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“I have. But—”
Resigned, he waved off her excuses. “It’s your life. Just use your head.”
“Always do, Dad.”
“Oh, honey, I wish I could believe that.”
“Trust me.”
“She’s a grown woman,” Brynnie reminded him. “And I’m not so sure either you or I are the right ones to be handing out advice.” She struck a match and drew long on her cigarette.
John’s jaw hardened. “I just don’t want her to make the same mistakes I did.”
“Or Margaret did,” Brynnie said, shooting a geyser of smoke from the corner of her mouth.
“I won’t.” Rather than continue the no-win argument, Bliss headed for the den. She heard Brynnie defending Mason and her father going through the roof. The happiness he was certain he would find with his bride-to-be seemed to fade with each passing day, and Bliss doubted he’d find the peace he was so determined to have.
“You should never have sold out to him,” her father was saying as Bliss walked the length of the house.
“It was my right.”
“Like hell. I’ve half a mind to call the son of a bitch myself.”
“Now, John, don’t get all worked up.…”
Bliss closed the door to the den behind her and leaned against the cool panels. What a mess. It seemed that John and Brynnie were forever at each other’s throats. A match made in heaven, it wasn’t.
But her part in it would soon be over; then they could fight it out like cats and dogs if they wanted to. Bliss only had to put up with a few more weeks of living with all this tension. Then, the Good Lord willing and true love, if that’s what you’d call it, winning out, her father would be married. Bliss would return to Seattle.
For a reason she couldn’t name, the thought of heading back to her apartment overlooking Puget Sound settled like lead in her heart.
Because of Mason. Because you can’t forget him and because you haven’t had it out with him. Face it, Bliss, what you really want while you’re down here is to find out why he abandoned you—why he ran away and why, when you cared for him so deeply, he didn’t return your love.
* * *
“All I’m saying, Lafferty, is that you had no right!”
Mason held the telephone receiver away from his ear as John Cawthorne, swearing and yelling, told him seven ways to go to hell for buying out Brynnie’s portion of the land. Though it had been days since the old man had found out, he was still furious and had, apparently, had another fight with his bride-to-be over the situation.
“I don’t like anyone sneaking around my back, dealing with a woman, playing on her emotions. You’re a snake, Lafferty, and I’ll see your sorry backside in court, let me tell you.”
“Fine.”
“If you think I’m going to sell my part of the ranch, you’d better think again! And stay away from my daughter. You’re not going to use Bliss to get to me!”
A quiet anger stole through Mason’s blood. “I wouldn’t.”
“Sure. Like you wouldn’t use Brynnie! Hell, Lafferty, you’d sell your own mother if you thought it would bring you a little profit in the future!”
Mason’s jaw tightened and his knuckles showed white on the receiver at the mention of his mother’s name.
“You’re not going to pull a fast one on me, y’know,” Cawthorne was yammering.
“Just think about the deal, Cawthorne,” he said, managing to keep his voice calm, though images of his mother, sad and old beyond her years, cut through his mind like razors. “That’s all that matters.”
“Like hell.” Cawthorne slammed down the receiver.
“Great. Just great.” Mason hung up and stood, stretching the tension out of the tight muscles of his back. Why the old man could get to him was a mystery.
