The Chance (Thunder Point #4)(68)

She chewed her lip briefly. She remembered perfectly—she said he had a highly developed sense of entitlement, but she wasn’t about to help him remember. “Because of the way you treat me!”

“Treat you how? We exchanged words maybe, I don’t even remember the circumstances. Show me a family that doesn’t disagree sometimes.”

“Don’t tell me you can’t remember it!”

“Well, I won’t argue with you again. You obviously take my opinions too personally. You know, Laine, some people are sensitive and some are just plain touchy.”

She sat back in her chair. “You don’t even know you do it, do you? You never say a positive thing! Now I’m touchy because I was hurt by your insulting remarks! You know, some people are opinionated and some are just rude and cruel!”

Laine tried to calm herself. It wasn’t as if Senior had never apologized, though it wasn’t often. He could be charming when he put his mind to it. Her mother had adored him; his nurses and techs loved him; his patients worshipped him. But pretending not to remember a blowout that was pivotal in their relationship? He was a giant ass, that’s all.

“You know how I feel about you, Laine. I’m your father, of course I love you. I’ve always been proud of you. I’m proud of everything you do.”

“You don’t ever say that,” she said.

“You took first place in the King Oak dressage competition. I filmed the whole event. We watched it together repeatedly. We celebrated! That’s a father’s pride, right there!”

She gave her head a slight shake, narrowing her eyes. Her mouth stood open slightly. She hadn’t ridden in competition in over fifteen years. The event he mentioned was almost twenty years ago in Massachusetts. Was he kidding? She was just about to light into him for using a twenty-year-old example in an argument proving he was devoted when—

She heard the front door open. Eric must have been concerned about her. He was early. When he walked into the kitchen Senior stood up. “Who is this?” her father asked.

“Dad, this is Eric Gentry.”

Senior put out his hand. “Dr. Carrington,” he said.

“First names, Dad,” she insisted.

“Paxton Carrington,” he corrected. “How do you do?”

“Pleasure, sir,” Eric said.

“I brewed coffee, Eric.” Cell phone in her hand, Laine said, “Would you like to visit with my father for a minute? I need to be excused, but I won’t be long.”

Eric gave her a half smile and knowing look. He didn’t have to be a detective to figure this out—she had a death grip on her phone. Then he moved toward the coffeepot. “Take your time. We’ll be fine.”

Laine bolted for the stairs and closed herself into her bedroom. She hit the speed dial for Pax and for once he actually answered. “He’s here!” she blurted. “What the hell is Senior doing here?”

Pax wasn’t just surprised. He actually stuttered a little. “Huh? What? What are you talking about?”

“Senior is here! My doorbell rang, I opened the door and there he stood, filling up the frame with his confidence and stubbornness! You couldn’t warn me?”

“Laine, you can’t think I knew and didn’t call you! I thought he was in town. I talked to him last week. In fact, he was supposed to go to San Francisco for a conference—he was a presenter. He was a no-show and they were looking for him. He said he changed his mind about going, said he notified them and it was their screwup, but he never said a thing about Oregon.”

“He changed his mind and didn’t tell you? He planned a trip to Thunder Point without telling anyone? That isn’t like him. Did you talk to Mrs. Mulligrew like I suggested?”

“She said she hadn’t noticed anything other than him being preoccupied sometimes. If he’s home he stays in his office, but he’s not usually home when she’s there. He kept lots of drugs, mostly samples, in his office, but mostly for use in orthopedics. Sometimes he forgot to leave her a check, but if she reminded him or left him a note, it was there the next time. What’s he doing there?”

“He said he wants to put our problems to rest. But his next sentence was insulting! ‘You know some people are sensitive and some are just plain touchy’!” she said, mimicking him. “No wonder I want to smack him upside the head.”

“How long is he staying?” Pax asked.

“He’s not staying here! No way! He wasn’t invited. He must have a rental car, though I didn’t look outside. There’s a motel in town, far beneath his standards I’m sure, but he’s not staying here! He hasn’t done anything to put this situation to rest!”

“Oh, man,” Pax groaned. “I’m so glad I’m not there....”

“What am I supposed to do with him? I don’t want yet another big fight with him. I’m just not that person right now! I want peace! I’ve earned it.”

“Well, can you leave town?” Pax asked.

“What?”

“I don’t know, Laine. Tell him his timing was bad and you were just headed to Switzerland for a month at a spa and you’ll be in touch?”

“You’re funny. What would Genevieve do?”

“Hmm. She’d give him a cup of tea, listen to him without responding or find a benign topic, offer him food and nod politely. Escape to her mother’s or sister’s whenever she could, vent to them and take long baths until he left and then complain to me for weeks afterward about what an impossible load he is. She wouldn’t engage him. I don’t engage him. It’s like rams locking horns.”