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“Well, you’ll never know unless you go see him. Is there a phone number for him on any of those?”
“No. I looked for it on each one. Nothing. Maybe we can find one online though.”
So we spend a frustrating hour using record searches and come up with nothing. His name comes up in a Google search, however, and he’s listed on LinkedIn as a former CEO of a company called JAH, Inc. We’ve never heard of it, and they oddly don’t have a website. Calling them up turns out to be an exercise in futility, however. No one would give us any information about Jameson Harvey. Either they were protecting his privacy or he’s been gone too long for the people there to know him. When asked the nature of their business, the only answer given was “investments,” and then they disconnected the call.
“Are you brave enough to just show up at his house?” I ask. “Hopefully, he still lives at the same address as what’s on the envelopes.”
“Yes, I guess so. But not today. I need to relax and think about things. We can go tomorrow. You’ll go with me, won’t you?”
“Of course. You don’t even need to ask, Petra.” I think for a minute and ask, “How would you like to go have a quick workout with me in the gym downstairs? After that, we can grab some dinner and then call Callum and fill him in. There’s nothing like exercise for clearing your head.”
Thirty-Seven
Petra
After our workoutand a run on the treadmill, we shower and then go have dinner in a tiny local Italian restaurant. By the time we get back to our room, I’m feeling somewhat normal again—albeit pretty stuffed. Weston is always such good, reassuring company, and I can almost believe that things will go great tomorrow. We’ll find my dad, and all will be forgiven. He’ll be wonderful. I just know it.
I have a dad!
Weston unpacks his laptop to call Callum and suddenly remembers he has a business call he needs to make. “Oh no!” he exclaims, putting his hands to his face, looking likeThe Screamby Edvard Munch. “I forgot Chicago is an hour earlier! I’m late for the counseling call. Oh, just shoot me.”
While he’s frantically setting up for the call, I tell him, “I’m going to head down to the lounge where I can have a drink and call Callum. Your client deserves privacy.” I also grab my laptop in case Callum’s not available, thinking maybe I can get somewriting done until Weston’s free.Yeah, sure… like my head is in a good space for working this evening.
Breaking into my thoughts, Weston tells me, “I’ll be counseling for an hour. Be careful downstairs, sweetheart.” He’s still looking down and fiddling with his earbuds as he says, “Nancy! I’msosorry to be late. I’m traveling and in a different time zone.” He looks up at the screen. “Ah... Nancy, I’m… ah… turning around until you tell me you’ve put on some clothes. We’ve talked about this. I don’t do… ah… naked therapy sessions, and I don’t care how free it makes you feel.”
Thankfully, I can’t hear Nancy’s response through Weston’s earbuds. I smile at him and blow him a kiss. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head as I exit the room. As soon as I close the door, I dissolve into giggles. Weston’s face was as red as a stop sign. He certainly must have some interesting clients.
I order a glass of wine from the bar and then find a secluded corner to sit in. Then it dawns on me that it would still be fun to chat with Callum via FaceTime. I send him a quick text and then locate my earbuds.
Petra: Calling you via FT from a public area. Make sure you’re dressed!
Callum: Oops. Give me a second. ;)
I wait a couple of minutes—just in case—and then give Callum a call. He looks so good when he answers, and he has all three of the dogs squished together next to him so they’re in the picture too—more or less. The sight immediately warms my heart.
“Aw, hi, guys!”
“Hi, Lovergirl. Where’s Loverboy?”
“He’s upstairs talking to a client. He almost forgot about her tonight. I can understand why though. It’s been a long,emotional day for us. I guess he filled you in a little on what we found.”
“All I know is that you found a box of unopened letters from the guy who paid for the condo you lived in. Did you read them?”
“Oh, Callum. I did. It was… amazing and heartbreaking. The letters prove that he’s my father!”
“I’m not surprised. Weston and I had a hunch. What all did he say?”
“I’ll let you read them all when we get back, but the major issue is that he wrote them to me for years, assuming—because my evil-hearted bitch of a mother told him so—that I’d been reading and ignoring his letters the whole time. What my mother didn’t know—because she hid them rather than opening them—is that he also stuffed cash into them. Thousands of dollars’ worth.”
“Wow. I guess it’s a good thing she wasn’t nosier about the contents, or you’d never have found them. It’s kind of a wonder she saved them, even if she never expected you to locate them.”
“Yes, that’s one silver lining. I wonder if she thought she could someday use them as leverage for who-knows-what, or maybe she just forgot she had them. He actually hasn’t written anything for about seven years. Anyway, I’m sure glad I followed a hunch and looked into the contents of that storage unit. Nothing else was the least bit interesting though.” I clear my throat as it begins to close up on me with emotion, and I feel a tear start to roll down my cheek as I tell him, “He sounds like a nice man, Callum. I just can’t imagine what went on between my parents that made him stay away for my whole life. He hadn’t seen me since I was a baby, but he showed up at my high school graduation—something my own mother didn’t bother doing. He just didn’t come and introduce himself to me. Why do you think he’d do that?”
Shaking his head slightly, Callum answers, “Hopefully you can find out. Are you going to track him down?”
“If he still lives at the same address, we’re going to see him tomorrow. I hope he hasn’t moved because he’s a hard guy to locate otherwise.”
“Well, fingers crossed. I hope it works out for you.”
