“The way he did with Richard?”
“He told you about that?”
“Yeah. I can handle him, Becca. I’ll be respectful.”
She sighed and leaned her head on my shoulder. “I hope he reciprocates.”
I had to chuckle. He was Becca’s father. How bad could the man be?
A few hours later, I knew the answer to that question—and it wasn’t positive.
Gerald Holden had already decided to hate me, and he had no issues letting me know. We had stopped and bought some things for him Becca knew he liked. I had added a bottle of his preferred rye, hoping to make a good impression. I failed.
He was a tall man, his once-broad shoulders stooped over his cane. His hair was salt-and-pepper, his eyes the same color blue as Becca’s. It was the only resemblance I could see between them. His expression was dour, except for the smile he had for Becca.
“Dad!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck. “You look good!”
“Ah, Rebecca,” he replied. “You’re just buttering me up.”
“Never,” she teased and stepped back. “Dad, this is Reid Matthews. Reid, this is my dad, Gerald.”
I extended my hand. “Mr. Holden, sir. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He eyed my hand as though it would bite before accepting it. “Reid,” he stated shortly. “I don’t think I’ve heard enough about you.”
“Dad,” Becca murmured with a warning tone in her voice.
“It’s fine, Becca.” I smiled, even though I felt the cool dismissiveness of his greeting. “Your dad and I need to get to know each other.” I held out the bottle of rye. “Becca tells me this is your favorite.”
He took the bottle, lifting one eyebrow. “Booze as a hello? What’s next—you have some weed in your pockets to share?”
“Dad!”
He laughed dryly. “Just teasing the boy, Rebecca. Come in and sit down.”
I followed them into his place. Small and neat, it contained a love seat and chair, plus a little table and kitchen setup. A bedroom and bath were right off the living area. Becca had explained he had his meals in the main dining room and used his kitchen area for snacks.
“He was never much of a cook,” she said. “So he took one of the suites with the meal plan. I don’t have to worry about him eating, and he enjoys the social aspect.”
Becca busied herself putting away the few things she had brought him. He placed the rye on the table and addressed me “Was the trip all right? The drive here okay? I know there is construction on Maple Avenue. Did Rebecca tell you to avoid that?”
I cleared my throat. “The trip was good, Mr. Holden. Becca went around the construction, so the drive over was fast.”
“Becca drove?”
I noticed he didn’t tell me to call him Gerald.
“Yes, sir. I don’t drive.”
“You don’t drive?”
“No, sir, I don’t. In Toronto, I walk or take the subway. Traffic is horrendous, and I never bothered to learn.”
He leaned back, eyeing me speculatively. “Hard to learn in prison, I imagine.”
Somehow, I wasn’t shocked how quickly he brought up my past. I met his cool gaze.
“No, pretty near impossible. I haven’t been in prison for some time, though. But there hasn’t been a need to learn, and I have no intention of buying a car for myself, so I haven’t bothered.”
“You haven’t bothered,” he repeated. “I assume you have no problem letting my daughter play chauffeur.” His tone said it all.
You’re a lazy, good-for-nothing loser.
Becca joined us. “I like to drive, Dad. You know that. Reid’s right—in Toronto, it’s easier to walk or take the subway. That’s why I sold my car. Parking alone would break me,” she informed him, trying to lighten the air. “If I could even find a place to park the car, that is.”
It didn’t work, and things went from bad to worse. Every chance he got, he took a dig at me. He’d ask snide questions about my upbringing. My record. The work I did “playing with computers.” Becca jumped in and defended me every time, but it did no good. By the end of the afternoon, I’d been on the defensive nonstop, and my head ached from being so tense. All I wanted was to go back to the hotel and get away from her father. Luckily, we were having dinner with Richard and his family, so we had an excuse not to be there for the entire evening.
Before we could leave, he shifted in his chair. “Becca, I forgot. I need some cream for my coffee later. Could you run to the shop downstairs and get me a small container? Have them charge it to my account.”
She glanced my way, nervous. I tilted my chin, letting her know I was fine. I knew what was about to happen, and I figured we might as well get it over with.
I wasn’t wrong.
As soon as she was out the door, he turned to me.
“I don’t like your kind, boy.”
“My kind?” I asked, despite knowing exactly what he was saying.
“I checked you out. You stole millions of dollars. You’re nothing but a thief. A liar and a thief. I don’t know how you hoodwinked the people you’re working for, but they’ll figure it out soon enough.”
I remained calm. “Is that right?”
“Yes. I’m sure you’re somehow ripping them off too. They’ll get wise to you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do they know about your background?”
“Every sordid detail.”
That seemed to shock him. I leaned forward, keeping my voice level. “Listen, Mr. Holden, I get it. You don’t think I’m good enough for your daughter. You hate ex-cons. Becca told me your feelings on that subject. But, sir, you’re wrong. I was a kid. I made a stupid mistake, and I paid the price. I learned my lesson.”
“Really.” His retort was dry and filled with contempt. “In my experience, that is rare.”
“Maybe. But for me, it’s true. I have a new life. Good people in it. The best one is your daughter. I love her, and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that or the opportunities I’ve been given.”
He grunted.
“Maybe if you gave me a chance, let me tell you my story, you’d see I wasn’t the lowlife you’ve decided I must be.” I met his baleful glare. “Do you really think your daughter would fall in love with someone as undeserving as you seem to think I am?”
“I think you’ve fooled her and a lot of other people. Leopards don’t change their spots, boy. I’ve seen it too often. It’s only a matter of time before you fall back on your old habits.”
I barked out a laugh, fed up. “Listen to yourself. You sound like some bad TV cop. I’m not a criminal.”
“Your record says different.”
“My record shows I made a mistake, went to prison, served my time, and have lived within the law since then. It doesn’t tell you the why or the person I am now. I have a good job and a future. One which contains your daughter, I might add. I’d wanted us to get along for her sake, but you’re making it difficult.”
“I have no desire to get along with you. You’re a phase. She’ll get over you soon enough, boy.”