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He took her face between his hands and kissed her on both cheeks. “What time is your flight?”
“I’ve barely got time to make it.” Plagued by guilt for lying to him, she embraced him tightly. She squeezed her eyes closed and wasn’t surprised to feel tears in them. “You’re my best friend, Dad. I love you very much.”
“And I love you, Maris.” He set her away from him so he could look into her face. “More than you could ever know.”
Chapter 21
Parker answered the door. For several moments he looked at her blankly. Finally he said, “Did you forget something?”
“Very cute.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you going to ask me in?”
He hesitated as though thinking it over, then pushed his chair backward into the foyer, giving her room to step inside. “Where’s Mike?”
“He went to the mainland for groceries, toilet paper, stuff like that.”
“And left you here alone?”
“I’m not helpless,” he said in what amounted to a snarl. “I lived by myself before Mike came onboard. Besides, I’m not alone.”
He was with a woman.
Maris realized now that all the signs were there. Mike was away. Parker’s shirt was unbuttoned, and his hair was more disheveled than usual. “I’m sorry. I… I should have called before I came.”
“Yeah, you should have,” he said crossly. “But since you’ve made the trip, you might just as well come on in. We’re in here.”
He wheeled his chair around and rolled it into the dining room. Reluctantly Maris followed, wishing there were a way she could turn and run without looking like a coward. Short of that, she wished she didn’t have to meet his lady friend looking so bedraggled.
She wasn’t up to an introduction to anyone, but especially not to a woman that Parker had invited over for some afternoon delight. The skirt of her linen suit was badly wrinkled. There was a run in her stocking. The raincoat, which she had needed in New York, was as out of place here as a snorkel mask in the Sahara.
She stood her suitcase in the foyer and folded her coat over it, then combed her fingers through her hair, which had been wind-damaged during the boat ride over from the mainland. There was no time for further repair. Fortifying herself with a deep breath, she stepped through the arched opening between the hallway and dining room.
Her primping had been unnecessary. Except for Parker, the room was empty. She looked at him inquisitively. “Up there,” he said, motioning with his chin.
“I’ve noticed it swaying before,” she told him, looking overhead at the chandelier. “It catches the current from the air-conditioning vent.”
“Reasonable explanation. But wrong. It’s the hanging ghost.”
She expelled a short laugh. Finding him alone after all had left her feeling a little giddy. “Hanging ghost?”
He proceeded to tell her a tale about a planter who’d fallen on hard times. “His desperate attempts to recoup the family fortune were ill-conceived and only plunged them deeper into financial ruin. He hanged himself right here in the dining room.” Upon reflection, he added, “I trust no one was having dinner at the time.”
“You really believe that his ghost is…” She motioned toward the swaying fixture. “Up there?”
“Hell, yes.”
“It doesn’t bother you to have a ghost residing in your house?”
“He lived here for almost a century before Mike and I moved in.” He shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to mind us, so we ignore him. Ordinarily. Today, he’s kept me company. Pretty damned good conversationalist.”
Maris peered at Parker suspiciously, then her eyes strayed to the open decanter on the sideboard. Coming back to him, she said, “You’re drunk.”
“Not yet.”
“But well on your way.”
