Of Happiness (4 page)

“Do you want company?” Dad asks hesitantly, and his words send a beam of happiness through me.

“That would be great,” I respond shyly. “We could grab breakfast. There are some restaurants near the shop.” Through my research last week, I found a popular antique store I thought might have an interesting oversized mirror for Amanda’s guestroom. Now that I lost the McDaniel account, I’ll visit the store anyway to review it and scope out the merchandise.

“What time should I come to get you?”

“I was going to take the train over there around ten.”

“Ed, I’m an old man; let’s take a cab.”

“Forty-seven is far from old, and you run five miles almost every day.”

“Humor me.”

We end the call and I check the time. It’s 7:40 in Chicago, an hour behind DC. 8:40 is a semi-decent hour to call my best friend, Sarah Mendel. She’s an early riser anyway.

“Morning,” she chirps into the phone. “What are you doing?”

“Just making plans to have breakfast with my father in a couple of hours. In Chicago. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Sarah laughs nervously. “He might have called me and asked for your address.”

“He might have, or he did?”

“Are you mad? That will impact how I answer.”

On my end of the phone, a small smile plays at my lips because truthfully, I’m more thankful than words can express. “No,” I murmur almost to myself. “Not mad at all. He showed up at exactly the right time. What are you doing, Sar?”

“Drinking coffee in the kitchen and worrying about you. Why do you sound like you were run over by a Hummer?”

“I didn’t protect my heart,” I whisper, my voice coming out garbled with the onslaught of brutal memories.

“Oh, Eddie. Tell me what happened.”

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I relay my tale.

When I’m done, Sarah’s contemplative. “We know that Claire has lost her mind, but Harris…”

“Harris kept his mouth shut. First he pushed me away, which sucked, but I understood why. I was ready to give him time to decide when he was ready to talk about Cooper. But when Claire came after me, he was catatonic, completely unlike him.”

“And then he chased after you,” Sarah reminds me gently like Luke did last night. “Give him a break, Eddie, he was already in a state after being confronted with Cooper, and then this mess with his sister? I’m sure it’s not easy on him.”

“He could have chased harder.” Sighing, I flop against the pillows. “I guess I’m just scared,” I admit softly.

“There’s the truth. What are you afraid of?”

“That I’m not just dating Harris, but Harris controlled by Claire. Every time things start going well for us, she pulls a string and he lets me go. He told me the road was clear, but that wasn’t the case as soon as Claire wormed her way in.”

“Truth time?”

I brace for impact. “Sure.”

“He’s never run after you like that, Eddie. He left Claire behind to come after
you.
This piece weighs heavily; you need to acknowledge that.”

I squeeze my eyes closed.
She’s right.

“When you say you’re scared, it’s not of Claire, it’s
Harris.
You don’t want to be vulnerable or give him the power to hurt you. Opening yourself to that kind of pain is scary.”

“Sarah,” I moan into the phone. “How did you figure that out before I did?”

“Because I’m your best friend, and it’s easier to call the plays from the couch than on the field.”

“Sports analogies?”

“Sorry, Greg’s been teaching me about soccer.”

My eyes pop open and as I expel a puff of air. “Okay, Dr. Mendel, what am I supposed to do now?”
            “Don’t misunderstand me, I’m glad you walked away from him on Saturday. A, it gave you a chance to start working things out with your dad, and B, he was a huge dick. He can’t have you back unless he makes it up to you.”

“I want to be with him,” I whisper into the phone.

“And you will be with him. We know he’s not letting you go that easily. Look, I’m not saying you should accept him with open arms, but I have a sense that he’s preparing to battle to win you back.”

“So what do I do?”

“You wait for him to come crawling on his hands and knees. The good ones always do.”

After we’ve had breakfast, Dad and I wander through the antique store. I take photos and interview the owner for my blog, Your Perfect Place
.
When I’m done, I find my dad near the front of the store, peering into an open armoire. Suddenly, I can’t contain my curiosity anymore.

“This is a rude question, but Dad, it’s very unlike you to splurge on an expensive hotel, taxi cabs, and cross-country trips.”

“I didn’t hear a question in there,” he observes.

Skirting around a paisley loveseat that needs a serious upholstery makeover, I move to stand next to him. “I helped with our family finances,” I remind him. “I’m so pleased to have you here, but it seems like a lot of money to spend on me when a phone call would have sufficed.”

He closes the doors of the cabinet and fixes me with a serious glare. “No amount of money is too much to spend on my daughter when she needs me. And, yes, you took care of some finances, but not all. I made a lot of mistakes with you, but saving money in case of a rainy day was not one of them. I’d say you had a rainy day. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”
My heart smashed on the floor is pretty rainy.

“And lastly,” he starts.

“There’s more?”

“Let’s talk outside?” he asks, giving a meaningful look to some of the other patrons.

Tossing my camera into my tote bag, I follow him out into the bright sunshine. We stroll east on Belmont, a street in the Lakeview neighborhood, toward Lake Michigan. Dad swipes a hand through his hair, contemplating the buildings ahead of us. He looks ill at ease, wrinkles crinkling his forehead.

“What’s the last point?” I gently prod.

“It’s odd to think that I’d be afraid of my own daughter,” Dad muses.

“Afraid of
me
?”

“There was a malpractice lawsuit after your mother died,” he says quietly. “We won.”

“And?”

