“I’m not a pauper,” retorted Scarlett defensively. “And I’m not going to be some sort of mercenary, unfeeling bitch who takes money for doing the right thing. This girl’s my half-sister, for Christ’s sake. And while I know there’s a whole lot of terrible people in this world who’d gladly take or expect money for helping family out - my mother and grandmother would have been two of them - that’s not me.”
“I know that, sweetie,” assured Margie softly. “You’re a good kid, Scarlett. Despite that gruff exterior and that chip on your shoulder that’s probably never going to go away completely, you have the biggest, kindest heart of just about anyone I’ve ever known. You were always so good with Andy and Marcus and the other kids here. And I don’t mean to imply you should accept money for doing the right thing. That doesn’t mean, however, that your asshole father doesn’t owe you money for all the years he should have been supporting you. Do the math, kiddo. Figure out how much it would have cost to support you for eighteen years - lodging, food, medical, clothes, the works. He owes you, Scarlett. And I for one wouldn’t even blink an eyelash if you asked him to make at least a small part of that up to you.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, until Margie began to yawn. Scarlett promised to call her the following night and let her and Roz know what happened after meeting her father. As for herself, Margie’s advice had caused the wheels to start spinning in her brain, and instead of continuing with her studies, she reached instead for a pad of paper, pen, and a calculator.
Chapter Eight
“I could have predicted she’d be late. Just as ditsy and irresponsible as that idiot mother of hers,” groused Neil.
Jackson checked his watch and gave a roll of his eyes. “Jesus, Neil, she’s like two minutes late. Will you give the girl a break already? I’ve told you three times - Scarlett had a class this morning and then had to take a bus here from the campus. Maybe if you’d been a real father to her she’d own a car and could have driven here herself. So quit griping, would you? Especially since she’s just arrived.”
Neil glanced up at that announcement, and the shock he must have felt at seeing his daughter for the first time was evident on his face.
“She - she doesn’t look anything like Nikki,” he whispered in disbelief. “She looks a lot like - well, like my mother. And my sister. Even a little bit like Hannah.”
Jackson ignored his brother-in-law, rising to his feet instead as Scarlett hurried over to their table. Her cheeks were flushed and her red-gold curls in their usual state of disarray. She’d dressed a little nicer than usual this morning - wearing a slightly less disreputable pair of jeans, a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and leather sandals in place of her usual ratty sneakers.
What hadn’t changed, however, not even a tiny bit, was the expression of defiance and the utter lack of fear or intimidation on her vibrant face. As Neil slowly got out of his seat to stand face to face with Scarlett, he was the one who appeared more than a little intimidated, an observation that drew a silent chuckle from Jackson.
“Well,” drawled Scarlett, arching a brow as she and Neil continued to gaze at each other, “I must admit this is one family reunion I never thought I’d see happen. Or that I’d particularly looked forward to. But then, until a week or so ago I thought your name was Tom Banfield. A name that I’ve heaped every curse known to mankind upon more times than I can count.”
Neil flushed, and glanced away, clearly discomfited by this unwelcome meeting. “I suppose that’s just one of many things I need to apologize for,” he muttered. “After all, that’s why you insisted on my being here today, isn’t it? To make me grovel and tell you how sorry I am for all of it.”
Scarlett shrugged. “Maybe a little. But an apology isn’t worth shit if it’s not given with sincerity. And that’s far from the only reason I asked to meet you today.”
Jackson glanced around the room anxiously, all too aware that the three of them were already attracting unwanted attention. “Why don’t we all sit down, hmm? Scarlett, we waited to order until you arrived.”
`He pulled out a chair for her before she could protest or seat herself. She plunked herself onto the chair rather ungraciously, before dropping her well worn backpack to the ground.
“Sorry if I was a few minutes late,” she mumbled, not sounding even a tiny bit apologetic. “The bus stop is a couple of blocks away from here, so I miscalculated how long it would take to walk over.”
Jackson waved a hand in dismissal. “You’re not late. We just got here ourselves a couple of minutes before you did. Here’s a menu.”
“Good. I’m starving,” replied Scarlett as she quickly scanned the menu. “Made the mistake of leaving a tub of yogurt and some fruit in the fridge and of course one of my deadbeat roommates stole it. Despite the fact that I taped a note to it with my name on it - a threatening note, at that. But I’m pretty sure I know which one of those little shits took it and trust me, there will be consequences. That’s why I hardly ever leave food in the kitchen.”
Neil stared at her in dismay. “Exactly how many roommates do you have?”
She shrugged. “Not quite sure at the moment. There’s always a parade of people coming and going, but some are just overnighters. But at least eight to ten people at a time, usually more.”
Neil looked horrified at the mere thought of having to co-exist with so many people, but wisely didn’t comment further. A waitress arrived to take their order then, with Scarlett ordering first - a loaded three-egg omelet, home fries, buttermilk biscuit, and a side of pancakes, along with coffee and orange juice. Jackson, who’d already eaten breakfast at the Phoenix airport, chose avocado toast with a poached egg, while prissy Neil ordered an egg white omelet with a side of fruit.
Neil eyed his daughter skeptically. “That seems like an awful lot of food for someone your size. When was the last time you ate anyway?”
Scarlett added copious amounts of cream and sugar to her coffee and gave it a stir before answering him. “Are you asking out of concern for my wellbeing, or because of the amount of the tab?”
Neil scowled. “You might not look much like your mother, but you’re sure mouthy like her,” he grumbled.
She took a long drink of coffee. “I wouldn’t know,” she retorted airily. “Since she had a little too much to drink one night, plus a little too much to snort, and crashed her car when I was five years old. I barely remember her. But guess you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? I mean, since you weren’t around to do something like give a shit. Or, gee, I don’t know, maybe take me to live with you instead of leaving me at the mercy of my bitch of a grandmother?”
Neil rolled his eyes. “So here it comes. Christ, I thought we could at least get through breakfast before you started in on me.” He glanced around the restaurant anxiously. “And could you watch your language, please? I realize this place is out of your league, but can you manage to act like a lady for a little while?”