An overlong moment of silence on Turner’s end. “My daughter? I assume you mean Phee?”
“Yes. You need to tell her everything you told me. She already suspects most of it, and she’s confused and feeling like she’s lost you, along with her mother.”
“Lost me? She told you that?”
“Yes, and why wouldn’t she feel that way?” He braced himself. What the man had done wasn’t right, and Turner needed to know how it was hurting his daughters. Phylicia especially. None of this should have been any of Quinn’s business, but Turner had made it Quinn’s business when he’d confided in him and then kept those same secrets from Phylicia. “Your daughter is an intelligent woman. An adult. Surely you can understand that the things her imagination is conjuring up are far worse than the truth. You need to tell her what you know. What you told me.”
Turner blew a sigh into the phone. “The truth is going to hit her pretty hard.”
“Maybe. But she already suspects the truth. She needs to know what you know. And she needs to hear it from you. And I don’t mind telling you that I don’t appreciate you putting me in the position you did. Having this secret and needing to protect your confidence and—”
“Hey, now. I never asked you to get involved.”
“Actually, yes you did. When you asked me to put your house on the market. When you had me show your daughters the property. Either way, like it or not, I am involved. How did you think I could not be involved after everything you told me? And while we’re at it, I don’t know what you’re doing hiding out in Florida, but your daughters need you. They are hurting here.”
His heart was racing like a speeding train. But he was determined not to hang up until he said what needed saying. He took a deep breath. “I’ve always admired you, Turner, but unless there’s something I don’t understand, you’re blowing it big-time right now.”
Turner sighed. “I’m not sure I’m … strong enough right now.”
“Your daughters don’t care if you’re strong enough. They just want you in their lives. You’ve left them to grieve alone, to sell your house for you, to figure out how to keep you happy and buy the property you wanted them to have. Don’t get me wrong, I was glad to help with some of that …” He forced his voice down a few decibels. He was being pretty hard on a man who was obviously struggling. “I truly was glad to help, Turner, but I can only do so much. And it’s not me they’re aching for.” How he wished it was him that Phylicia longed for.
But right now, despite the fact that she would soon turn thirty, she needed her dad. And if it was the last thing Quinn was allowed to do for her, he would see to it that Turner got his butt in gear and made things right with his daughters. And made amends for bailing on them at the worst possible time.
“I’m struggling, Quinn. This whole grief thing isn’t for the faint of heart. I told myself if I got out of the way, my girls would learn to lean on each other.” Turner sounded cowed. It wasn’t a tone Quinn had ever heard from his boss. “It was an excuse, and I know it, but I really did think it would be better for them if I got out of the way. Given the shape I was in …”
“I don’t know where you got that crazy idea. Your daughters need you, man! I don’t know everything that’s going on with you, but you need to get your act together long enough to be a father to your daughters. If you don’t want to lose them.”
“I’m struggling here, Quinn. I’ve blown it. I know that. But … I think maybe it’s best if I stay out of the way.”
“Whatever you’ve done, your daughters will forgive you. But you’ve got to make things right. And not just with a phone call.”
Silence.
Quinn sighed. “I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped my bounds, but I have some pretty important things at stake here too.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I’m in love with your daughter.” There. He’d said it. “I love Phylicia, but she’s too confused and heartbroken right now to think about anything other than what she’s lost. I don’t mind telling you you’re ticking me off.” He tried to let Turner hear a smile in his voice. But there was too much truth in his words, and he didn’t really feel like smiling.
And no doubt tomorrow, when he got his pink slip, he’d feel even less like it.
“She’s a smart girl, Quinn. She’ll come around. And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have her end up with.”
“Well, I appreciate that, sir. But the ball’s in your court right now.” He didn’t really think Turner would fire him for the things he’d said, but he might have damaged their friendship beyond repair. And his friendship with Turner Chandler was more important than ever, now that Quinn was in love with his daughter.
“Well, then, I’ll see what I can do.” Turner gave a little chuckle … one that made Quinn sigh with relief. The man just might be coming around.
Phylicia hadn’t expected Quinn to show up with the roofing crew Monday morning, but there he was, as if nothing had happened yesterday. She watched him from the kitchen window of the cottage, waving his arms around, telling everybody what they should be doing and how.
He reminded her of Dad on the job. Of course, Quinn had learned from her father.
Her father. Her heart grew heavy at the thought. But she couldn’t let her mind go there right now.
She knew she should go out and talk to Quinn, but he would only wonder what she was trying to accomplish. He’d told her to talk to her father. Well, she’d tried. She’d tried to call Dad again this morning—twice—and had still gotten only his voicemail message.
She could at least tell Quinn that. That she’d tried.
She checked her reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under her eyes testified to her lack of sleep, but no amount of makeup could hide that. She finger-combed her hair and put it back into a messy bun, then headed outside before she lost her nerve.
Two other trucks were in the driveway now, and a crew of men unloaded unwieldy packages of shingles and tarpaper. A couple of the men looked up as she walked toward Quinn, but he had his back to her and seemed unaware of her approach.
“Quinn?”