“The settlement awarded us a couple hundred thousand, but I was too stubborn. I kept it locked up in an account gaining interest when I could have used it to get you a car or buy you the latest clothes.” He sounds torn-up, his voice jagged.

I try to stifle an external reaction of surprise. How many more large reveals would there be between him and me? By his remorseful expression it’s easy to spot the upheaval the secret caused him. When I gauge my reaction, I find I’m not upset. It was his decision to do what he felt right with the money. While I was growing up, he provided what I needed—shelter, clothing, food, water. It might have made our lives richer in material things, but wouldn’t have bridged the emotional chasm between us.

“Dad.” I reach out and grab his elbow, causing us to pause on the middle of the sidewalk. “We lived in the city; I didn’t need a car. And you worked your ass off to keep me fed and clothed. I am so lucky to have a father who could provide for me.” 

After roughly clearing his throat, Dad continues. “I’d like to use the money to pay off the rest of your student loans. There should be some left over, and that’s yours to use as you see fit.”

The air glides against my cheek; rays of sunshine beat down on me like any normal day. But it’s not normal to find out about stashed money that could eliminate some of my major financial burdens.

“What?” I finally splutter. “No. No, I couldn’t do that.”

“The money will sit in the account until you decide what to do with it, Ed. I’m giving it to you.” Shaking his head, he mutters to himself. “Should have done this a long time ago.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“You have every right to be angry with me.”

“Angry? You were twenty-one when mom died. It’s a miracle you didn’t blow the money on a sports car.” I try to break the uneasy mood with a slight teasing smile.

“I’m proud of you, Edith. So proud.” For a second it looks like his eyes fill with tears, but I can’t analyze it further because I’m too stunned.

This is the first time I can remember him calling me Edith.

A vibrating from deep within my tote bag interrupts the moment and I quickly dig into the purse to retrieve the device.

Mrs. Fletcher calling.

Trying to ignore the ball of fear forming in my stomach, I tell my dad, “Have to take this one. It’s a client.”

He nods, looking relieved, and rocks back on his heels while he waits.

“Hello, Mrs. Fletcher.” My greeting is warm, despite my nerves.

“Yes, hello Ms. Neff.” She sniffs. “I’m calling to cancel our meeting for this afternoon.”

I must visibly deflate because my dad gives me a concerned look. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope everything is okay.”

She sniffs louder. “Everything is fine with me, but not so fine with Amanda McDaniel. I’m afraid I can’t do business with someone who is having an affair with a client’s husband. Frankly, the thought of you in my home is disturbing.”

Inhaling a deep breath, I force my voice steady. “Mrs. Fletcher, I’m very sorry to hear you were told that. Unfortunately for Amanda and me, it is not the truth. I understand I’ve lost your business, but you should know this: I would
never
have an affair with a client.”

Her sniff turns into a snort. “Isn’t that what all the little harlots say? Claire told me that you were eyeing my husband, too. Stay away from us.”

The line goes dead when she hangs up. Dropping my arm down, I stare at my phone in resignation.

“Claire lied to another one of my clients,” I say glumly. There’s no surprise in my tone, because there’s nothing Claire could do at this point that would shock me. I’m starting to feel frightened. Another client fired me, my already-small income dwindling further.       

Dad eyes me warily. “Maybe it’s better to shed yourself of clients related to Claire Grant.”

“Yeah.” My shoulders droop. “I know you’re right, but that doesn’t make it sting any less.”

“Should we go out to dinner with Sean and Luke?” he suggests.

“Okay.”

“You still like sushi?”

A small smile tips my lips because he remembers one of my favorite meals. “Let’s do that.” 

Naka Naka is a cozy restaurant in Lincoln Park, not far from Amanda and Peter McDaniel’s house. Sean, Luke, Dad, and I sit around a sturdy wood table on flat brown benches with pillows on the seats.

Everyone at the table has been raving about the fish, but to me it tastes like sandpaper. The company has been entertaining, but I want to snuggle under the safety of a warm bed. If I’m honest with myself, I’d admit it’s Harris’ embrace I’d most want to be wrapped in tonight.

“Let me get this straight,” Luke says, studying Sean. “You met our Edith by accosting her at a yuppie grocery store, and then the Merchandise Mart food court?”

Sean rolls his eyes playfully. “Hey, I know a best friend when I see her. Aren’t you glad I found her?”

“Thrilled to have met Edith, but horrified by your behavior. Didn’t you think he was a creep?” Luke asks me.

“At first I was confused, but I thought his friendliness was a Midwest thing,” I contribute.

Dad chuckles to my left and Sean bristles to my right.

“But one minute into chatting with Sean, I knew we could be friends. Even though I was shocked that he found me in the middle of a busy food court, I was really happy to have met a new friend.” I finish quietly, dropping my gaze to my plate. Tears well up behind my eyes, and I blink rapidly to hold them in. My emotional state has been fragile at best these past few days.

Sean leans over into my personal space. “Me too, girl,” he whispers into my ear.

I give him a watery smile as I readjust in my seat.

“Are you all right?” Luke asks carefully. Dad watches me with a worried frown.

“Yeah, I just thought Harris would call or Mrs. Fletcher wouldn’t fire me. Either one of those would have been a win.” I shrug, trying to appear indifferent, but by the way my dad’s grim expression deepens, I can tell I failed.

The waitress arrives holding a black check sleeve. She hands it directly to me with a wink. Dad quickly swipes it from my hands.