“Costume? You mean a dress? It’s not a costume party.”
I sighed. “Give me a break. Do you have a dress?”
She grinned. “I wondered if you wanted some company in the city this week? You know, we could go shopping maybe?”
“In Manhattan?” I wasn’t sure I was qualified to take her shopping for a dance. I had no idea what would be appropriate. I didn’t like Amanda in the city, and I tried to discourage her attempts to visit me when I was at the Manhattan apartment. New York was no place for a kid. There were far too many bad influences.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Don’t you like the shops around here?”
“I want something no one else will have.” Something in my expression must have caught her eye. “Just because I’m fourteen doesn’t mean finding the perfect dress isn’t important, if that’s what you’re thinking. Perhaps if you ever dated, you’d get it.”
Here we go. One crisis situation always overlapped with another. Amanda was always nagging me about getting a girlfriend. Or a wife. Women were exhausting. Work was easier. Or it was before Harper started.
“I want you to look pretty. Of course I understand that. I have plenty of women in my life.” With two sisters, a daughter, and Pandora, there was no lack of estrogen in my world.
“You always think about it in such a selfish way.” Amanda sighed and slipped off the stool. She began to gather plates and cutlery. Helping out in the kitchen without being asked—that was new. I was getting constant reminders about how much she was growing up, and although I was proud, it felt as if we were hurtling downhill with the brakes off. I wanted to pause for a second, enjoy the here and now for a couple of years.
“I’m being selfish by not dating?” I asked, flipping the pancakes over.
“Totally. You know how much I’ve always wanted a sister. Mom’s been married to Jason for forever and they’ve completely ignored me, so it’s up to you. I don’t understand what you’re waiting for. Don’t you want to get married?”
“Hey, wait. A minute ago you were talking about you dating and now, not only do I have to date, but I have to marry a woman and get her pregnant?” She must have been talking to my sisters. They were always pestering me to date, trying to set me up with their friends. The fact was I didn’t need help getting women. But neither Amanda nor my sisters had to hear about my sex life.
She laughed. “Don’t you ever think about it? We’re here in the big house, just the two of us, and I’ll be in college soon.”
“Are you trying to kill me today? You have a couple of years before you leave for college.” She was right; college was really just around the corner. Of course I wanted her to go, but maybe she could still live at home. I wasn’t ready to give her up entirely.
“I think it would be nice for you to have someone. And if I got a baby sister out of it? Well, then that would be even better.” She placed the plates on the breakfast bar and set the cutlery on either side.
“What’s brought this on? I haven’t had this particular lecture from you for a while, peanut.” Had this just been my sisters’ influence, or did she miss Pandora? I dished up pancakes and turned off the stove. Was I not enough for her?
She shrugged. “Dunno. Samantha’s mom was asking whether or not you were dating, and it just got me wondering.”
Samantha’s mom? Why did I think there was more behind Samantha’s recently divorced mom’s question than neighborly interest? Since Amanda had been living with me, a number of her friends’ moms seemed to find an excuse to come by. I’d never given any one of them a reason to think I was available.
“I think it would be nice if you found someone is all. And I want a baby sister.”
I dated—and by that I meant had sex, plenty of sex. But it always happened in New York. I’d never brought anyone home to Connecticut. I kept my two worlds separate. Never anything more. I had the best of both worlds—my family in Connecticut and King & Associates and my career on Wall Street. I’d never needed anything more. There were no holes in my life as far as I was concerned. Apparently Amanda disagreed.
“You wouldn’t miss our father-daughter time together? Eating pancakes, watching the game?”
“Why would we have to stop doing that? The three of us could do it together, and when Chelsea was old enough, she could have pancakes, too.”
“Chelsea?” I was confused.
“My baby sister. Or maybe Amy would be better. I like that our names would both begin with an A.”
Of course. I chuckled as Amanda grinned at me. “You’re crazy, but I love you.”
“I could find you a date if you wanted.”
“Stop it and eat your pancakes.”
“If you agree to go on a date, I won’t tell Mom you’re feeding me pancakes on a Monday night. You know she’d have a cow.” Wow, maybe a few of my negotiation skills had been passed through the genetic line.
“Tell me you’re not trying to blackmail me.” I ruffled her hair as I sat beside her at the bar. “I’ll take my chances with your mother. She knows how sometimes sugar is the only solution.”
“You’re no fun.”
“I’m your dad. I’m not supposed to be fun.”
“Please just think about taking a woman to dinner. Tinder is meant to be the place to find someone.”
Tinder? “Promise me you’re not on Tinder, or I’m taking your phone and you’re not getting it back until you hit thirty-five.”
“Dad, of course I’m not on Tinder. Are you crazy? I’m fourteen.” At last she was making sense. “Tinder’s for old people. Like you.” Amanda held the syrup high above her plate and amber stickiness trickled out.
Was Harper on Tinder? Perhaps I should try to find out. Fuck, no. Why was I thinking like that?
“Check it out, Dad. Promise me.”
“I’m promising nothing,” I replied, but I wasn’t sure how convincing I sounded.
Chapter 3
Harper
I’d been waiting to hear from Max about the Bangladesh report for three days. I’d worked my ass off all weekend so he could have it on Monday. I shouldn’t have bothered. It was Wednesday evening and he’d canceled our follow-up meeting twice. I kicked off my shoes and slumped onto my sofa. I could hear Ben, or maybe it was Jerry, calling from the freezer.
“Knock it off, guys,” I yelled. I couldn’t spend the evening eating. No. I’d be productive—take advantage of the gym in the basement. That would take my mind off the asshole who was my boss. He’d strode past me in the corridor earlier in the day and totally ignored me. Okay, maybe my report could have been better, but giving me the silent treatment didn’t seem like the professional thing to do. I had to keep reminding myself he wasn’t the man I’d thought he would be and that still didn’t mean I couldn’t get a lot out of working for King & Associates.
I changed into my workout gear, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed downstairs. A gym in the building was more than I could have hoped for when I started looking for somewhere in Manhattan, and I’d not had a chance to visit yet. Work might not be good, but home was a cocoon from anything bad. I could relax—focus on the big picture.