Harlequin Superromance February 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: His Forever Girl\Moonlight in Paris\Wife by Design (23 page)

She shrugged. “Drove around for a while, looking for a spot I could breathe in. My car took me here.”

Thank God.
Frank patted the bench. “You can sit.”

“I'm good. How are you feeling?”

“Like I've been pumped full of chemicals.”

“Yeah,” she said, her brow furrowing. “Mom said the doctors haven't said much.”

“Gotta do a scan to check on the cells or something like that.” He brushed the matter away with his hand. He didn't want to talk about being sick, but he didn't know how to bring up what sat between them.

“I'm sorry, Dad.”

For what? His cancer? Quitting Ullo? Not speaking to him for over a month?

“About a lot of stuff,” she clarified, looking down at her hands. Then she glanced around. “Guess our backyard has always been the go-to place when you need to talk. When you need to think. Maybe I knew I could breathe here.”

Frank looked around. “And sweat. I'm about to burn slap up sitting out here and the mosquitos are eating on me. Wanna go inside to the other place where family problems are solved to have this conversation?”

“The kitchen?” Tess asked, a small smile creeping out.

Frank struggled to his feet, and Tess rushed to grab his elbow. He patted her arm. “I'm good. A little weak still, but not as bad as I was last week. This shit really did a number on me. Guess I ain't too tolerant of chemo.”

Tess's face crumpled. “Dad...”

“None of that. We gotta talk about what happened, Tess. We got a lot of words to say and I can't say 'em if you start blubbering. You know what your tears do to me.”

Tess managed a shaky smile. “Think that's the problem to begin with, huh?”

“A little.”

Together they moved toward the back door, each with much to say, but for a moment content to feel the other's presence. Shoulder to shoulder, they walked. Father and daughter—more alike than either wanted to admit.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

T
ESS
POURED
SOME
LEMONADE
in a tall glass and handed it to her father, glad to have something to occupy her hands. He waved it away, sinking on a bar stool with a small sigh.

He didn't look good, but she supposed after all the rounds of chemotherapy he'd undergone, he wasn't supposed to. His body was at war, so he wasn't exactly up for running marathons. His craggy face with the large Italian nose, so dear to her, held a pall, the wrinkles more pronounced, and his salt-and-pepper hair more salt now.

She knew why she'd come. After the drama in her office with Monique...after the realization of what she'd given up, she'd come home not to lick her wounds but repair one still bleeding.

Or maybe it was more she needed to loosen the knots she'd tied around herself, but she wasn't here to ask her father to fix anything in her life. She was here to make things right.

“Mom and I had a long talk,” Tess said, pulling the cool glass to her place as she sank onto the stool opposite her father.

“She told me but didn't say much else,” Frank said, playing with the bobbing rooster her mother had bought at a flea market one summer. “I didn't ask her. I knew you needed some time to figure things out.”

“I've had plenty of time,” Tess said, in the quiet of the kitchen. “I'd graduated into avoidance. Sorry I didn't return your calls. I didn't know what to say.”

Her father looked at her. “None of this has been easy, has it? I'm still trying to get my footing. Thing is, I may never be rock-solid again.”

Tess put her hand over his worn, calloused one. “Don't say it like that, Daddy.”

“Baby, I ain't afraid of dying. I just don't want to leave all of you behind. But the good Lord might just be ready for me up there. I've come to terms with that, Therese. I have.”

“I haven't,” she said. His words ripped into her, shredding her heart. She couldn't grasp the concept of her father dying. She refused to.

“I know, honey, but dying isn't as scary as living sometimes. I have faith there's a place for me, and I'll be waiting in glory for all of you. Maybe not my own mama 'cause she might not make it past St. Peter.” He gave her a sad wink.

Tess managed a small smile. “She'd probably tell God how to run the joint. You know she still writes her congressman about daylight saving time?”

For a moment they both smiled through the pain.

“But I'm not just sorry about your getting sick, Daddy. I'm sorry about everything that happened when you gave Graham the position of CEO. I didn't think before I acted, and, honestly, put myself in a bad situation.”

Frank shook his head. “Ah, Tess, I didn't handle it right, either. I was a coward, plain and simple. Everything in life was suddenly so hard, so scary. I knew I couldn't undergo all the procedures and chemotherapy and still run the company. It broke my heart.” Her father's voice quivered and Tess couldn't stop a lone tear from trailing down her cheek. Swiping it away, she realized she'd never stopped to think about how hard handing over his company, virtually his baby, must have been for him. She'd never even considered how being given a virtual death sentence had affected her father. She'd only thought of herself.

