about you in the papers. Not many people enjoy the advantages you had, and my kid never will. I don’t want you filling her head with fairy-tale dreams she can never have.”
“Fairy tales don’t always have happy endings,” she said. “Trust me, the less I talk about my past, the better. All those advantages? They turned into a prison and they’re gone now. At this point in time, your daughter has a brighter future than I do.”
He liked the spark he saw in her then, a brief flash of anger, and a whole lot of clear-eyed determination. “Okay, then.”
“I’ve got a lot to learn,” Hope said after a moment. “Maybe Angie and I can learn together.”
He wondered what she meant by that, but before he could answer, the door flew open and Angie stormed in. A dark-haired girl, she wore jeans and a sweatshirt emblazoned with the name of a band. She hadn’t even got inside and she was already looking for a fight. Fire filled her dark eyes, and she slung her book bag onto the floor. It slid until it hit the wall.
“That school sucks,” she announced before anyone could greet her. “Some of the boys smell like cows and manure. The teachers are stupid. The whole place is stupid.” Then her flashing eyes landed on Hope. “What’s this? Your girlfriend? Or my keeper? Either way, I don’t want her here.” She glared at Hope. “Get out of here. Now.”
Then she ran up the stairs, leaving her bag where it had fallen, punctuating her rant by slamming the door upstairs hard enough to make the windows rattle a bit.
The sound of the girl stomping around in her room overhead became all that filled the silence.
Hope cleared her throat. “She’s very pretty.”
“Pretty is as pretty does,” Cash remarked. “There you have it. If she has any other mode of communication, I haven’t seen it. Still want to take this on?”
“I want to try,” Hope answered without hesitation. She gave him a wan smile. “I understand anger. I’ve been living with enough of it for several months now. She just lost her mother, you said. Well, I lost my innocence, so maybe we’re not very different.”
“You’re handling it a lot better.”
“Only because I’m older and well trained. One mustn’t make a scene, you know. Not that I think Angie shouldn’t be permitted to express herself. God knows, bottling it up does no good.” She sighed. “Show me around? I need to know where things are and what your rules are.”
“I don’t have a whole lot of rules,” he said, waving her toward the kitchen. “I’d like some courtesy in communications, but basically, as long as it isn’t dangerous, no rules. There are always snacks for her, Hattie, my housekeeper makes sure there are fresh cookies in the jar. I’d like Angie to get her homework done every day, but trying to police that only results in another scene like the one you just saw.”
“Do you have any reason to think she isn’t getting it done?”
“I asked the teachers to let me know.”
“Then I guess it’s safe to assume she is. What else? Especially the dangerous part.”
“No taking a horse out alone. She’s welcome to ride, but not alone. That infuriates her because she has to wait for one of my hands or me, and she’d rather die than go with me.”
“Well, I can ride with her if she wants. More?”
“If she rides, she has to take care of her mount afterward. We’ve been having a problem with that.”
For the first time, Hope looked honestly astonished. “Really? I took care of my horses. Part of the drill. Okay, I’ll make it clear, if she’s willing to ride with me.”
He paused as they stood in the kitchen. “I’m not a hard man, Hope. But this is my first experience of raising a child and I’m sure I’m fumbling. I don’t want to saddle her with limitations and rules, but she needs to pick up after herself, leave the bathroom usable by another person, and do her own laundry. I don’t have maid service.”
He thought Hope flushed faintly. “Did she have it before?”
“No, and that’s what makes this so strange.”
“More of her resentment,” Hope suggested. “It’s got to be hard to lose your mother. What happened, if I’m not being too nosy?”
“Peritonitis. Fast and hard, from what I understand, but I don’t have all the details. By the time Sandy felt sick enough to go to the hospital, it was too late. A matter of hours.”
Hope nodded and looked down. “She must have been terrified. Angie, I mean. To have that happen so fast, and it’s not even like a car accident. Her mom was sick—they should have been able to help her.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Cash contemplated that for a minute, realizing that he probably hadn’t spent enough time thinking of what his daughter was dealing with. He’d been too busy dealing with her. Ah, damn, another failure on his part.
He looked at Hope. “I know I’m asking a lot, but try to be a friend to her. Before you, I had two very grandmotherly ladies apply for the job. This time I wanted someone closer to her age. Someone she could feel closer to, if that’s possible.”
Hope nodded slowly. “I’d guess that right now the last thing she would want would be someone trying to stand in for her mother.”
“Hell, she doesn’t even want a father. But I get what you’re saying. I’m not expecting miracles, though I’d like to see her a little happier and a little more comfortable here. I’m not totally oblivious. She didn’t just lose her mother—she lost her home, her friends, her school. The school counselor is trying to work with her, but so far she’s just not talking. Well, except to yell at me.”
“I’m sure this is hard on you.”
“I’m not looking for sympathy,” he said frankly. “I don’t need it. That girl needs something, and clearly I’m not giving it to her.”
“I’ll try,” Hope said. “That’s all I can do.”
“It’s all I can ask.”
* * *
Cash excused himself, saying he needed to get back to work. The stomping from upstairs had ceased, and Hope could only guess what Angie might be doing. Sleeping? Crying? Or just fuming? Anything was possible, especially since she didn’t know the girl at all.
She hesitated, then decided to make a cup of tea and settle in for a while, awaiting the next development. The tea bags sat on the counter next to an electric kettle and a coffeemaker brimming with what smelled like fresh brew. At least she knew how to make tea, from her years at college. Beyond that, a kitchen was mostly alien territory to her, although she supposed she could have managed coffee. As a child she’d spent some time with her family’s cook in the kitchen, watching and messing with dough, but cooking a whole meal? No way.
Nor would she ever have needed to learn if she had continued her directed path in life. Scott could have kept her in the same style she’d been raised to. She’d have spent her future on the boards of various charities, raising a child or two with the help
