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“I hope he doesn’t hate me. My mom has lied to him so much. I took photos of the unopened letters I case he doesn’t believe me. Originally, I was doing it in case I needed them as proof that my mother’s been stealing my mail. At this point, I don’t even care about the crap she’s been pulling. I just want to get to know him.”
“I can’t imagine how that would feel. I’m both happy and sad for you.”
“I know… me too. Oh, and his letters also mentioned some things that were pretty curious. Apparently, I’ve had a trust fund all these years that I’ve known nothing about, and I have money in various accounts—somewhere. It sounds like he’s been my sole support. It wasn’t my mother after all. She’s such aliar!She led me to believe she had rich parents, though she’d never tell me anything about them or why their money came to her in the first place.”
“It sounds like you’re going to have a lot of questions for the guy when you see him. I hope he’s understanding.”
“I do too. So, tell me what you and the guys have been up to? Everything okay on the home front?”
“We’re doing fine. My new class is off to a good start. When I got home, the dogs and I ran around in the leaves for about an hour so I could wear them out. I think they miss you and Weston as much as I do though.”
We chat about all kinds of things for a while until I’m stifling a yawn when Callum says, “Petra, I know it’s not all that late in Chicago, but you guys left at the crack of dawn this morning, andyou’re obviously dead on your feet. You and Weston need to get a good night’s sleep tonight before you tackle meeting your dad.”
“You’re probably right.” I turn and see a familiar face smiling at me as he approaches. “Oh, here’s Weston now.” He sits down next to me, and I hand him an earbud. For the next half hour or so, we talk until we’re all yawning our heads off.
“We’ll probably see you tomorrow unless something unforeseen happens,” Weston tells Callum. “You never know.”
“Best of luck,” Callum says. “I love you both.”
We echo his endearment and disconnect the call.
By the timeWeston and I hit the bed, we’re both nearly down for the count. We snuggle together and, even though I expected to have a million thoughts running through my head, his warm comfort spreads through me like a tranquilizer. The last thing I remember is his kiss and loving whispers that he’s proud of me and loves me. I’m asleep in less than a minute.
Thirty-Eight
Weston
“Morning,sleepyhead. I guess I didn’t get lucky after all last night. Tell me honestly, was it the garlic bread?”
Petra warms my heart with her soft laughter as she answers, “We shared that bread, silly. I’m sorry I passed out.”
“No worries. I was right behind you. Are you ready to meet your father this morning?”
“After a shower and at least three cups of strong coffee, yes.” She looks thoughtful as she asks, “Do you think we ought to check out of the room or book it for another night?”
“Mm… let’s take our stuff since we have so little with us, and if we need to check out and head home, I can do it from my phone. Are you going to tell good old Wally he can have what’s in the locker?”
“No. I’ve been thinking it would be wise to take a second look. I’d hate to miss anything because we were in a rush and getting too cold.”
I nod thoughtfully. “Maybe your dad might know something. There was some… ah… funky costume jewelry that I discounted,but maybe I was wrong, and it was stuff that was actually worth something. Perhaps we should hire someone to haul the boxes to the house where we can be more systematic and careful.”
“Good idea. It’s hard for me to believe she paid to have just a bunch of trash stored. The boxes and furniture won’t all fit in your car anyway. It’s possible there was more of value than we originally thought. I just wanted to get out of there.”
I notice that Petra seems to be fussing with her appearance this morning. She’s fiddling with her hair and putting on makeup—something she rarely uses and doesn’t need. I’m frankly surprised she had any in her travel bag. So I tell her, “You’re incredibly beautiful, sweetheart. Don’t worry. If he expects perfect hair and makeup, he’s not worth it. You always look perfect to Callum and me.”
We plugthe address into the GPS and are not terribly surprised when it leads us to one of the nicest neighborhoods in all of Chicago. I pull into the spacious driveway of a mammoth house and look at Petra. She looks… well… petrified. “Are you ready?” I ask needlessly.
Taking a deep breath she asks, “You’ll stay right next to me the whole time?”
“Of course. You know that. It’s going to be just fine.”
I step out of the car and round it to her side, but when I open her door, she seems frozen to the spot. “It’s alright. You’re going to be great. He’ll be happy to see you. Come on, sweetheart.” I extend my hand and take hold of her trembling one. Finally, she steps out and silently we head for the massive front door.
After ringing the bell, we hear a deep couple of woofs that sound like a giant dog. Then we wait and wait until we hear quickfootsteps approaching. The door swings open, and I feel Petra deflate. There is no way this man is her father. He’s an attractive Asian man, probably not much older than us. He has a friendly face, however, and smiles at her. Standing quietly next to him is a gorgeous and stately brindle Great Dane.
“Sorry to bother you, sir, but we’re looking for Jameson Harvey. Does he still live here?” she asks in a shaky voice.
“Petra!” he exclaims. “I would know you anywhere. Your father isn’t home right now, but come in, and let me get you a refreshment. Coffee? Tea? I’m so sorry Jameson missed you.” He opens the door and beckons us in, saying happily, “Don’t mind Storm here. He hasn’t eaten anyone in weeks. Seriously, he’s a giant softy.”
