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Her father was always classy and distinguished, and today he wore a navy pinstripe suit with a silver tie and a pocket square.
Sienna slid into the circular booth. He’d suggested an exclusive restaurant atop one of the city’s leading business buildings. It wasn’t listed on any tourist sites, designed for the upper echelon of business people, the cream that rose to the top of San Francisco Bay Area elite. The waitstaff, male and female, were impeccably dressed in suit and tie. The tables were draped in damask, the flower arrangements fragrant and low-slung to afford conversation without obstruction.
She’d been here only once, when Matthew joined her father’s firm. Dad had invited her along for the lunch, flaunting the perks Matthew received and once again making her feel unwanted.
His smile was perfect, veneers he’d put on a year ago. Just after the divorce. As if he wanted to make sure the deduction didn’t go on their joint tax return.
Her skin was no longer livid with anger. She’d banked her rage. If she’d gone to him right after seeing Mr. Smithfield, she would have lost her cool and come out the loser.
“I’m so glad you called,” her father said, his voice amiable.
He hadn’t risen to kiss her cheek. They weren’t that kind of family, never had been. She hadn’t known her paternal grandparents well. They’d both died when she was young. But she had an impression of austere natures and the need to be quiet when she was around them. Her father, the only child of those somber people, was the least demonstrative man she knew, even with Bron, though he tolerated her touches and hugs and kisses. She wondered how long that would last after the wedding. Maybe he thought she’d be too busy with the new baby to care.
“Thank you for meeting me.” She kept her voice upbeat, not wanting to give him time to form a strategy to deal with her.
She ordered a champagne cocktail while her father liked Campari and soda. Maybe the bitterness agreed with him. And maybe that was her bitterness talking. They ordered when the drinks arrived, and her father continued when they were alone again.
“I know Brianna has asked you again to be in the wedding.” She hadn’t thought he’d address it, but she nodded for him to go on. “I’m sure it seems like I told a lie, but I didn’t want a big mess on our hands on the wedding day.” He reared back slightly to look down his nose. “You know how your mother can be.”
She couldn’t resist saying, “No, I don’t really know how my mother can be in this situation.”
He nodded, blinking a long moment, like an animal with double lids. “Let’s just say that she’s volatile and likes to play games. I wanted to avoid that. I hope you understand.”
Sienna smiled. “Oh, Dad,” she said in a gentle, almost playful tone. “I think you know how to play games better than anyone.”
He smiled with her. As if he had no clue what was going on in her head. Maybe she was that good an actress.
“I’m terribly sorry about the job as well.” He reached out, stopping a scant inch from where her hand was fisted on the table. “There’s always a place for you at Walker and Walker.”
She dipped her head so he couldn’t see her eyes. “If I came, would you change it to Walker, Walker, and Walker? Or Walker and Family? Or maybe just…” She trailed off, shrugged. “Maybe you want to keep Walker and Walker, the good old boys’ club.”
His smile faded over his pearly veneers. “There is no good old boys’ network at Walker and Walker. You should know that.”
“But there is a good old boys’ network between all the top financial firms in the city, isn’t there.” She said it flatly, turning it into a statement, not a question.
The hazel of his eyes steeled into something close to gray. “Of course. Isn’t that why you had me call Smithfield? To give you a leg up?”
“That’s exactly why I asked you to talk to him.” She smiled without a hint of her inner feelings, and it seemed to make him relax. “I’m sure Matthew told you they hired some nimrod he knew in university.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “He couldn’t be a nimrod if Smithfield chose him over you. He must have had some redeeming qualities. Although I can’t understand what.” The veneers popped out again.
“Did you know that Mr. Smithfield likes to run along the marina down to Fort Mason?”
He stumbled at the abrupt change in topic, his mouth slightly ajar. “He’s quite trim, but I thought he was more a gym man.”
“Like you?”
He nodded, his eyes hooded as he tried to gauge where she was going. “And you’ll be free to use our gym anytime. We’ve also got a pool, a sauna, a whirlpool tub, and a masseuse on staff. All perks of being on the Walker and Walker team.”
She didn’t let the perks distract her. “I often like a run out to Fort Mason too.”
The drumming on the table stopped as he contemplated the implications. Their entrées arrived, and she smiled at the waiter as he set her lobster salad in front of her.
Her father had grilled salmon on a bed of steamed vegetables. At fifty-five, with a fiancée young enough to be his daughter, he was looking out for his weight. No more strictly meat and potatoes for him.
“How interesting,” he said without inflection. His fork sliced through the salmon, and he speared a broccoli floret as well.
She savored a bite of lobster, then said, “I wouldn’t have recognized him. You know how it is when you see people out of context.” She waited for that to sink in, but her father’s gaze didn’t flicker. “But he recognized me. I have no idea why. Maybe it was because of your phone call.” Her smile felt stretched across her face.
