The Passing Storm(62)

The moisture fled Rae’s mouth. “You mean, how she wanted to know who he was?”

Past tense, and Quinn frowned. “Who the guy is,” he said, correcting the error. “Lark did know him. She knew him well. Sometimes they spent time together, on Wednesdays.”





Chapter 23


Outside, tires screamed.

Dropping his briefcase, Griffin sprinted to the window. Two stories below, a blue Honda Civic swerved past the dealership. Jumping the curb, it clipped an empty flower planter near Design Mark’s entryway. The car screeched to a halt.

There wasn’t time to process what was happening. Within seconds Rae was up the stairwell and marching into his office. An easy maneuver; his staff wasn’t in yet.

“Griffin! You sneaky, manipulative—” She bit back an oath. “What’s wrong with you? Who gave you permission to associate with my daughter?”

Bafflement held Griffin like a vise. Of all the potential interactions he’d imagined having with Rae when they eventually ran into each other, he never could’ve predicted this full-on assault. Scrambling for the right words, he managed to fake an air of composure.

“Slow down, Rae,” he said. “Why don’t you let me—”

“Don’t tell me what to do! We’re not in high school anymore. You’re not my boyfriend. Even when you were, I didn’t let you order me around.”

“Listen, I can see you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset. I’m livid! I can’t begin to comprehend what excuse you think will get you out of this. Of all the devious, backhanded stunts. Lark was visiting Design Mark for weeks? Why didn’t you put her on the payroll, Griffin? Ask her to drop her after-school activities to schlep coffee for your staff? No one in their right mind lets a ninth grader roam their place of employment, not without checking with the girl’s mother . . .”

Getting in a word proved impossible. Better to let her vent until she ran out of steam.

As she railed, Griffin found himself evaluating her. Despite the grievous losses she’d endured, the years had been kind to Rae. Her eyes were more striking than he remembered, a dusky forest green. Her hair was appealingly long. The riot of reddish-gold locks cascaded past her shoulders. She was disturbingly attractive—and nearly intimidating, given her height.

The silly conviction he’d forged in high school captured his thoughts.

If Vikings ruled the world, Rae would be their queen.

“Stop zoning out!” She came forward. “Your daydreaming always drove me crazy. You’d zone out whenever I was upset. Like you were picking up radio frequencies from Mars.”

Or sending an SOS.

“I’m listening.” He gestured toward the window. “You’re shouting loud enough for everyone at the dealership to hear you. Mind turning down the volume?”

“All right.” Her voice dropped to an acceptable level. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you aware a child Lark’s age is impressionable?”

“I am.”

“Did you know my daughter was badgering me nonstop? All those demands for the name of her father. After years of raising her in blissful tranquility, we were suddenly having a million stupid arguments. And no wonder. Lark had you in the background, egging her on. It’s appalling how you encouraged my daughter.”

“Calm down,” he snapped. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

“I wouldn’t be like this, if it weren’t for your scheming.”

“Rae, sit down. Let’s talk this out like reasonable adults.”

“Last warning, Griffin. Stop telling me what to do.”

She was coming at him too fast, overrunning his defenses. Apparently Yuna had returned the keepsake faster than anticipated, to poor results. Which was baffling. Yuna had indicated she’d wait a couple of weeks before playing delivery boy. Even more curious: she’d returned the box without giving him the heads-up he was sure she would provide.

None of which mattered now.

Griffin rocked back on his heels. “I didn’t encourage Lark,” he said, determined not to let Rae throw him off-balance. It was her special talent. But he was older now, with skills of his own. “You’re implying I devised a master plan to strike up a friendship with her. Nothing could be further from the truth. Lark approached me. Not the other way around.”

“So it’s her fault? That’s big of you. And how would you characterize repeated visits between a girl and the man she’s picked out for her father? If that isn’t encouragement, what is?” A low growl of frustration escaped Rae. “My daughter cooks up a lottery, and you’re the winning ticket. It would be funny if it wasn’t tragic.”

A low blow, but he took it in stride. “Rae, I didn’t understand what was going on. Not immediately.”

“You’re pleading . . . stupidity? That’s your excuse?”

Another blow, and his anger sparked. “It’s the only one I have.”

“Griffin, I worked hard to raise Lark. I put her front and center in every decision I made. She was everything to me. She didn’t need you jumping in, pretending you were eager and available to play the role of father. She had me and a grandfather who adored her. She was fine. More than fine—Lark was smart and confident and capable. She didn’t need you.”