“You can go up, lovely. It’s the second floor, first door on your right.”
I smiled and took a deep breath. I was really doing this.
Climbing the stairs, I looked toward the top. My father stood there, looking down.
“Harper. How lovely to see you.”
He acted as if it wasn’t completely ridiculous for me to be here. I’d been to this house three, maybe four times in my entire life, and not once in the last five years. “Thanks for seeing me,” I replied. I didn’t quite know how to handle the welcome.
“Of course. I’m delighted.” As I reached the top of the stairs he grasped me by my upper arms and kissed my cheek. “Did Miriam offer you something to eat or drink?”
I chuckled despite myself. “An entire roast dinner if I’d wanted, I think.”
“Good, good. Come in.”
We went into his office, a room in all pale blues and whites that reminded me of the ocean. It had been given a makeover since I’d been here last. I took a seat in the chair opposite his desk. He sat, then stood again. “Sorry, we shouldn’t be across a desk like this. We can go downstairs. Or out in the garden. I didn’t think.”
He was nervous. I wasn’t. I rarely saw him ruffled—he always acted as if everything was playing out exactly as he’d planned.
“I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. “Here’s good.”
He sat back down. “If you’re sure. Miriam sent you up here because I’m not as good with the stairs since I injured my knee playing tennis last summer.”
I couldn’t ever remember my father being so open, sharing anything so personal with me before. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes, yes, but I’m getting older and my body doesn’t bounce back in the way it used to.” He leaned back in his chair. “Anyway, it’s very nice to see you.” He nodded as if he were trying to convince himself. “We didn’t really get to speak as much as I’d hoped at lunch. How are you? Are you enjoying being in New York?”
I felt as if I’d gone to the theater and during the intermission come back to my seat to find I was watching a completely different play. My father was talking to me as if I’d been away for the summer rather than absent from his life.
“Everything’s good.” I twisted my hands in my lap. “I imagine you’re wondering why I’m here—”
“I don’t blame you for King & Associates canceling our meeting, if that’s what you think. I should never have asked for you to be replaced. I just thought it would be easier if . . .”
“What?” Easier? Easier for him maybe.
“But all’s well that ends well. You’re here.”
The conversation wasn’t going as I’d planned. I’d expected to ask him questions, for him to answer in half-truths and lies and I would call him on it. I had no idea what was going on. “I’m not following you. King & Associates canceled their meeting with you?”
“Yes, which is fine. We have excellent in-house resources.”
Why would Max do that? JD Stanley could have made him considerably richer than he already was.
“Yesterday.” His eyebrows pinched together. “You didn’t know?”
Thoughts of Max canceling the pitch created a swirl of guilt in my stomach. Wasn’t that what I’d wanted? I shook my head. I needed to focus on the here and now, not get distracted by thoughts of Max. “Can I ask you a question?”
My father looked a little uncomfortable but nodded.
“Why didn’t you offer me a job at JD Stanley?”
There. It was out. And even if I didn’t get an answer, I still felt a sense of relief from finally asking the question.
My father’s mouth opened, but he didn’t speak. He sighed and his head fell back on the chair. For a few awkward seconds we sat in silence before he finally said, “Look, I know I haven’t been a very good father.”
I’d never expected to hear those words. My stomach swooped and instinctively I glanced around for a trashcan, looking for something to throw up in. I’d opened a door and there was no closing it now—I’d lost control of this situation and felt as if I were tumbling down a rabbit hole.
“I never got it right with my kids when they were young. I didn’t have much of a relationship with any of your mothers, and I always felt like a fraud whenever I spent time with any of you. It was easier to throw money at a situation and go about my day.”
“A fraud?” I asked. Wasn’t that really him simply saying he felt uncomfortable and so took the easy way out?
He raised an eyebrow. “No one could ever describe me as a family man, and your mother was a good person.”
“I know.” I didn’t want him talking about my mother. “She did the best she could.”
“Which was pretty damn good given the way you turned out. You’re a beautiful, bright, accomplished woman. And I can take none of the credit.”
We could both agree on that, but it was uncomfortable to hear it. I’d expected an argument, for him to justify what he’d done. Instead I was getting a mea culpa. I didn’t know what to do with that.
Was he just telling me what I wanted to hear?
“It’s a shitty excuse, but I guess I didn’t feel I could do anything but make the situation worse. The best way I knew how to contribute was through money.”
Did he know he’d also contributed to my insecurity, my pain, my lack of trust? He focused on what he gave rather than what he’d taken away.
“And I was young and I was working twenty hours a day and . . .” His eyes went wide. “You know. I liked the women. So I guess I felt like a hypocrite then, trying to play the family man.”
“I guess the first time you got a girl pregnant that would make sense.” My mother had been the first woman he got pregnant, but he should have learned his lesson.
He nodded. “You’re right. I haven’t just made mistakes in my life, I’ve repeated them. But I have to answer to my other children about their situation. I’m describing my reasons for acting the way I did with you.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
He sighed. “Why would I offer you a job when you so clearly held me in contempt? It was different with your brothers—they allowed me to make amends.”
I laughed. “Right. So this is my fault.” Typical. I’d expected him to shift the blame so I shouldn’t be surprised.
“I’m not blaming you, but somehow I built a relationship with your brothers.”
Jealousy tugged at me. Why had they ended up with a father?
“I’d hoped we would do the same, but while you were at college, you cut off all contact.”
“And you threw money at the situation by setting up the trust?” I asked.
“I guess. I thought that at least if you were okay financially for the rest of your life then I didn’t have that guilt to live with.”
“So it wasn’t because I’m a girl? Woman.”
“What?” He chuckled, a look of surprise on his face. “Of course not. You made it clear you didn’t want a relationship, and if I’m going to be completely honest, I didn’t want a constant reminder of how I’d failed with you. It’s hard knowing your kid hates you, sees you as some kind of monster. Even harder to know it’s in some ways justified.”