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“In the end, you’re yourself, and that’s what I love. What I’ve always loved.”
“I’ve never felt…very loved.”
“I know, and I didn’t—I couldn’t figure out how to change that, so I tried to compensate by being scrupulous about your career. I needed to convince myself I was doing my best for you, but all the time I knew it wasn’t good enough. Not even close.”
Pity welled inside her, along with sadness for what she’d missed, and a certainty that her mother, the woman he’d described, would have hated seeing him like this.
He picked up his glasses. Rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Watching you after Lance left, seeing how you were suffering and not being able to comfort you. I wanted to kill him. And then your marriage to Bram. I can’t forget the past, but I know you love him, and I’m trying.”
A protest sprang to her lips. She bit it back. “Dad, I understand I hurt you by telling you I need to run my own career, but I just…want you to be my father.”
“You’ve made that clear.” He took the bench across from her, looking more troubled than offended. “Here’s my problem. I know this town too well. Maybe it’s ego on my part, or maybe overprotection, but I don’t trust anybody else to put your interests first.”
Something he’d always done, she realized, even if she hadn’t always agreed with the results. “You’re going to have to trust me,” she said gently. “I’ll ask for your opinion, but the final decisions—right or wrong—are going to be mine.”
He gave a slow, unsteady nod. “I suppose it’s time.” He bent down and picked up what used to be her camera. “Sorry about this. I’ll buy you another.”
“It’s okay. I have a spare.”
Silence fell between them. Awkward, but they stuck it out.
“Georgie…I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but it seems…” He toyed with the empty camera body. “There’s a remote possibility—very remote—that I might…have my own career to concentrate on.”
He told her about Laura’s visit, her insistence on taking him on as her client, and the acting classes he’d begun attending. He seemed both embarrassed and a little bewildered.
“I’d forgotten how much I love it. I feel like I’m finally doing what I should have been doing all along. As though I’ve…come home.”
“I don’t know what to say. It’s wonderful. I’m shocked. Thrilled.” She touched his hand. “You were brilliant that night we read Tree House, and I never told you. I guess you’re not the only one who’s been holding back. When do you audition? Tell me more.”
He did, summarizing the script and the character, telling her about his first class. As she witnessed his animation, she felt as though she were watching a man beginning to free himself from an emotional prison.
The conversation shifted to Laura. “I can’t blame her for hating me.” Georgie’s guilt reemerged. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done it, but I wanted a clean start, and I didn’t see any other way.”
“You’re going to have a hard time believing this, but Laura seems to be okay with what you did. Don’t ask me to understand it. You’ve thrown a major monkey wrench into her income, but instead of being depressed, she’s—I don’t know—excited—energized—I’m not sure what to call it. She’s an unusual woman, a lot gutsier than I gave her credit for. She’s…interesting.”
Georgie looked at him sharply. He rose from the bench. Another awkward silence fell. He rested his hand on the side of a column. “Where do we go from here, Georgie? I’d like to be the father you want, but it seems a little late in the game. I don’t have a clue how to go about it.”
“Don’t look at me. I’m emotionally traumatized from all those beatings you gave me.” Once a smart aleck, always a smart aleck, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say except that she wanted him to hug her, just put his arms around her. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Unless you want to start off with some kind of lame hug.”
To her surprise, his eyes closed in pain. “I—don’t think I remember how.”
His total helplessness touched her. “Maybe you could give it a try.”
“Oh, Georgie…” His arms shot out. He pulled her against him and squeezed her so hard her ribs ached. “I love you so much.” He tucked her head against his jaw and started rocking her as if she were a child. It was clumsy, uncomfortable, and wonderful.
She burrowed into his shirt collar. This wasn’t easy for him or for her. She’d have to lead the way, but now that she understood where his heart lay, she didn’t mind at all.
Chapter 22
The gray stone Eldridge Mansion had served as the setting for a dozen movies and television shows, but no one had ever seen the portico with two canopied entryways. The larger and more ornate, a pristine white canopy marked THE SCOFIELDS, led to the main entrance. A smaller green canopy positioned off to the side was marked servants only.
The guests laughed as they emerged from their limos, Bentleys, and Porsches. In the spirit of the party, those garbed in gowns and tuxedos, tennis whites or Chanel suits, stuck their noses in the air and headed for the main entrance, but Jack Patriot was no dummy. The legendary rock star, wearing his most comfortable jeans and a work shirt, with a pair of gardening gloves and some seed packets tucked in his belt, cheerfully made his way to the servants’ entrance, his wife at his side. April’s simple black housekeeper’s dress would have been plain if she hadn’t modified it for the occasion with a boned bodice and plunging neckline. A pair of skeleton keys dangling from a black silk cord nestled into her cleavage, and she’d pulled her long blond hair into a soft and very sexy bun.
Rory Keene, in a modest version of a French maid’s costume, joined Jack and April at the servants’ entrance along with Rory’s date for the evening, a debonair venture capitalist attired in a butler’s uniform. He was Rory’s customary companion for special occasions, a friend but not a lover.
Meg’s parents used the main entrance. Actor-playwright Jake Koranda wore a garden-party white suit that accented his swarthy skin, and his wife, the glorious Fleur Savagar Koranda, modeled a swirly floral chiffon frock. Meg, who was dressed as Scooter’s hippie best friend, Zoey, elected to go through the servants’ entrance with her date for the evening, an unemployed musician who was a ringer for John Lennon, circa 1970.
Chaz stood just inside the ballroom, wondering why she’d let Georgie choose her costume. Now here she was, dressed like a frigging angel, in a glittery silver gown with a halo attached to a big orange wig. If she lifted her eyes, she could even see a few orange curls dripping over her eyebrows. The inspiration had come from episode thirteen, “Skip Has a Dream.” When Chaz had bitched to Georgie about the costume, Georgie had given her this weird smile and said Chaz was an angel in disguise. What the hell did that mean?
