For the third time in the past hour, Hayden noticed her dad’s slightly glazed, bloodshot eyes and wondered if he’d had something to drink before coming here. His breath smelled like toothpaste and cigars, but she got a wary feeling when she looked at him.
No, she was being silly. He was probably just tired.
“I’m happy to help,” she answered with a reassuring smile.
He touched her arm. “Do you need a ride back to the suite?”
“No, I’ve got my rental.”
“All right.” He nodded. “I forgot to mention it last time I saw you, but the annual Gallagher Club fundraiser is next Sunday. Eight o’clock.”
Which you will attend, was the unspoken rest of that sentence.
Awesome. She hated those kinds of events, especially the ones held at the prestigious gentlemen’s club her dad was a member of. It was always a bunch of creepy older men hitting on her while their wives pretended not to notice.
Her father must have noticed her reluctance because he frowned slightly. “I’d like you to be there, Hayden. A lot of my friends want to see you. When you were here over the holidays you declined all their invitations.”
Because I wanted to see you, she almost blurted. But she held her tongue. She knew her father liked showing her off to his wealthy friends and boasting about her academic credentials—something he didn’t seem to care about when they were alone.
She swallowed the slight sting of bitterness. Considering they’d just spent an hour with the woman determined to bleed him dry, Hayden figured she ought to cut her dad some slack.
“I’ll be there,” she promised.
“Good.”
After they said their goodbyes, she watched her father hurry out of the elegant lobby onto the street as if he were being chased by a killer. Not a stretch, seeing as the law firm was called Krueger and Bates. Hayden wondered if she was the only one who’d made the connection.
“Hayden, wait.”
She stopped at the massive glass entrance doors, suppressing an inward groan at the sound of her stepmother’s voice.
Hayden turned slowly.
“I just...” Sheila looked surprisingly nervous as she plowed ahead. “I wanted to tell you there are no hard feelings. I know you’re trying to protect your father.”
Hayden’s eyebrows said hello to her hairline. No hard feelings? Sheila was in the process of sucking the money out of Presley’s bank accounts like a greedy leech and she wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings?
Hayden could only stare at the woman, dumbfounded.
Sheila hurried on. “I know you’ve never liked me, and I don’t blame you. It’s always hard to watch a parent remarry, and I’m sure it doesn’t help that I’m only two years older than you.” She offered a timid smile.
“We really shouldn’t be talking.” Her voice was cool. “It’s a conflict of interest.”
“I know.” Sheila ran one hand through her hair, looking sad. “But I just wanted you to know that I still care about your father. I care about him a lot.”
To Hayden’s absolute shock, a couple of tears trickled from the corners of Sheila’s eyes. Even more shocking, the tears didn’t look like the crocodile variety.
“If you care, then why are you trying to take everything he owns?” she couldn’t help but snap.
A flash of petulant anger crossed Sheila’s face. Yup. There was the Sheila she knew. Hayden had seen that look plenty of times before, usually when Sheila was trying to convince Presley to buy something outrageous and not getting her way.
“I’m entitled to something,” Sheila said defensively, “after everything that man put me through.”
Right, because Sheila’s life was so unpleasant. Living in a mansion, wearing haute couture, not paying a dime for anything...
“I know you think I’m the bad guy here, but you need to know that everything I’ve done is a result of... No, I’m not going to blame Pres.” The tears returned, and Sheila wiped her wet eyes with a shaky hand. “I saw that he was spiraling, and I didn’t try to help him. I was the one who sent him into another woman’s arms.”
“Pardon me?” A knot of anger and disbelief twined Hayden’s insides together like a pretzel. Sheila was actually insinuating that Presley had been the one to stray? That was preposterous, and her dislike for the woman quickly doubled.
Sheila eyed her knowingly. “I guess he left out that part.”
“I have to get going,” Hayden said stiffly, her jaw so tense that her teeth were beginning to ache.
“I don’t care what you think of me. I only want you to take care of your father, Hayden. I think he’s started drinking again and I just want to make sure someone is looking out for him.”
Without issuing a goodbye, Sheila left the building.
Hayden watched as her stepmother disappeared down the busy sidewalk, swallowed up by Chicago’s afternoon lunch crowd.
She couldn’t will herself to move.
Lies. It had to be lies, right? Her father would never break his marriage vows by hopping into bed with another woman. Sheila was in the wrong. She had to be.
I think he’s started drinking again.
The comment replayed in Hayden’s brain, making her toy nervously with the hem of her thin blue sweater. She’d thought her father’s eyes had looked bleary... And, fine, maybe he did have a drink or two before coming here, but Sheila’s remark implied that Presley’s drinking went beyond today. That at some point in time he’d suffered from an alcohol problem.
Was it true?
