“Hey, by chance do you have that letter with you? The one Dad got from Grandpa?” Jake glances to me, then backto his mom. “I want to show Campbell. And any chance you have any of that extra info Aunt Winnie dug up?”
Daisy lets out a soft, tired sigh, wiping her hands on her apron. “Oh, honey, I couldn’t pry that research out of Winnie’s hands if my life depended on it. She’s like a dog with a bone right now. And I gave her the letter. Well, more like she took it and won’t give it back.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “What kind of information do you mean?”
Daisy sighs as her brow wrinkles with thought.
“I think she’s got some of the land contracts that are public record,” Daisy explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And if I know Roddy’s sister, probably a few that aren’t.”
Before she can elaborate, Roddy steps to her side. He swings his arm around her for a hug, and there’s a moment where it feels like the two of them are about to kiss, but they don’t.
“Mind?” Roddy asks with a nod toward the empty half of the booth.
“Please,” Jake says.
His father slides in, grabbing a menu that Daisy quickly rips from his hand.
“I know what you want,” she says, swatting his hands with the laminated list of burgers and fried foods.
“What if I want something else?” he protests.
Daisy scrutinizes him with a hard glare that quickly proves her point as he sighs and utters, “Yeah, you’re right. Double with cheese.”
Daisy gives his arm a quick pat before heading toward the back kitchen to put our orders in, leaving the three of us at the table. Jake wastes no time catching his dad up.
“A lot of pieces of the puzzle are coming together. We know who’s driving the sale now.”
Roddy cuts his eyes toward Jake, then glances at me, a look of quiet approval on his face. “I commend you for listening before overreacting, son. You’re learning.”
Jake lets out a rolling laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wish I could say I didn’t overreact, but I may have blown my stack just a bit in the parking lot.”
I nudge his ribs with my elbow, cracking a smile. “You think?”
Roddy shakes his head, offering me a sympathetic look. “I apologize for my caveman son, Campbell.”
“Don’t be.” I glance at Jake’s profile, his angular jaw covered in a day’s worth of stubble. “I actually like his passion for his family.”
The two men share a brief, silent look across the table. It’s a quiet exchange, but it warms me from the inside out. I can literally see them mending the fractured pieces of their relationship, brick by brick.
Roddy leans in, and I do the same. I’m not sure why this feels like we’re about to swap secrets, but I scan the nearby tables just to be sure there aren’t any ears eavesdropping. Not that anyone could hear a conversation a table away in this place right now.
“You sure your dad’s firm is pushing this through under the table?”
Roddy’s eyes lock onto mine, and my body rushes with guilt by association. I want to apologize for my father’s lack of empathy and singular focus on the almighty dollar. Instead, though, I nod and mutter, “Yep.”
“You think maybe you could leak some of these filings to the press? Get ahead of the narrative?” He stops himself, his expression tight with a sudden flash of regret. “I’m sorry. Idon’t mean to suggest you do anything unethical or jeopardize your career.”
A small, liberated smile touches my lips. “Zero ethics crossed, Roddy. I quit tonight.”
I fill him in on my decision to walk away from the Texas VP offer, making a few blunt mentions of how forever disappointed I am in my father’s underhanded tactics. Jake listens quietly for a moment before sliding out of the booth to head to the restroom, leaving Roddy and me alone at the table.
The noise of the bar fades into the background as Roddy looks at me, his eyes filled with a warm but weathered understanding. I wish my own father could look at me like this.
“I know a thing or two about strained relationships with your child, Campbell. And yeah . . . we are always children to our parents, no matter how old we get.” A sudden chuckle rattles in his chest. “My dad is seventy years old, and he still tries to get me in a headlock and wrestle me to the ground every time he sees me.”
I laugh softly, looking down at my hands folded on the table. “Your family sounds nice. Truly. My mom lives in a corporate bubble that only cares about the fancy parties my father’s legal status affords her. And my dad . . . he completely quit seeing me as an individual the day my brother died.”
Roddy’s expression softens. “I’m sorry you lost a sibling. That must be incredibly hard.”