“I didn't know, Dad.”

“I know you didn't. Once I found out about the cancer, I didn't tell anyone for several days...not even your mother or Joe. This horrible thing grew inside me, twisting around this selfish need to pretend like everything was okay. At first, I planned on not telling anyone at all. Just thought I'd ride it out until the end and then cash my check. I didn't want to put anyone through all the crap that comes with the fight. But I changed my mind the day we rolled Bacchus out. You remember?”

She did. That Sunday had been perfect. Maggie had brought them a big picnic basket and she and her father had sat in the parade stand, each connected with their guys coordinating the tractors. Last-minute emergency work was handled by Red Jack and Bennie B so Tess, Dave and her father had been able to enjoy the fruits of their labor. All her brothers and their families had been there, each bringing a picnic basket full of New Orleans favorites, including a huge cinnamon-and-sugar king cake. The weather had been mild, no floats had broken down and the excitement in the air had been electric. It had been a while since Tess had enjoyed herself like that at a parade. “It was perfect.”

“Yeah, the floats looked great and there were so few hiccups. I laughed for the first time since the doc sat me down with that news.” Frank smiled as if sucked back into the memory. “You laughed a lot, too, and it was good to see you happy. That Nick fellow had pissed you off over Christmas and then the season hit and we were too busy to think, much less smile. I remember watching you and your mama that day, flirting for beads and dancing to the music. At the end of the parade, you laid your head on your mama's shoulder and she kissed your forehead. That was when I knew I had to fight, and I knew I'd have to make some tough decisions.”

Tess dropped her gaze because it hurt to think about that moment, hurt to know the burden her father had carried.

“I've always been proud you wanted to do what I do, Tess. We make magic. We make people happy. That's a satisfying feeling. I hadn't planned on retiring this soon, and I'll be honest, I thought with a little more tempering and the right crew around you, you'd be fine running the company. But I didn't think you were ready. I'm not saying you had to have a business degree, but you didn't have a clue what I do on my end. I thought if I could find a guy—”

“Or girl?” Tess added.

“Maybe. There aren't many women in this business, Tess. Well, at least not many running the show, no how. But I wasn't against hiring a woman—I wasn't against anyone who could do a good job. I wanted to find someone who could easily do what I do and leave you to do what you do.” Frank spread his hands, and Tess was able to climb over the fence and see it from his side. He hadn't wanted her stressed. He'd tried to take care of her even then.

“So when the headhunter guy called me and sent me Naquin's resume, it was like being handed a lottery ticket with the winning numbers. He was a perfect fit—young, experienced and had listed New Orleans as his ideal relocation area. I thought I was doing you a favor, keeping you from worrying so much when I wasn't around. But I also knew you'd be mad at me. And that's when I got chicken.”

“But you should have told me. You should have given me the benefit of knowing before he got there, not send me off with Granny B so I wouldn't know.”

“Yeah, I should have, but I think, as your mother told you, I'm not good at telling you no, baby. You've talked me into about anything you've wanted all your life. I gained five pounds one summer on those Plum Street Snoballs alone. What you wanted, you got.”

She'd gotten on a Snoball kick one summer between seventh and eighth grade, wanting one after every soccer practice. Her father had dutifully driven her to get her blackberry with crème.

Frank continued. “I loved giving you things, but when you're facing a crypt down the road there—” he pointed toward the huge cemetery sitting a few miles down Metairie Road “—you start looking at things differently. You start doubting all the decisions you made, wondering if you'd given your kids and wife what they really needed all this time.”

For a moment he paused. “I don't think I did that bad. I'm not perfect and, yeah, I screwed this the hell up, but when I thought about just giving you the position, it felt wrong.”

A fishhook of hurt snagged inside her soul. “I wanted to be good enough.”

“Ah, Tess, you know that's not it. Don't make it that. You're brilliant at what you do, but I decided as soon as you came aboard, this was a business that needed a partnership to run it. You taught me that, so I thought I'd replaced myself with a guy who could balance you out. He seemed a lot like me. Determined and smart, but not too hardass.”

Tess's heart leaped at those words. A partnership with Graham.... It fit in more than just a business sense. What if her dad had seen beyond the business to who she needed in her life—a man who balanced her?

Not a pretty rich boy with little stickability like Nick. Not the half dozen other guys she'd dated—an attorney in Gigi's office, a hairstylist from the Westbank or the guy who said he was an officer in the Navy but really just worked at the base—but a guy who had a passion for doing what she did. A guy who balanced out her creativity with a nose for business. A guy who looked pretty damn spectacular in the buff, loved his own daughter above all else and wasn't as confident and capable as he portrayed. Like Tess, he wasn't perfect.

