If I Didn't Know Better (The Callaways #9)(66)

Jeremy swallowed hard, emotion putting a knot in his throat. He really hadn't thought he needed to have this kind of conversation with his father, but it was surprisingly good. Maybe Mia had been right. They had had unfinished business between them.

"I'd like to know your daughter—my granddaughter," his father continued. "I'd like to be someone you'd want to introduce her to. I know your mother has probably been furious with me all these years for screwing up with you. She'd want me to try harder, and I want to try harder."

"Okay." If his father was going to make an effort, he could try to meet him halfway. "I'm going to take Ashlyn to the movie in the park tonight. If you're there, and you're sober, we'll say hello. But if you do anything I don't like, I will protect Ashlyn, and there won't be any more chances."

"I understand. You know something—I did one thing right, Jeremy."

"What's that?"

"I raised a better man than I could ever be."

Jeremy drew in a breath and blew it out. He didn't know what to say, so he settled for, "I'll see you later."

As he walked off the boat, he wondered if a miracle had just occurred. But only time would tell if his father would make good on his promise to be sober.



*



After leaving his father's boat, Jeremy drove to the Redwood Medical Center to pick up Ashlyn. On the way, he pulled out his phone and saw he had a missed call from Mia. Her voicemail was rather interesting, too. He wondered what she'd found in her aunt's house. Despite her use of the word odd, she didn't sound upset, so he'd just go by there when he got home.

"How did it go?" he asked Ashlyn when she hopped into the car.

"Dr. Westcott said I'm really good," she told him with a proud smile.

"I'm happy to hear that."

"I told her about Mommy." She hesitated, her eyes concerned. "Was that okay?"

"Absolutely okay. I want you to talk about your mom whenever you want to. Where do you want to go now? We can get lunch, go to the park, the beach, whatever you want."

"Can we pick up sandwiches and go see Mia?"

"We can do that," he said, happy that Ashlyn's plan for the day meshed perfectly with his.

They picked up sandwiches, chips, and cookies at the deli and then went straight to Mia's house. She opened the door with a gleam of excitement in her eyes.

"Come in," she said. "I can't wait to show you what I found."

"Is it treasure?" Ashlyn asked.

"It might be," Mia said, taking them into the kitchen.

Spread out on the kitchen table was a painting, the four corners anchored down by salt and pepper shakers.

"Look at this," Mia said, as he set the food down on the island counter.

"Is it a famous painting?" he asked, not sure exactly what he was looking at. "I know nothing about art, so that's probably a stupid question."

"It's not famous, but it's very old, and it's possible that it was painted by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, a French painter who worked in the Post-Impressionist period with artists like Cézanne, Van Gogh, and Gaugin."

"That sounds like a good thing," he said, feeling way out of his depth. "How do you know if it's his painting?"

"It's not signed, so I'd have to take it to an expert to get it appraised and make sure it's not a really good forgery, but my instincts tell me this is valuable."

"How valuable?"

"Well, one of his paintings was recently auctioned at Christie's for 22.4 million dollars."

"That's a lot of cash. Where did you find it? Was it in the studio?"

"No, it was in my aunt's bedroom closet."

"She's pretty," Ashlyn said, pointing to one of the female figures in the painting. The woman wore a dark red dress with a black and red hat on her head and long, lacy gloves up to her elbows.

"She is pretty," Mia agreed, giving Ashlyn a smile.

"Can I paint something?" Ashlyn asked.

"Of course, maybe after lunch," Mia said. "Judging by those bags, I'm guessing you brought food."

"You haven't eaten, have you?" he asked.

"No, I've been too caught up in this. I've been trying to research the painting online, but I haven't had any luck. It's possible it wasn't painted by Henri, but my gut tells me it's his work."

"I'd trust your gut."

"Can I have my sandwich, Daddy?" Ashlyn asked, sliding off the kitchen chair.

He didn't think he would ever get tired of hearing her call him Daddy. "Yes. Why don't you sit at the counter, so we don't mess up this painting?"

They walked over to the counter, and Ashlyn got on the stool while he opened up the wrapped sandwiches and handed her one.

"Do you need any drinks?" Mia asked.

"We brought some," he said. "I've got turkey, roast beef, or a vegetarian wrap."

She smiled at the spread. "That's a lot of food."

"What doesn't get eaten now, we'll save for later. What would you like?"

"I'll take the wrap," she replied.