King of Wall Street(74)
I had no idea whether my father was in. Even if he was, he might have company or be busy. I probably should have called first, but I couldn’t bear the idea he’d tell me no, and I was sure to chicken out if he suggested another time.
I walked up the stoop and rang the bell. Immediately footsteps scuffled behind the door.
“Hello?” My father’s housekeeper squinted at me.
“Hi, Miriam, is my father home?”
“Harper? Good God, child, I’ve not seen you in years.” She bundled me into the hallway. “You’re looking too thin. Can I get you something to eat? The soup I’m making won’t be ready for a few hours, but I roasted a chicken yesterday. I could make you a sandwich.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine.” I hadn’t expected the warmth, the welcome, to be treated as if I were family. “It’s nice to see you looking so well.”
“Old, dear, that’s how I look, but that’s what I am.” She began to make her way down the hall, beckoning me with her. “Let me call upstairs to his study.”
I couldn’t hear my father’s reaction to my arrival, but the conversation was short and didn’t seem to involve any cajoling to see me.
“You can go up, lovely. It’s the second floor, first door on your right.”
I smiled and took a deep breath. I was really doing this.
Climbing the stairs, I looked toward the top. My father stood there, looking down.
“Harper. How lovely to see you.”
He acted as if it wasn’t completely ridiculous for me to be here. I’d been to this house three, maybe four times in my entire life, and not once in the last five years. “Thanks for seeing me,” I replied. I didn’t quite know how to handle the welcome.
“Of course. I’m delighted.” As I reached the top of the stairs he grasped me by my upper arms and kissed my cheek. “Did Miriam offer you something to eat or drink?”
I chuckled despite myself. “An entire roast dinner if I’d wanted, I think.”
“Good, good. Come in.”
We went into his office, a room in all pale blues and whites that reminded me of the ocean. It had been given a makeover since I’d been here last. I took a seat in the chair opposite his desk. He sat, then stood again. “Sorry, we shouldn’t be across a desk like this. We can go downstairs. Or out in the garden. I didn’t think.”
He was nervous. I wasn’t. I rarely saw him ruffled—he always acted as if everything was playing out exactly as he’d planned.
“I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. “Here’s good.”
He sat back down. “If you’re sure. Miriam sent you up here because I’m not as good with the stairs since I injured my knee playing tennis last summer.”
I couldn’t ever remember my father being so open, sharing anything so personal with me before. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes, yes, but I’m getting older and my body doesn’t bounce back in the way it used to.” He leaned back in his chair. “Anyway, it’s very nice to see you.” He nodded as if he were trying to convince himself. “We didn’t really get to speak as much as I’d hoped at lunch. How are you? Are you enjoying being in New York?”
I felt as if I’d gone to the theater and during the intermission come back to my seat to find I was watching a completely different play. My father was talking to me as if I’d been away for the summer rather than absent from his life.
“Everything’s good.” I twisted my hands in my lap. “I imagine you’re wondering why I’m here—”
“I don’t blame you for King & Associates canceling our meeting, if that’s what you think. I should never have asked for you to be replaced. I just thought it would be easier if . . .”
“What?” Easier? Easier for him maybe.
“But all’s well that ends well. You’re here.”
The conversation wasn’t going as I’d planned. I’d expected to ask him questions, for him to answer in half-truths and lies and I would call him on it. I had no idea what was going on. “I’m not following you. King & Associates canceled their meeting with you?”
“Yes, which is fine. We have excellent in-house resources.”
Why would Max do that? JD Stanley could have made him considerably richer than he already was.
“Yesterday.” His eyebrows pinched together. “You didn’t know?”
Thoughts of Max canceling the pitch created a swirl of guilt in my stomach. Wasn’t that what I’d wanted? I shook my head. I needed to focus on the here and now, not get distracted by thoughts of Max. “Can I ask you a question?”