were involved…
HANNAH STIRRED sugar into her father’s coffee and handed him the mug, aware he’d been watching her ever since he’d walked through the door. She only wished he’d changed from his garish gray tux. Simply looking at his pink ruffled shirt and white patent leather shoes reminded her of her earlier debacle. He’d even managed a manicure, she noted, spying a thin coat of clear polish on his blunt nails.
“Are you sure you’re all right, honey?” Wiley studied her intently over the rim of his cup.
“I’m fine, Dad. So, please stop staring at me like I’m going to break apart any minute.”
Wiley shoved stubby fingers through his curly brown hair, sending the unmanageable strands into disarray. His hair gel had no doubt worn off hours ago, a sign he’d repeatedly done the gesture several times today, a testament to the stress she’d inflicted on him.
Hannah sipped her own hot tea and perched on the armchair beside the fire, wondering if she should take off for a couple of weeks and let publicity die down. Only, with Wiley’s latest statewide ads and her wedding disaster airing on TV, she wouldn’t be able to escape the notoriety of being Wiley’s daughter anywhere she went.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Unaccustomed as she was to sharing her personal feelings with her father, she couldn’t offer an explanation.
He frowned. “You want to talk about the breakup?”
She shook her head.
“Honey, I…” Her father stared into his mug as if the rich dark coffee held the answers. “I know you don’t like to confide in me. I’m not sure why….”
The anguish in his voice startled her. “Dad—”
He held up his hand. “It’s okay, Hannah. I’m not trying to pressure you. And you didn’t embarrass me.” He rubbed at his trouser leg awkwardly. “Heaven knows though, that I embarrass you sometimes, but I don’t mean to. I love you girls. I always have.”
“I know that, Dad.” Tears burned Hannah’s eyes. If only all the kids she’d grown up with could have seen the real man beneath her father’s showy exterior, not the flamboyant TV salesman, maybe they wouldn’t have teased her unmercifully. And if only she could forget the fact that his stunts had embarrassed her, that her mother had deserted the family because of them…
He sipped his coffee, his voice deep and husky. “Just tell me one thing—did Broadhurst hurt you?”
A smile curved Hannah’s mouth. She ached to walk over and wrap her arms around her father, assure him she was okay, but for some reason, she found herself holding back, exactly as she always did when he tried to get too close. “No, Dad. I’m the one who called off the wedding.”
He clenched his hand around his knee as if he wanted to reach for her but knew she wouldn’t be receptive. Hannah had never been the cuddly, affectionate one—that had been Mimi. “You want to talk about it?”
Hannah sighed. “I simply realized we weren’t right for each other, Dad, and I didn’t want to make a mistake.”
“Like I did with your mother?”
The pain-filled words hung between them, but she couldn’t bring herself to voice her thoughts. “Dad—”
He gently took her hands in his and squeezed them. “I’m not trying to make things worse here. I’m behind you, no matter what you decide, honey.”
Guilt suffused Hannah. She wished she knew something to say to alleviate the hurt in her father’s eyes, but they had never been able to talk about her mother.
“I’m sorry I left you to handle all the details,” she finally said.
Wiley shrugged. “No problem. I’m going to try to make good use of the cake,” Wiley said, easing the tension his usual way, with a joke.
Hannah laughed. “I’m glad. I certainly don’t want to have to eat it.”
Wiley picked the newspaper off the coffee table, the small-town paper full of Hartwell happenings. News of the shooting at the car lot occupied the first page, bumping Hannah’s canceled wedding and photos of her running from the church to the third.
“I heard you took care of my salesman at the hospital today,” Wiley said.
Hannah’s fingers tightened around her cup, the vivid images from her dream bombarding her. “Yes. Apparently he caught someone trying to steal a car.”
Wiley nodded. “Yep. Tippins is a good man. A little rough with his sales technique, but he’s learning.”
Great. One day maybe he’d star in one of her dad’s commercials.
Surely he’d be out of her dreams by then.
“I’m glad you saw him at the hospital,” Wiley continued, oblivious to her turmoil. “Odd though, he didn’t want any press about his heroics. Heard he even refused to give an interview for the paper.”
So, maybe he didn’t like a lot of attention the way her father did. That still didn’t mean she and the man had anything in common.
“As a matter of fact, I wanted to talk to you about checking on him when he’s released.”
Hannah nearly spilled her tea in her lap. “What?”
Wiley grinned as if one of his wild brainstorms had just hit him. “Poor guy doesn’t have any family. I stopped by to see him on my way over here, but he fell asleep while I was there. And I have to go out of town tomorrow. We’re taping that early-bird ad for Thanksgiving in Atlanta. Maybe you could give Jake a ride home from the hospital.”
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