“Grafton…” Lynley warns. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
I scoff at her. “I’ve never had a bad idea, this included.”
“Hey, Momma,” Ginny calls. “If he breaks his arm, will he get a cast, like I did?”
There’s a twinkle in my lady’s blue eyes. “I’ll make sure of it. In fact, why don’t we ask the doctors to make it a smashing pink?”
Her daughter lets out a peal of laughter as I shake my head, clucking my tongue in disappointment. “No faith at all.”
“What’s wrong with you?”Judith demands as I walk from the elevator to my office door. “Have you broken something?”
I scowl at her. “No, I haven’t broken anything.” I look away, muttering, “Just pulled a muscle.”
She ducks her head, but doesn’t quite manage to hide the smirk in time. She clears her throat. “Vivian Alhurt, from Oceanic Capital, called. She needs to push the meeting back an hour. Your brother called, requesting an audience”—I blink at her choice of words, but she only shrugs—“and I said you’d get back to him at your earliest convenience.”
“You really do like poking the bear, hm?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Judith returns primly. “There’s also a note on the planner to remind you to call your parents.”
I rub the back of my neck, knowing I need to rip the Band-Aid off for that one. “Right. Guess Vivian’s timing works, then, hm? Thanks, Judith.”
I head into the office, her voice following me. “I’ll order you some painkillers and a heat pack.”
I open my mouth to tell her not to, but another step has a sharp pain rolling through my back, and I grunt. “Fine.” I shut the door on her laughter, collapsing back into my chair with relief.
I might have managed the handstand just fine, but the landing is where I went sideways. But Ginny was impressed enough to make it worth it, even though I know I’ll be feeling the pain for a solid week or two.
When the stabbing ache subsides, I pull my phone out and pull up my parents’ contact. It rings five times beforemy father finally picks up. “Graft! We wondered whether you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”
“Pops,” I greet. “Boy, I’m glad you aren’t becoming dramatic in your old age.”
He scoffs rudely. “What did you expect us to think? We’ve heard from your brother more than we’ve heard from you.”
I go still at that. “Is that right?”
My father hums through the line, the sound so full of exasperation I can’t help but smile. “Yes.” His voice is filled with sardonic amusement. “Thatcher told us all about the situation Angelica’s got herself entangled in.”
I lean back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Don’t tell me he came running to you for money.”
“I’m surprised you guessed,” he responds dryly. “I thought Angelica was working for you.”
“She was. Or is, I suppose. Her resignation hasn’t come across my desk yet, but she’s got Thatcher’s work ethic and a bigger plan than interning at a marketing firm.”
“I never understood why Thatcher was so insistent that you get her a job,” my father remarks. “And I’m not sure I want to know what ‘bigger plan’ means, but tell me anyway.”
“You know she’s pregnant,” I say, waiting for his noise of confirmation. “Well, the person she’s pointing fingers at is a former employee of mine. Amarriedemployee.”
He lets out a low curse. “Please tell me there are no children involved.”
I’m not surprised that is one of his first questions. “Can’t do that, Pops,” I murmur. “There are two of them, nine and seven. Good kids.”
“Angelica knew?” There’s a thread of hope, like hewants me to tell him that it’s not true, and I hate to pull the thread loose.
“She knew. He didn’t even bother to take his wedding ring off when he broke his vows. He’s going through a divorce now, but it’s a messy situation.”
He lets out a low, vicious curse. “Thatcher told us that she was pregnant and needed help, but he left a lot of the details out.” Another curse, strong enough to blister my ears through the phone. “Your mother won’t be happy about this, but the eggs have already hatched, I guess.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say they’re hatched, but they’re definitely fertilized."