But maybe Graham was perfect for her.

“I've screwed up so badly, Dad,” Tess said, emotion snagging in her throat. She couldn't undo what she'd done. She couldn't expect her father to fix what her pride had led her to.

“Maybe not. But you landed a job on your own, and I bet you've learned more working for a smaller company than you ever did working for a bigger one. No one to hand things off to—you had to do it yourself. And Monique's an interesting woman.”

“Monique is a bitch, Dad.”

Frank laughed and for a moment he didn't look sick. Color bloomed into his cheeks and his eyes sparkled. “She's ambitious. I respect that about her. Personally, I never cared about her politics when it came to doing business, but I'm sure she didn't care for mine. She's broken new ground for women in this business and made a better way for you and other little girls who want to build floats and play with the big boys.”

Tess nodded, still miffed over the way Monique had handled the Oedipus deal. “Fine. I'll give her that. She's definitely interesting.”

“So, Tess, do you forgive me for hiring Graham?”

Tess nodded. “Yes. I've had to swallow my pride and admit I can't do all I thought I could. Working for Upstart has taught me a lot about myself. But most of all, I've learned to accept my flaws and to just keep swimming when the current gets rough. Never had to do that before.”

Frank lifted his hands and beckoned her. “Come here, my Tess.”

Tess swallowed the lump in her throat and walked around the end of the bar. Her father enveloped her in a strong hug and for a few seconds, Tess lay her head on the man's shoulder, inhaling the Hugo Boss cologne he'd gotten for a “song” at T.J. Maxx and the lavender fabric softener her mother used in the laundry. He smelled like her father. He smelled like all things safe. He smelled like her past and present. Like home. But he'd also given her the scent for her future.

Inhaling once again, she took the deep breath she'd been looking for and exhaled, determined to fix the other parts of her life she'd mishandled.

* * *

G
RAHAM
SAT
AT
HIS
DESK
and stared at the stapler. He'd chosen that particular item at random. He could have stared at the nameplate Billie had stuck on his desk the day before as if she were placing a tiara on the head of a beauty pageant winner. But he didn't want to stare at it. It seemed indefinite, like he might have to toss it in the trashcan at any minute...along with his short-lived reign as CEO of Frank Ullo Float Builders. So the stapler would have to be his focal point while he contemplated his future.

Like he did most days around the end of the workday, Dave popped his head in. “You busy?”

“No. I should be, but I'm contemplating what I'll be qualified for when Frank tosses me out like last week's Chinese.”

Dave settled in the chair opposite him. “Nah, Frank has faith in you, and after your speech last week, we all have that faith in you.”

Had it only been last week? Seemed long ago he'd rallied the troops around pizza and a common objective. “We lost the Oedipus account to Upstart. Miles Barrow just called me.”

Dave's eyes popped wide. “Oh, well, in that case, I'll go get a box for your things.”

Graham shifted his gaze back to the stapler. “Yeah, right.”

Dave sighed. “That's really shitty news. Tess snaked us, huh? I taught that girl too well.”

What to say to that? He didn't want to admit he'd handed over the contract to Upstart by telling Miles about Tess's designs. What stupid-ass CEO would do such a thing? Miles's kind words about his intent and about how Frank would understand did little to buffer the sting of the call he'd just received. He'd known it was likely coming, but the finality of it suckerpunched him in spite of it. “Yeah, she's good. I wish she were still here doing work for us. I tried to talk her into coming back but it did little good. Her pride was pricked and I likely wasn't the right person to persuade her.”

Dave's laugh was bitter. “No kidding. But I'm impressed you went to her and asked her to come back. I like that about you. A little humbleness is welcome around here, you know?”

“All I got left is humbleness,” Graham said.

“Nah, we got plenty of business. I talked to some krewes out of Houma and Lake Charles today that want new marque floats and we're working hard to keep our regular customers happy. I won't lie and say Oedipus wasn't a loss, but we'll be okay.” Dave stood and perused the schedule board Graham had mounted on the wall. “Might not be the best of times to ask, but we really need someone to help me. Honestly, the part of the job Tess did as liaison with the other directors and captains was never something I wanted to do. Tess was good with them, keeping them happy, making sure the vision fit actuality, so if you could shift that job requirement over to the new guy, I'll keep the lion's share of the design work. And my pay raise.”

Graham rubbed a hand over his face. “Anyone in house capable of doing the job?”