Santa's Sweetheart (The Christmas Tree Ranch #4)(63)



“Then let’s have coffee somewhere quiet. We need to talk before you see him. You need to know what to expect.”

“All right. Lead the way.” Grace lengthened her steps to keep pace with his long strides as they left the main terminal and headed for the parking garage. She hadn’t seen her father, or even known what his life was like, for more than twenty years. Cooper was wise to prepare her. There were things she needed to understand before she saw him.





Chapter Fifteen


Falling snow battered the windshield of the rental SUV, faster than the wipers could clear it away. In the gathering darkness, Grace could barely make out the traffic lanes ahead. But Cooper seemed to know where they were going. Tired and emotional, she settled back into the seat and let him take her.

After fighting rush-hour traffic from the airport and winding through a maze of streets, Cooper pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of what appeared to be a small coffee shop. The lights were on, the OPEN sign glowing through the front window.

Cooper, always the gentleman, came around to help her out of the vehicle. “Careful, it’s slippery,” he said, taking her arm as they crossed the snowy parking lot. “The hospital, St. Mark’s, is just a few blocks from here. I discovered this place by accident. The coffee’s good, and they sell great oatmeal-raisin cookies.”

Inside, the place was rustic and cozy. A potbellied stove, with a cleverly disguised gas burner, provided heat and a cheery glow through the mica panes in its door. Old-fashioned Christmas lights were strung above the counter. A pine candle scented the room with holiday fragrance.

Cooper ordered two coffees and two cookies at the counter, then led the way to a corner booth. They hadn’t said much on the way here, mostly just small talk about her flight and her new life in Branding Iron. But Grace sensed that the serious conversation was about to begin.

Their order arrived on a tray, the coffee steaming. Grace added some cream from a hand-thrown pottery pitcher and took a careful sip. “So, are you going to fill me in on our father?”

Cooper broke off a chunk of cookie and dunked it in his coffee, something she remembered him doing years ago, at home. He looked good, the wrinkles deepening around his hazel eyes and a touch of silver showing in his dark hair. He’d been single since his divorce nine years ago and had a teenage son who lived with his ex-wife while they shared custody. He made a good living as a freelance magazine writer.

“When was the last time you had any contact with Dad?” he asked.

“The day he walked out. I believe my last words to him were ‘Please don’t go, Daddy.’ ”

“But he did try to stay in touch with you, didn’t he?”

“He sent me a few letters, birthday cards, little gifts. Mom always sent them back. I let her. After a while he stopped trying.”

“Did he phone you?”

“I don’t know. Mom always answered the phone. If he called, she never told me. But when she got sick and he never came to see her, never even showed up for the funeral, even when I knew you’d phoned him about it, I vowed I would never forgive him.”

“He sent flowers. Remember that bouquet of two dozen pink roses, with no card? Those were from him. He didn’t come because he knew his being there would upset the family, especially you.”

“It doesn’t matter. He destroyed our family. Things were never happy after he left.” Grace resisted the urge to tell him about the day she’d come home from school. No need, she told herself. The situation was already painful enough.

“Things weren’t happy before he left,” Cooper said. “He and Mom hid it from you, but I knew about the fights they had. And whatever you might think, Dad paid for what he did. His new wife left him after going through his money. He and Mom had agreed to split a property cash-out in place of alimony and child support, so his loss didn’t affect you, but that second divorce left him penniless.”

“Couldn’t he make enough selling real estate? He was always good at that.”

“He tried. But the housing market was down. Nobody was buying. And he didn’t have the drive anymore. It was as if he’d lost his magic touch. He’d call me every few months to catch up. That was how I found out all this.

“We kept in touch over the years, although we didn’t get together. He’d tell me he was back on his feet, selling property again, living in a nice condo, and he’d met a terrific woman.

“Last year, I was passing through Salt Lake City on business and decided to surprise him. I found out it was all a lie. When I tracked down the address he’d given me, I found him living in a run-down motel room on the west side, cleaning a bar after hours to make rent. I took him out for a good meal and gave him some cash. It was all I could do. I didn’t know he was sick until the hospital called me this week.” Cooper finished his coffee and set the mug on the tray. “Our father paid for what he did, Grace. He lost everything.”

“He didn’t lose it. He threw it away. Why didn’t you tell me all this before now?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t want to hear it. Every time he called me, he asked about you. He was so proud that you were a teacher.”

“You didn’t tell him I was a wreck in the relationship department?”

Instead of answering, Cooper glanced at his watch, pulled a couple of bills out of his wallet, and laid them on the table. “We need to go,” he said. “I can’t tell you what to do, Grace. I just wanted you to understand the man you’re about to meet.”

Janet Dailey's Books