What I Did for Love (Wynette, Texas #5)(91)

“The water’s perfect,” he said.

“O-kay.” She slipped in.

He immediately began swimming toward the deep end. As he turned back toward her, she kicked off.

It went on that way for a while, the two of them swimming back and forth in opposite directions, neither one speaking. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she finally put her feet down. “Dad, I know how much this Greenberg meeting means to you, but—”

He stopped swimming. “We don’t always have to talk about business. Why don’t we just…relax a little?”

She regarded him quizzically. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong.” But he wasn’t meeting her eyes, and he seemed uncomfortable. Maybe she’d watched too many movies, because she started wondering if he might have some kind of terminal disease, or maybe he’d decided to marry one of the women he dated, none of whom Georgie could warm up to, although she was grateful her father dated age-appropriately instead of going out with the twenty-somethings he could still attract.

“Dad, are you—”

An enormous splash of water hit her full in the face. She put up her hands, but not before he drew back his arm and sent another splash flying directly at her. Water shot up her nose and stung her eyes. She sputtered and choked. “What are you doing?”

His arm dropped to his side. His face flushed with what, if she didn’t know him better, would have been embarrassment. “I was just…having a little fun.”

She coughed and finally caught her breath. “Well, stop it!”

He took a step back. “I’m sorry. I thought…”

“Are you sick? What’s wrong?”

He lunged for the ladder. “I’m not sick. We’ll talk later.”

He grabbed his towel and hurried off toward the house. She gazed after him, trying to figure out what had just happened.





Chapter 20




After Georgie had dressed and showered, she went into her office. Aaron sat at the computer, working away to the invisible beat coming through his headphones. He started to remove them, but she gestured for him to leave them on. Her father’s things were gone. Good. That meant she could take the coward’s way out and text him this evening to tell him she’d refused the meeting instead of delivering the news face-to-face.

She glanced at the guest list for their wedding party, which was less than three weeks away, and saw that nearly everyone had accepted—no surprise. A stack of invitations to benefits, fashion shows, and the debut of her hairdresser’s new product line waited for her, but she didn’t want to do any of it. She only wanted to look at the film she’d shot of Chaz.

Aaron had helped her set up her new editing equipment in the far corner of the room. She loaded the footage and quickly became absorbed in what she saw. As much as Chaz’s story fascinated her, she was also intrigued by Soledad, the housecleaner. And there were so many others she wanted to talk to. Waitresses and shop-girls. Meter maids and nursing-home aides. She wanted to record the stories of everyday women doing everyday work in the glamour capital of the world.

When she finally looked up from the monitor, she discovered Aaron had left for the day. Laura should have canceled her meeting by now, but just in case she hadn’t, Georgie would wait until tomorrow morning to call Rich Greenberg with her apologies.

She went downstairs and was unpleasantly surprised to find her father coming out of the screening room. “Catching up on an old Almodóvar film,” he said.

“I thought you’d left.”

“My cleaning service discovered a mold problem in the town house. I’m having it treated, but I need to move out for a few days while that’s going on. I hope you don’t mind if I stay here a little longer.”

She did mind, especially now that she had to deliver the news about the canceled meeting to his face. “That’s fine.”

Bram emerged from the kitchen. “Stay as long as you want, Dad,” he drawled. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

“Like the plague,” her father shot back.

“Not as long as you follow the rules.”

“Which means?”

Bram was clearly enjoying himself, but then the world was his oyster, so why not? “First, leave Georgie alone. She’s my headache now, not yours.”

“Hey!” Georgie planted her hand on her hip.

“Second…Actually, that’s it. Ease up on your daughter. But I’d also like to hear your thoughts on Tree House.”

Her father glowered. “Don’t you ever get tired of being sarcastic, Shepard?”

Georgie stared at Bram. “I don’t think he’s being sarcastic, Dad. He really wants your opinion. And, believe me, I’m as surprised as you.”

Her fake husband looked down his nose at her. “Just because Paul’s a controlling pain in the ass who drives you crazy doesn’t mean he’s not smart. He gave a hell of a reading last night, and I’d like to hear what he has to say about the script.”

Her father, who was never at a loss for words, didn’t seem to know how to respond. Finally, he slipped a hand in his pocket and said, “All right.”

Their dinner conversation got off to an awkward start, but no one came to blows, and before long, they were brainstorming ways to solve a credibility problem in Helene and Danny’s first scene. Later, Paul argued that Ken’s character should be more nuanced, insisting that adding more layers to the abusive father’s personality would make him additionally menacing. Georgie agreed with her father, and Bram listened attentively.