Chapter 18
Benson
“Yes, peach, I will be there. Seven sharp. I promise.” Benson walked through the parking garage, where reception was spotty at best. But as long as he kept close to the walls separating him from the sharp, winter air outside, he could vaguely make out his daughter’s voice. “I got you something on my trip. I think you’ll like it.”
Drew expressed that she’d believe his presence when she saw it later that evening. After all, it was Thursday. Then again, that sounded like the only day of the week her dadwouldhave time for her.We’re back to this again.Drew said it with a knowing tone to her voice that suggested she wasn’t that put off by it anymore, but it always hit Benson right in the guilty heart.
But she was the first person he called when he got home Monday, and they agreed to meet for dinner that week, just the two of them. Drew said she had decided on her college major and wanted him to be the first she told, even before her mother.Must mean it’s something I’ll like.Finance? Business? Law or med school?Be still, my beating dad’s heart.Anything that let his daughter become financially independent and not rely on anyone else! Exactly what he wanted for her!
He called her on his way back from lunch, during which he ran errands instead of eating, because he had made dinner reservations at their favorite Brazilian steakhouse. He also needed to know if he should send a car for her. Also, did she need any groceries? Medications? She could ask for anything.Anything.This was the man who had awkwardly stood outside the gynecologist’s office because his teenage daughter was too shy to go to her uptight mother for birth control.
There was a fine line between being too “cool” a dad and an ass. Benson liked to think he had found it, especially as his daughter grew up and became more confident and opinionated in her own way. As much as he hated to admit it, he found her easier to care for as an adult than when she had been a small child.I just don’t get children…Oh, he knew all about the provider part of the bill, and knew when to show up to recitals and when to snap photos. But he had been more enamored with Drew as she grew older and could talk to him about what she learned at school that day. Never mind her thoughts on philosophy and anthropology classes at school…
Hm. Maybe she was majoring in anthropology. That would be something.
“I’ll see you at seven,” Drew said before her father entered the elevator and had to hang up. “Be there, Dad.”
“I gave you my word, didn’t I?” The call dropped before he finished his thought. The best he could do was punch in the rest of his meaning into their ancient chat window on the ride up to the top-floor office, where he was one-third of Lark, Perkins, and Smith.Just call us LPS.Everyone else did.
“Thanks. See you later. Love you.”That was the response he read when he made it to the receptionist’s desk.
“Hey.” He put his phone back in his pocket as he addressed Sharon, the middle-aged receptionist who still had 20/20 vision and a penchant for scolding all three thirds of the firm in her own special way. For Benson, it was heckling him about his dumpster fire of a personal life.And I let her.Deep down, he kinda liked it. Sharon was just older than him enough to represent the girl who had been his super cool young aunt when he was a kid.The one you let get away with roasting you like a chuck steak.“Any news? I’m back from lunch.”
Sharon peered up from her desk-sized calendar she kept updated with everyone’s appointments. “As it so happens, I squeezed in a 1:30 for you. Someone with a Level C investment is claiming their free consultation today. Also…” She looked around before leaning toward him. “Liam Ashe called while you were out. He wants to know if you could chat with him this week.”
Out of everything that could make Benson’s stomachdrop,it was the mention of Liam Ashe. “You’re kidding,” he responded, hiding how pale his cheeks now were.
“Nope.” Sharon tapped a whiteboard marker against the calendar beneath her arms. “Haven’t heard that name in a few years…”
“Because there’s nothing for us to talk about.” On that note, Benson carried his things away from the receptionist’s desk. “If he calls again, firmly inform him that there’s nothing to say. I’d prefer it to stay that way.”
“Yes, sir.” Even when Sharon said that, she still sounded cheekier than was probably professional. “I’ll let you know when your 1:30 is here.”
“Do that, please.”
Benson entered his office and plopped down at his desk, head hitting the top of his chair as he spun around and stared at the foggy city skyline. There had been a light snow when he returned from the Caribbean, but now, most of it was gone, and the weather oscillated between foggy and rainy.I hate this time of year.When winter had overstayed its welcome and it was still dark at six in the evening. While Benson wasn’t exactly a “summer boy,” as his daughter had once talked about much to his irate confusion, he hated the latter months of winter. At least the earlier months carried some novelty and the festive holiday period.
Spring was still a month away, though. It couldn’t come too soon.
What should have been a few minutes of decompressing from lunch and turning his brain back toward work was instead infiltrated by the knowledge thatLiam Ashehad called. For the first time in over four years, that man, of all people, was contacting Benson at work.
He used to go to La Mariposa, too…Thankfully, he hadn’t seen Liam there, much to Benson’s relief. It had been one of the reasons he preferred a cottage over a hotel room. At least in his own house by the beach, it was easier to avoid certain people.
The bad blood between him and Liam was… well, Benson preferred not to dwell on it.How old is he now? Thirty-five?God, why was he thinking about it?
Whatever. He had an upcoming appointment that hadn’t been there when he went off to lunch. Benson knew next to nothing about the woman whose information popped up on his digital calendar. Just her age and address. Oh, and her name. But Eden Hailstone didn’t say anything. Benson didn’t know of any Hailstones in the area.
Sharon had classified her as a “Level C” when uploading whatever documents Eden had submitted via the online portal.That meant she had liquid funds of about a hundred thousand dollars and nothing more. While that wasn’t the minimum Benson’s firm took on, it was far from their bread and butter.How did she even hear of us?Benson would have to ask. But first, he had to print off the documents she had submitted. Only when he had them in front of him on his desk would he have a better picture of what he was working with – let alone advising.
“Mr. Smith?” came Sharon’s voice over the intercom the moment Benson fired up the printer in the corner of his office, “Your 1:30 is here. Shall I send her in?”
“Sure!” he called loudly enough for her to hear.
His back was turned toward the door, his desk chair blocking his view, when he heard his office door open and someone enter.
“I’ll be right with you, Ms. Hailstone.” Benson licked his fingers while plucking the hot papers off the press. “Just getting your information so we can go over it together. Have a seat.”
One of the other chairs squeaked a little when it moved over the plastic protective pad separating the furniture from the carpet. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”
