She realized it had been too much to expect that he’d be in a good mood. “I have an hour or so, and I thought we could talk.”
“About what?”
“I’ve got some pictures of the construction.” She opened her purse to retrieve her phone.
He waved her away as he closed the door behind them. “I don’t want to see them.”
“We’ve got a carpenter helping us. He’s really good, and his prices are reasonable.”
“You should come home. You should both come home, find real jobs, give up that run-down, ramshackle restaurant. There are a lot of nice men in Portland.”
Jules mind went involuntarily to Caleb, and she quickly banished the picture.
“You know we want to do this, Dad. We think we can make it work, and we promised Grandpa.”
“You should never have made that promise to your grandfather. And he should never have asked you. I should contest the will.”
“You’re not going to contest the will.”
Although her father would have loved nothing better than to sell the land under the Crab Shack as well as her grandfather’s house, no court in the country would overturn the will, and he knew it.
“You’re going to lose all your money.”
Jules took a seat in the compact living room. “We told you, we’re willing to take that chance.”
“You dragged your little sister along on this misadventure.”
Jules clenched her purse on her lap. “Melissa is perfectly capable of making up her own mind.”
“She follows you. She always has.”
“But she argues with me when she doesn’t agree.”
Roland scoffed. “Don’t give me that. You know you’re the one in charge.”
“I’m not—” Jules stopped herself, realizing the futility of going around and around on the issue.
“I wanted you to know I was fine, that we’re doing fine. I thought you might be worried.”
“When I think of the two of you next door to that family,” he spat.
“It’s only Caleb now. Kedrick moved to Arizona.”
Her father pounced. “How do you know that?”
She realized she’d made a mistake. “It’s a small neighborhood.”
Roland’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a lot of detail.”
“It’s not.”
“How did you hear so much about that family?”
“We’ve run into Caleb and a few of the other neighbors.” She tried to move the conversation past the Watfords. “Matt Emerson owns the marina now and lives in the house above. It’s really grown. And TJ Bauer bought the O’Hara’s place and rebuilt. Ours is the only original house left.”
“The land is worth a fortune by now. Selling is the only logical choice.”
Something in his tone gave Jules pause.
“Do you need money?” She hadn’t thought of it from that angle before.
Her father had never made a lot as a hardware store manager. They’d never talked much about money, in general. She and her sister had grown up in a very modest household without any extras.
He glared at her. “I can take care of myself.”
“It was your family home.”
Her grandfather might have willed it to Jules and Melissa, but her father had an equal moral call on the money tied up in the property—which was the only family legacy the Parkers had.
“This is about you and your foolish idea, and my father’s irresponsible decision to have his pipe dream cross generations. As your father, it’s my responsibility to save you from yourself.”
Jules felt her spine stiffen. She loved her father, but he was irrational when it came to Whiskey Bay, and he was just plain wrong on this. It was a dream worth pursuing.
She realized she shouldn’t have come here. She’d thought she might be able to make it a bit better. But she was only making it worse. She made a show of looking at her watch, and she came to her feet.
“As an adult, it’s my responsibility to make my own decisions.”
“You don’t know these people.”
She knew them better than he could ever imagine. She didn’t trust Caleb, but she did know him, intimately. Last night tried to rush back into her brain, but she fought it off.
“I know me, and I know Melissa, and I know what Grandpa wanted. I’m doing the right thing, Dad. I hope you’ll see that someday.”
“I hope I’m not around long enough to see you ruined.”
“Can you at least have a little faith?”
He didn’t answer.
She gave a sad smile, crossed to his chair and bent down for a quick hug. “I hope you’re around for a long, long time.”
He gave a grunt.