He turned, and a spontaneous smile bloomed on his face. But then, she could almost see him remembering their conversation from yesterday, and the smile faded as quickly as it had come.
He gave a short wave to the roofing crew and motioned her out of their hearing to the side of the far cabin—the same spot where they’d unloaded sandbags the night of the floods. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
With a questioning look, he removed his cap and waited for her to speak.
She dipped her head before looking back up at him. “I just … wanted to let you know that I’m trying to reach my dad. I tried last night and again this morning, but he’s not answering. I’m starting to get a little worried about him.”
She thought she detected surprise in Quinn’s eyes. “I’m not sure why he’s not answering. But just so you don’t worry … I talked to him last night. I think he’s … okay.”
“Just okay? Why did you hesitate?”
He slapped his cap against one knee. “Phylicia, I hate this wall that’s risen between us. But until you talk to your dad, there’s really nothing else I can say.”
“What if he won’t talk to me? Apparently, he’s ignoring me.”
“I think he’ll call you. I really do. But if he doesn’t, keep trying. You need to talk to him.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“That’s not my intention. I promise you, it’s not.” He bit his lower lip, as if trying to decide whether to say something. Letting out a long, low sigh, he looked at her. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, your dad told me some things he probably shouldn’t have. In his defense, he didn’t know … how I feel about you. He was just getting some things off his chest.” He shook his head. “No, that didn’t come out right. What I mean is, he was just talking to me as a friend, the way we used to talk before everything happened with your mom. I really do think he’s okay
. But, like I said, we talked about things that— Your dad didn’t know what was at stake for me.”
“You will talk to me about it though? After I’ve talked to Dad?”
One side of his mouth rose in a wry smile. “I just hope you’ll talk to me.”
“I will, Quinn. I know I kind of derailed your … speech last night. I feel bad about that.”
“Yeah, well … not as bad as I feel.”
She smiled. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve thought a lot about things. I’m … I’m really confused right now, Quinn. And … I can’t even remember how our conversation took the turn it did. I admit, I’m concerned about what Dad is going to tell me. But Quinn, I meant what I said to you last night. I wasn’t giving you the brush-off when I said that about … just being friends. I can see how you might have thought that, but I promise I wasn’t.”
One eyebrow went up. “I’ll hold you to that.”
She hoped she wasn’t giving him false hope. But she meant what she’d said. She did want to talk to him, to continue the conversation he’d opened up. If they could take it slow, if he would be patient with her, she was starting to think maybe God had a reason for putting Quinn Mitchell in her life right now. A good reason.
“I need to get to the office—and I know you probably need to get to work too—but can you come to the truck for a minute?” He pointed to where his company vehicle was parked a ways down the lane. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
She gave him a questioning look. She hadn’t seen anyone in the vehicle with him when he’d driven in earlier.
Without waiting for her to reply, he started toward the truck. She followed.
He opened the passenger-side door, squatted down, and patted his knee. “Come, girl. Come on …” He gave a low whistle, and a medium-sized, brindle-colored dog shot out of the truck and bounded for Quinn, almost knocking him over.
Phee couldn’t help but laugh. “This must be Hazel.”
“Very funny.” Quinn grinned up at her, clearly getting her joke. “Mabel, meet Phylicia.”
“Hey, Mabel.” She put out a flat hand and took a step toward the dog.
But Quinn held out his palm in warning. “She won’t bite, but you might not want to get too close. She’s in desperate need of a bath. I’m dropping her off at the groomer before I go in to the office. But I thought since I had her with me, it’d be a good chance for you two to meet.”
Phee felt like she’d been offered an olive branch. And she didn’t take it lightly. “I’m not afraid of a little dog stink.” She knelt on one knee and took the dog’s large head between her hands.
Mabel wriggled with pleasure, her tail wagging.
“She’s marked so pretty. What breed is she?”
“Pure mutt. The vet thinks she has some Labrador in her. And maybe a little pit bull.” He looked at Phee as if he thought that might scare her. “Don’t worry. She wouldn’t hurt a flea.”
Phee moved one hand to stroke Mabel’s coat. “Her hair looks like mine.”
Quinn looked askance at her.
“She has flecks of paint in her fur.” Touching her own hair, Phee laughed. “It’s the going style apparently.”
Quinn smiled. “She’s been helping me paint. At my house.”
Phee pulled a tiny chip of paint from the dog’s hair and inspected it. “Great color. Sea salt?”
His eyes went wide. “Exactly. Sherwin Williams. How’d you know?”
“It was one of Mom’s favorite paint colors. We’re using it in all the bedrooms in the cottage. In fact, that’s probably what’s in my hair.” She bent her head toward him, but straightened quickly, feeling awkward.
“Well, good job, Mabel. Way to pick ’em.” He patted her flank, as if Mabel had selected the paint color herself.
Phee laughed, heartened by his response. After yesterday, she’d been so afraid things would be forever awkward between them, but meeting Mabel had broken the ice. She wondered if that had been Quinn’s intent all along.
He straightened and pulled the passenger door all the way open. “Okay, Mabel. Back inside, girl.”
The dog looked like she might balk, but walked to the side of the truck and reluctantly climbed in.
