Love Handles (Oakland Hills #1)(92)

“I was just going to say—”

“I know, I know. You told me not to try and I ignored you, and here I am crawling back to you for help. But I’m almost there, Dad. I’m working my ass off and I’m good at it. All I need is one little thing from you and I refuse to listen to all the reasons you think I’m going to fail.” She sucked in a deep breath and bent over to the cracked sidewalk to find a bigger stone to throw.

He paused. “Your mother must have really done a number on you.”

“Not just her. Kate. Ellen. You and Andy. Each one of you tells me what I can’t do, why I’m not good enough, tough enough, whatever. Just because I’m not like you.” She threw another rock, grunting with the effort and feeling a strain her shoulder. “I’m sick of it! Just help me out, all right?”

A gust of wind kicked up and whistled across the mouthpiece of her phone, deafening the line. If her father said anything she couldn’t hear it. Feeling drained, she brushed the hair out of her eyes, sucking in another breath of ocean air, and got back in the car.

The phone was quiet. She pulled it away from her ear to read the display, see if he’d hung up. He hadn’t.

She heard him clear his throat. “First of all, let me apologize,” he said finally.

Closing her eyes, she sank back into her seat and rubbed her shoulder. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have lost my temper—”

“Hold on. You’ve had your say. Let me have mine.”

She swallowed. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat again. “First of all, I apologize for my bad taste in choosing your mother. I bear primary responsibility for that. She’s never been the nurturing type and since I’m not either, you’ve been left holding the shit end of the stick.”

“But—”

“Let me finish.”

She bit her lip. “Sorry.”

“However,” he continued, “as much as I hate to admit it, you wouldn’t be the terrific person you are without her DNA. And since there’s nothing we can do about changing the past anyway, you’ll just have to accept my condolences for your unlucky break in the mother department and move on.”

Terrific person?

“Now, about this crazy idea you have that I think you’re going to fail.”

“It’s not crazy. You practically said just that when we had lunch that day. Andy too.”

“You misunderstood us. You’d never worked in a struggling corporation, people depending on you, lacking the resources to make it work. We were afraid you didn’t realize what you were getting into. That you’d be unhappy.” He paused. “Like us.”

Her breath caught. She’d never thought he was unhappy with his work—just life in general. “You’re unhappy?”

“Not always. But often. I see Andy falling into the same trap and it would kill me to watch you make the same mistake. No family, working a hundred hours a week, pissing your life away. And for what? I’ve made a mess of a couple marriages, but one thing I’ll never regret is having you and Andy. The best thing that ever happened to me.”

Bev wiped her eyes. “Oh, Dad.”

“And it kills me that you think I’d want to rub your nose in your mistakes. If I’ve ever done that before, I’m sorry. My own father was like that and I never forgave him. Dead almost thirty years and I’m still shouting at him in my sleep.”

She didn’t know what to say. He’d never spoken about his father, never hinted at any unresolved pain. Her tears threatened to wash away her contacts; she dug into her purse for a tissue. “I always wondered about him.”

“He wasn’t easy but he provided for us. That was a man’s job back then,” he said roughly. “Can’t live in the past, but I don’t want to repeat it either. You’ve got to know I love you.”

She smiled. “I know.”

“And that I’m proud of you. Always have been. If I criticized your job it’s just because I thought you deserved better. You do deserve better,” he said. “This company of your grandfather’s—they’re lucky to have you.”

She closed her eyes and felt the tears escape down her face. “Thank you,” she whispered. “That means so much.”

“And whatever I can do to help you out, I’m honored to do it. I wish I hadn’t screwed up, driving you to wait this long to ask for my assistance,” he said. “Andy feels the same way. He’s chomping at the bit to fly up there and support you, but I told him we had to wait for an invitation. Out of respect.”

She had to put the phone down to blow her nose. After she could speak, she lifted it back to her face. “Thank you, Dad.”

He didn’t respond right away. “I love you, sweetheart.” He cleared his throat roughly. “So, now that that little Oprah moment is out of the way, what can I do for you?”

She watched a sea lion, balancing on the edge of a large rock in the surf, roll onto its back and wave its flippers like a child making a snow angel.

Then she looked at herself in the rearview mirror, into her bright, red-rimmed eyes, and felt a surge of power, love, and hope.

“I need Annabelle Tucker’s direct phone number,” she said, and smiled.