Page 68 of Solo

“Oh, well, you have my dark hair, but it’s her coloring and her eyes that I’m looking at right now. And the fine features. Oh yes, you remind me so much of Elaine, it’s remarkable.”

I feel the blush rising to my cheeks, but I can tell by the wonderment in his eyes that he means it.

“So,” I begin awkwardly, “should we sit?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, jumping to pull out my chair for me. I allow him to push me to the table.

“How have you been, Daddy?” I ask over the hurricane candle and breadbasket once we’re both seated again.

“Very well, thank you. And you? I know you’ll be graduating in a couple of months. Is there much for you to do between now and then? Final exams, that sort of thing?”

I’m not surprised he knows that I’m about to graduate, but I am surprised that he cares enough to ask.

“Oh, uh, well, there’s a lot, actually. Just about a month of classwork, then I’ll conduct a big concert and then it’s my oral exams. I’ll face a panel of three professors and answer questions taken from pretty much every class I’ve ever had.”

“Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you.” He grins. “But then, you’ve always risen to the toughest challenges. I really do appreciate you taking the time to see me, Katherine.”

“You’re welcome. I was surprised to hear from Leandra,” I admit, plucking a piece of semolina bread from the basket and slathering it in butter.

“You mean The Ice Queen?” he asks with a smirk. “You do still call her that, don’t you?”

“Maybe…” I hedge with a sheepish smile.

“Well, she and I were both disappointed you weren’t able to attend the town hall on campus. That was one of the reasons I agreed to do it—because it was being held here at Shepherd. I was hoping to give you a shout-out from the stage.”

Somehow, the phrase “shout-out” just sounds wrong coming out of my father’s mouth. I’m guessing The Ice Queen told him it would play well with the millennials.

“Yeah, I figured. To be honest with you, that’s why I didn’t go.”

“What? You can’t tell me you’re shy. Not when you conduct in front of hundreds of people.”

He’s teasing, but I’m still stuck in serious mode.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to hear you speak, Daddy. It’s just that I’m a very private person. I’d rather not advertise my identity to the few people in town who don’t know who I am.”

His brow furrows but he holds his thought when a server returns with my glass of wine. “I see. Are you ashamed of being my daughter then?”

“What? No, of course not. I love you, Daddy. I’m just trying to say that it’s one thing for people to know I’m a student somewhere on campus. It’s another thing for them to recognize me in the parking lot or in the dining hall. You’re—you’re not very well-liked, Daddy, and sometimes people can say some nasty things. I’m sure you can understand why I’d prefer to keep a low profile.”

“I do understand that, Kate. And I can respect that. But I’m a little confused, surely, you must have so many friends that everyone knows who you are, regardless. I mean, you always did have a huge social circle. How could people not know who you are?”

“Daddy, I don’t really have any friends.”

“Oh, please, Katherine. You’re the most outgoing, friendly young woman there could be. You’ve been like that since you were a little girl.”

“Yes, but I’m not a little girl anymore, Daddy,” I remind him with a little too much edge in my tone. “In fact, it’s not just that I don’t have friends. I’m actively disliked by most of my classmates.”

He considers me for a long beat.

“I’m sorry that’s turned out to be the case, Katherine. But now you can appreciate the kind of resistance I get from my colleagues.”

I swallow the snort that threatens to rise out of my chest. I have the inexplicable desire to hurt him, to make him see and hear and feel all the challenges I’ve had to overcome simply for being his daughter.

“Yes, well, I’m not a politician. I didn’t ask for this kind of scrutiny.”

“Of course not,” he says with a hint of irritation.

“And I’m sure you can understand how the whole defunding the arts thing—that doesn’t go over well with the other music students. Or faculty. And since I refuse to comment on you or your politics, well, let’s just say it doesn’t make me the most popular girl on campus.”