“Wow. You have her well trained. Melvin might need to take a lesson or two from Mabel.”
Quinn chuckled. “I thought about asking if Melvin might want to meet Mabel—”
“What?” She feigned distress. “Your cat-eating dog? I don’t think so.” She couldn’t quell the grin that came.
He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I thought better of it.” His grin matched hers.
But there was something about his demeanor that disturbed her.
He checked his watch. “I really need to get going. I think I’ve got the roofers squared away for the day.”
“How long do you think it will take?”
He glanced up at the sky. “A couple of days if this weather holds. Maybe three. Long days. They’ll probably still be here when you get home from work tonight.”
“Actually, I took today off.” She frowned. “To call my dad, for one thing. Plus, I wasn’t sure if the roofing guys might need me for anything. I thought I could take some cookies out to them later.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to. But my mom always did that whenever we had people working on the house.” She forced a smile and swallowed over the lump in her throat.
“I remember. I was the recipient of her fresh-from-the-oven cookies more than once. That’s really sweet of you, Phylicia.”
“It’s no big deal. Things have been pretty quiet at the flower shop anyway.” Phylicia had been thankful for Mary’s flexible scheduling since they’d moved to the cottage. And without a rent payment to make, she didn’t feel the dent in her paycheck quite so much.
“Well, that’s good then.” Quinn’s mouth tipped into a half-smile. “I would have assigned myself to this crew if I’d known about the cookies.”
She laughed, mostly at the relief this whole conversation had offered. “Maybe I’ll save you one.”
Mabel barked from the cab, and Quinn tipped his hat at her and took a couple of backward steps toward the truck. “That’s my signal. Gotta run.”
She waved, still smiling. But as his truck disappeared around the bend, doubts assailed her again. She might be back on friendly terms with Quinn for now, but whatever he knew about her dad was serious, and Quinn had hinted that it might have repercussions for their relationship too. Such as it was.
Sighing, she walked back up to the house and steeled herself for a difficult conversation with Dad.
If she could ever get the man to answer his phone.
Chapter 31
Phee tipped open the oven door and checked on the last pan of chocolate chip cookies. They were still a little gooey, so she set the timer for two more minutes.
She smiled at the memories of her mother that came with the heavenly aroma of chocolate and warm sugar. Mom would have loved the way the roofing crew had snarfed down two dozen cookies in less than five minutes. Phee had almost grown embarrassed at the men’s effusive thanks—even while she understood why Mom had found sharing cookies so rewarding.
This last pan was for her sisters. And maybe a couple for Quinn, in case he showed up again tomorrow morning to get the crew started.
The warm memories were crowded out by the reminder that she needed to try to reach Dad again. If it wasn’t for the fact that his phone was ringing before going to voicemail, she would have suspected he’d changed his number or gotten a new phone. Surely, he would be worried if he saw that she’d tried to call him repeatedly. But he’d been anything but predictable since Mom’s death.
While she waited for the timer, she washed the last of the dishes and set them to dry on a clean dish towel. The timer dinged and, at the same instant, the doorbell rang.
Phee removed the hot cookie sheet and set it on top of the stove. She turned off the oven, th
en quickly ran to see who was at the door.
Bending to peek through the living room window to the enclosed porch, her breath caught. “Dad?” Trembling, she fumbled with the doorknob and crossed the porch to open the outer door. “Dad?” All those unanswered calls—and now here he stood in the flesh? She almost couldn’t believe her own eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi, honey.” He motioned behind him where the roofers were cleaning up the day’s debris. “Pretty nice place you’ve got here.”
“Dad … Come in!”
He opened his arms to her, and she fell into his embrace, forgetting all the angry feelings she’d harbored toward him, simply glad to have her father’s arms around her.
He gave her one more squeeze, then held her at arm’s length. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
Her insides trembled as she studied him, still unable to believe he was really here.
He’d lost weight, and his jeans hung loose on him. And despite the Florida tan that leathered his skin, beneath it, he looked wan and exhausted. Yet at the same time, he looked …sweet. The softer appearance of the loving father she’d grown up with. The edge of bitterness she’d sensed in him recently was gone. But he did not look defeated. He looked like a man who had fought a hard battle—and won.
“Something smells mighty good.” He slipped the baseball cap from his head. His hair was longer than he usually wore it, curling around his ears and at his collar.
“Come in … please. How long have you been here?”
He gave a little chuckle. “Just got into town. I flew into St. Louis last night.”
“What? You must be exhausted. Have you been to the house yet? Your house, I mean? Have you seen the girls?”
“Not yet. There will be time for all of that. I came to see you, sweet Phee.”
Her throat filled with emotion at the endearment from her childhood—a play on sweet pea. She’d almost forgotten.
He stepped into the living room and looked slowly around, taking it all in. Phee tried to see the house through his eyes—and was pleased with what she saw. The cottage was at its best this time of day, with sunlight slanting through the windows on the west side and painting patches of saffron on the wood floors. Jo had fluffed the sofa pillows before leaving for work this morning, and the bouquet of wildflowers Britt had gathered from the creek’s edge last night starred on the mantel.
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