“Do you like it?” Melissa asked, her tone still unnaturally bright.
“It’s worse than I thought,” he said.
Jules fought a rush of indignation. “It’s going to be terrific. We’ve expanded the windows, refinished the bar.” She gestured, but the bar was completely covered with the drop cloth. “We’ve redone the floor, not to mention all the structural fixes, like the electrical.”
“And you’ve spent all your money.”
“Not all of it. Not yet.”
“We have a budget,” Melissa put in, sounding more confident. “It’s all laid out. And we’ve had fantastic help from...” She gazed through the windows, obviously looking for Noah. “Where’s Noah?” she asked Jules. “He was just out there.”
“Why are you here, Dad?” Jules asked, dropping her polishing cloth and moving away from the bar.
“Your mail was piling up.” He lifted a large manila envelope held in his hand.
Jules didn’t believe for a second that was his purpose. “You drove up from Portland to deliver our mail?”
“And to talk some sense into you girls.” He gazed around the room again. “But I can see that I’m too late. The damage is done.”
“Damage?” Jules raised her voice. “Is that what you call our work?”
“I call it folly,” he said.
“If that’s the only reason you’re here—” Jules began, prepared to send him packing.
“Please don’t,” Melissa broke in. “I hate it when we argue.”
Roland took a few paces and tossed the package of mail on the nearest table. “Then listen to reason.”
Jules crossed her arms over her chest. As always, when it came to her father’s temper, she felt protective of Melissa. “We’ve been through every bit of this before.”
“Is there a problem?” Caleb appeared in the doorway.
Roland turned and it seemed Caleb recognized him instantly. His brow went up, and his nostrils flared.
“You’re a Watford,” Roland snapped.
“Caleb Watford, Mr. Parker.” Caleb seemed to hesitate, but then stepped forward to offer his hand.
Roland didn’t shake. “What the hell are you doing here?” He shot an accusatory stare at Jules. “What the hell is he doing here?”
“Mr. Parker,” Caleb said.
Roland pointed a finger in Caleb’s direction. “I’m talking to my daughter, not to you.”
“He’s our neighbor,” Melissa said in a conciliatory tone. “He and Matt—Matt owns the marina—have helped us with the—”
Roland’s complexion turned ruddy. “You accepted help from a Watford?”
“I’m not my father,” Caleb said in a deep, level voice.
“Get out!” Roland shouted. “This is Parker land, and you’re not welcome here.”
“I’d like to apologize to you,” Caleb said to Roland. “On behalf of my family.”
Roland’s hands clenched into fists. “Did you not hear me? Do I need to repeat myself?”
Caleb didn’t move. “We’re never going to resolve this if we don’t talk to each other.”
“We’re not resolving anything. There’s nothing to resolve.” Roland took a step toward Caleb. “Get out of this building and away from my family.”
“Dad!” Melissa sounded horrified.
Jules felt like she might throw up.
Caleb raised his palms and took a step back. “I can see this is not the time.”
“There’s never going to be a time,” Roland spat.
Caleb turned and walked away.
Jules shook herself out of her stupor. She realized Caleb must have had a good reason for coming. He’d agreed to stay away, and he’d been respecting her wishes.
“Caleb, wait,” she called, rushing after him.
Her father reached for her on the way past, but she avoided him, bursting through the open door.
“Caleb,” she called again.
He stopped in the parking lot next to the SUV.
“Why did you come?” she asked, halting a few feet back from him.
Heaven help her, she wanted to barrel forward into his arms. The decision to keep her distance had been the right one. But she missed him, never more acutely than while he was standing so close.
“They’ve set a court date,” he told her, his tone remote. “It’s Monday. I came to give it one last shot, to see if we could find a compromise.” He nodded past her. “When did he show up?”
“Just now. He’s here to tell us we’re fools, that we should give up this nonsense and come home with him.”