’t think he wanted to lose you to the game. That’s why he tried to keep you from it.”
“By being harsh and distant?” I ask, recalling that my father was never very affectionate or present.
“In many ways, Rhett is like Cap, but instead of football, he put his focus on finance.”
“But I got the football bug.”
“You sure did. I think it’s in the Collins’ genes.” She lowers her voice. “He’ll never admit this, but Rhett loves football too.”
I chuckle like I would at a cheesy Dad joke. “I don’t believe you.”
She sighs. “Well, you know what I don’t believe. I don’t believe Rhett wants you to marry Marlow. I don’t get it.”
“Me neither. Except, I got an email.”
“A sonnet? A foolish prank? You and I both know Marlow put self-tanner in poor Pippa’s moisturizer.”
