The Bad Daughter(67)
“You mean an institution.”
“No,” Robin said. “I was thinking maybe an art school.” Then, “I don’t know.”
“Really? There’s something you don’t know?”
Robin sank back in her chair, anxiety swirling through her head, her energy spent. “Okay. You win. I give up.”
“And Cassidy? You gonna give her up, too?”
“I won’t abandon Cassidy.”
“No? How noble. What does that mean in practical terms?”
The receptionist was suddenly standing in front of them. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
Robin pushed herself to her feet. “Actually I think I’ll take a walk.” She crossed to the door and opened it. “I could use some air.”
“No need to hurry back,” she heard Melanie say as the door closed behind her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Breathe. Just breathe.
Robin stood on the sidewalk in front of Jeff McAllister’s office building and gulped at the surrounding air as if it were water. “Damn it,” she whispered. Just when she thought she and her sister were making progress, that they were on the verge of a real breakthrough, that they might actually be able to forge a relationship, reality had to rear its ugly head, like a rattlesnake disturbed at the side of the road by an unwary hiker.
How many times did she have to bang her head against this same brick wall?
“That’s it,” she said out loud. “I’m done.”
“I’m sorry,” someone said. “Are you talking to me?”
Robin looked up to see a woman perhaps a decade her senior standing in front of her, an inquisitive look on her wide face. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. Just talking to myself, I’m afraid.”
The woman laughed. “I do it all the time. No worries.”
Unfortunately, I have nothing but worries, Robin thought, as the woman continued on her way.
Robin looked up and down the long main street, stopping at the bright blue building that housed Davis Developers. It had been years since she’d been inside the attractive two-story structure; her father had frowned on unscheduled drop-ins. She remembered the place as a beehive of activity—employees rushing back and forth between offices, phones constantly ringing, designers toiling away to create something new and innovative, draftsmen making last-minute changes to blueprints, marketers struggling to develop fresh campaigns, the sales staff trying to persuade new clients to come on board. In addition to the creative staff, a substantial support staff served the business side of the company—the chief financial officer, two accountants, an office manager, and at least a dozen secretaries and assistants.
Still, only one person really counted, the one man they were all there to serve.
Her father.
Davis Developers was his business, his baby, his mistress. Robin thought it was probably the only thing, other than himself, that he’d ever truly loved. Nothing else came close. Not his wife. Not his other women. Certainly not his children.
“Cassidy,” she’d heard him whisper, his eyes searching the hospital room for the child who was not his own, but who had somehow managed to scale the wall of his self-absorption, a feat that none of his natural-born children had been able to achieve. I won’t abandon you, she thought now, recalling the look of skepticism on Melanie’s face, and wondering how Blake would react to the idea of Cassidy returning with Robin and him to L.A. She desperately hoped she wouldn’t be forced to choose between them.
So don’t tell me I have no worries, she called silently after the woman as she disappeared down the street. Taking another deep breath, Robin opened the elaborately carved wooden door of her father’s building and stepped inside the small lobby. She was greeted by a one-two punch of silence and frigid air.
“It’s freezing in here,” she said, more to herself than to the attractive, rosy-cheeked blonde behind the marble-and-glass reception desk. The nameplate on the desk’s black marble surface identified her as Shannon Leacock. She was wearing a heavy white sweater over her yellow sundress.
“I know. They keep it so cold,” Shannon commiserated. “Can I help you?”
“It’s so quiet,” Robin said, not really sure what she was doing here. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so quiet.”
“Well, we’re operating with a skeleton staff at the moment. Until we know…I’m sorry. Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” Robin said quickly. “I’m…I’m Robin Davis.”
“Robin Davis? Robin Davis?” Shannon repeated. “Are you related to Mr. Davis?”
“I’m his daughter.”
Shannon jumped to her feet, almost upending her black leather chair. “I’m so sorry. Your father…has something happened? Is he…?”
“Still hanging in there.”
“Oh, thank God. Just a minute, I’ll get Jackie. She’s our office manager.” Shannon grabbed her phone, pressing the numbers for Jackie Ingram’s extension before Robin could stop her.
Jackie Ingram was probably the last person Robin wanted to talk to right now. “It’s not necess—”
“Oh, no worries,” Shannon said.
Dear God.