Nora Roberts Land(20)
Her dad patted her back. “Good. I need to finish up some stuff before I leave. I’ll see you both at dinner tonight.”
“Yep,” she replied as he left, her gaze drawn to the headlines on her grandfather’s desk like a cat to catnip.
Grandpa Hale leaned back against his desk. “Now that your dad’s gone, I want to be honest with you. I’m going to do everything in my power to make you want to stay and take over.”
His intense gaze had her shuffling her feet. “I don’t think I’m going to stay, Grandpa.”
His bushy eyebrow winged up. “I know, but perhaps we can start with why you came back.”
She looked over his shoulder at a picture of him shaking hands with Harvey Milk in San Francisco three days before the politician’s death. Her goosebumps intensified. Her grandpa had done so much with his life. He’d interviewed every important American political actor in his storied career. People questioned her about him in hushed tones in New York City. Sometimes she forgot his achievements. To her, he was just her grandpa. But right now he was looking at her like an interview subject. It made her squirm.
“Meredith. ”
“Ah…what? You know why.”
“Bullshit. This timing is too coincidental. You decide to come home when Sommerville announced he’s exploring a bid for the Senate. Are you sure you weren’t running away?”
“Ah…” She couldn’t tell him about her article. Her cheeks reddened at the mere thought.
“He’s a self-important prick, and he was never the right man for you. I know your heart got broken, but it’ll mend. Trust an old geezer who lost his sweetheart of fifty-plus years.” He glanced down at the picture of Grandma Hale he kept on his desk, brushing his finger along the frame. “It’s like relationships. You have to work at it.”
“Are you saying you have to work to get over a broken heart?” Of all the things she’d read on the topic, his simple words made sense.
“And it takes time too. We’ll help you all we can now that you’re back, but we can’t fully support you until we know why you’re here.”
She fingered the button on her blouse. God, she hated evasion.
“You’re only making this more interesting to an old newspaperman.” He reached over and tipped her chin up. “You know I’ll find out if I put my mind to it. Did Sommerville threaten you? I always wondered if his cheating might be the kind that could ruin a man’s reputation—especially if that man has political aspirations.” He cracked his knuckles. “He didn’t fight you much on a settlement. Do you have something on him?”
Meredith licked her lips and walked to the other side of his office, trying to control her panic. If he caught even a whiff of what she knew, he’d print it without hesitation. It would look bad if it appeared in her family paper. She couldn’t allow that. If anyone was going to divulge the secret, it was her…and she’d only do it if Rick-the-Dick pushed her into a corner.
To distract him, she picked up The Daily Herald, which was lying on the top rack of his antique newspaper holder. “You read this?”
He snorted. “My granddaughter writes in it. Of course I do.”
She fingered The Standard and held it up. “And this?” Rick-the-Dick would be flattered.
He studied her through his rimless bifocals. “I always read the enemy. It’s the—”
“Third rule of journalism. I know all your rules. You’re a good teacher.”
“Don’t think you can distract me.” He sat back down in his chair, rubbing his hip. “You’re tight-lipped. Fine. I’m going to find out if there’s more. I’m damn good at digging.”
Her lungs seized. Yes, he was. She didn’t need this.
He rocked back and forth, the squeak competing for volume with the news programs on the TV and radio.
“Aren’t you ever going to fix that squeaky chair?”
“No, it’s a comfort. Reminds me of my age. Like this chair, I’m still working.” He picked up a file. “If you change your mind about telling me, you know where to find me. You don’t have to deal with Rick-the-Dick alone.”
Her mouth dropped open. “How—”
“You Hale women. You think I don’t know what you call him?”
She cleared her throat. “I’ve finished my research on the campus drug trade. There’s not much to go on.”
He handed her a file. “Well, take a look at this one. Like I told you, more and more college kids are ending up in the ER puking their guts out. A few of my friends’ grandkids have been involved. Jill swears it’s alcohol poisoning, but…” He popped in another red hot and crunched. “My gut says there’s more.”