“Dad?”
“We’re at work, Evie.”
“I know, but—” Yes, she should probably wait, but she couldn’t. Not after what she’d seen. Part of her knew she shouldn’t be asking, but another part of her had to. “You know her, don’t you?”
“Know who?”
“The boss. Alexandra.”
He didn’t respond. The family rounded the corner and headed the cycle path that wound its way cross-country and then down to the coast. Another couple of minutes and finally they were out of sight.
Only then did he turn to look at her. “What makes you think I know her?”
“Oh, come on, Dad! I was there. I saw the two of you. You have oil on your fingers, by the way.”
“I had to fix the chain.” He pulled a cloth from his pocket and scrubbed at the oil on his fingers. “What do you think you saw?”
She thought about that look. That single burning look that had lasted less than a couple of seconds but communicated a depth of emotion and intimacy that had made her catch her breath. She’d felt as if she was watching something she shouldn’t be watching. As if she was somehow intruding. “I saw the way you looked at each other. I’m not imagining it, but if you don’t want to tell me then I’ll respect that. But—” She sighed. “I’m being selfish, I know, making this about me. What about you? I assume you weren’t expecting to see her?”
He scrubbed at a stubborn oil stain. “No,” he said finally. “I wasn’t.”
He was shaken, she could see that now. And she was shaken too, because this was her dad and she’d naïvely thought she knew everything there was to know about him. She’d thoughtthey had no secrets (although now she thought about it she was keeping a fair few herself). And now she was seeing him differently. Not as her dad, but as a man with a past and a life lived. A past full of details of which she knew nothing. A man with his own life and his own secrets.
“I didn’t know you knew her. You never said anything.”
She stepped closer and touched his arm, conscious that although there was no one close by, they were still in public, still at work.
And it wasn’t only intimacy she’d seen, it was protectiveness. Of course her dad was a born protector, but this was something different.
“You care about her.”
“I owe her a lot.”
“Owe her? How?”
He folded the cloth he’d been using. “Things were tough when you were born. I was struggling to cope with the shocking loss of your mother, and I had to care for a newborn. That included earning a living. I had to be everything, and I couldn’t see a way to do that. You’d lost your mother and I wanted to be there for you, but the teaching job I was doing didn’t allow for that.”
“And that’s when you took a job at the hotel.” She knew that part of the story. He’d told her many times that it had been the best move he’d ever made.
“I’ve always made it sound easy, haven’t I? As if switching was simply a matter of stepping off one path and onto another.” He gave a wry smile. “It was a little more complicated than that. I was a mess—not exactly the type of reliable worker people were queuing up to hire. I wanted to be a good father—and I knew that’s what Phoebe would have wanted. She was excited about being a mother and the fact that she never managed to do that—” He paused. “I had to work, but I wanted somethingflexible that would let me fit around your needs. It—I was struggling.”
He’d never talked about this part of his life. He’d never talked about how he’d coped. He brushed over it, told her she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, that having her to care for had helped him heal. And it was true, but now for the first time she was seeing the true hardship of that time. The struggle. And she felt ashamed that she hadn’t asked him more about it. Encouraged him to talk. He’d always seemed capable and in control. Even though she’d known he was devastated by the loss of the woman he’d loved, she’d never pictured him struggling.
“It must have been hard,” she murmured, knowing that was an understatement. “How did you manage? Who helped?”
“Plenty of people helped, but no one was able to help with the employment side of things. No one would hire me. Or at least, not under terms I could live with. And then I tried the hotel. Alexandra had been there for a couple of years by then. I had to take you to the interview because at that stage I wasn’t ready to leave you with anyone.”
“I was at your interview?”
“Yes, and there was a great deal riding on that interview—I was desperate and ready to do anything. Afterwards, I told myself that was probably why.”
“Why what?”
“Why I embarrassed myself. I intended to go in there and impress her with my knowledge of local history and legend. I intended to show her I was confident and personable and exactly the person she was looking for to deal with the needs of the guests. Instead of which—” he ran his hand over the back of his neck “—all these years later it still embarrasses me to remember it.”
“Remember what?”
“I cried.” He let his hand drop. “And I don’t mean slightly watering eyes. I sobbed.”
