had kept candy at his station so he always had some for her when she arrived. Now that she thought about it, she realized Jerry had always been happier to see her than Walter had. “I’m going up to see my father.”
“That’s good. Nice for a father and daughter to stay close,” he said as he made a notation in his log, then handed her a badge. “Now that my Karen’s moved out to college I don’t see her nearly enough.”
Erica smiled and hoped it looked more convincing than it felt. Fathers and daughters. She wondered wistfully if Don Jarrod had been a good father. Had her sister, Melissa, had the kind of connection with her father that Erica had always hungered for? Or had her biological father been cut from the same cloth as Walter? After all, they were both wealthy, important men. Maybe it was in their natures to be closed off and more concerned with business than with their children.
Some relationships were so much closer than others. And some, she mused, with a thought for the father she would never know, were never realized at all.
“You have a nice day now,” Jerry said as she took the badge and headed for the private elevator.
Nice day. Two words rattling around inside her mind as she pushed the call button. Confusing day. Terrifying day. Nice? Not so much. In seconds, the doors swished open, she stepped inside and listened to the muted music that drifted down around her.
Now that she was here, Erica’s stomach was churning. What was she going to say? What could she say? “Hello, Father, or should I call you Walter?”
Tears stung at her eyes, but she blinked them back. She hadn’t cried in front of Christian Hanford and she wouldn’t cry now. For one brief moment, the Colorado attorney’s gorgeous face rose up in her mind and Erica thought if only he hadn’t been there to tear down the foundations of her life, she would have been seriously attracted to him. But it was hard to notice a hum in your body when your heart was breaking.
Even now, her heart hurt and her knees were trembling. Music played on as the elevator silently streamed skyward. She should have thought this through more before coming to the office, Erica told herself. Figured out what she was going to say before coming here. But her feelings had pushed her here. That wild rush of anger and confusion and hurt was simmering inside her and waiting wouldn’t have made a difference. She wouldn’t have calmed down. If anything, the tension riding her would have only increased with a wait.
Besides, she thought as the elevator stopped and the doors slid open to reveal the rarefied air of the penthouse suite of offices, it was too late to back out now. She was here and it was past time for answers.
Thick, cream-colored carpet stretched on forever. Her father didn’t want to be bothered by the clipping sound of shoes on tile. And what Walter Prentice wanted, he got. So the carpet was thick and the music soft. It was like stepping into a cloud, she thought. The view out the glass walls was impressive, the city stretched out all around them and the bay just beyond.
Taking a deep breath, Erica walked down the long hall to the desk of her father’s assistant. Jewel Franks was fiftyish, no-nonsense and had her fingers on the pulse of the entire company. She had iron-gray hair neatly coiffed, cool blue eyes and the patience of a saint. She had to, to be able to work with Walter on a daily basis as she had for the last thirty years.
“Erica!” Jewel smiled at her. “What a lovely surprise. Your father isn’t expecting you, is he? I don’t have you on my list for the day….”
Erica felt a reluctant smile curve her mouth. Jewel’s lists were legendary. If it wasn’t written on her legal pad, it didn’t exist.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “This is a spur-of-the-moment thing, Jewel. Does he have a few minutes?”
The older woman gave her a wink. “You just managed to catch him between calls, honey. Why don’t you go on in?”
“Thanks.” Erica’s stomach spun and dipped, as if her insides were dizzy and looking for a way to sit down. Another deep breath to fortify already flagging nerves and she was walking to the double-door entrance to her father’s office. A soft knock, then she turned the brass knob and entered.
“What is it, Jewel?” Walter didn’t even look up from the sheaf of papers on his desk.
Erica took a second to study him as he sat there. All of her life, she’d looked up to this man, tried to please him and wondered why she continually failed. His hair was thick and cut short, white mingling with the black now, and his navy blue suit fit him like a uniform. Which it was, she supposed, since she had rarely seen her father in anything but a suit and tie. That tie was power-red today and as he lifted his gaze to look at her, she saw his eyes narrow in question.
“Erica? What are you doing here?”
Not exactly a warm greeting, but Walter never had cared for being interrupted at the office. “Hello, Father.”
Openly frowning now, he asked, “Is there something wrong? Shouldn’t you be at work?”
She watched his face, searching for some sign of warmth or pleasure, but there was nothing. So she walked across the floor, never taking her eyes from his. When she was standing opposite his desk, she said, “I had a visitor today. A lawyer from Colorado.”
Walter jerked as if he’d been shot. Then he stiffened in his chair and set his sterling silver pen onto the desk top. His features went deliberately blank.
“Colorado?” He repeated the word without the slightest inflection in his voice.
“Don’t,” Erica said, staring into those distant green eyes of his as she had her whole life, hoping to see love shining back at her. But again, she was disappointed. “Don’t pretend to not know what I’m talking about.”
His eyes narrowed as he sat back in his chair and gave an impatient tug to his suit vest. “Young lady, don’t take that tone with me.”
Erica almost laughed and would have if her heart wasn’t aching in her chest. She hadn’t heard that particular phrase from him since she was seventeen, and telling her father she was going to a concert with her friends. Of course, she hadn’t gone to the concert, since he’d refused permission and sent her to her room. She wasn’t a rebellious girl anymore though, fighting her own nerves and her father for the right to spread her wings. And she no longer needed his permission to do what she felt she had to do. She was all grown-up and she deserved some answers.
“Father,” she said quietly, “the attorney told me some things. Things I need to talk to you about.”
“I can imagine he did. But I’m not going to discuss this with you.” His jaw jutted out, his eyes narrowed and he silently dared her to continue.
“I need to know, Father,” she said, doing just that. “I have the right to hear it from you. I have to know if everything he said was true.”
“You want to talk about rights? What about my rights to not have this distasteful matter resurrected?” he muttered, tapping his fingers against the desk in a nervous tattoo. “You’re Erica Prentice. My daughter, and by heaven, that should be enough for you.”
God, she wished it were. She wanted it to be enough. But just looking at Walter’s face told her that there was so much more she needed to know. All her life, she’d loved this man. Wanted him to be proud of her. Had strived to be the best—at everything—just to win his approval.
