Page 48 of Never Finished

The words flitted through my head, clear and concise, and from a voice I hadn't heard in far too long.

"Mom?"

There was no response, but my brain replayed the words, "Nothing in haste, my love."

That's what she used to tell me when I was younger and I was torn up about making a decision. I always felt pressure to make the right decision. I had never wanted to disappoint my dad, but my mom had been a big fan of taking your time. She believed you could never be too late for an opportunity because you’d be just on time for the thing that was meant for you.

I’d been up all night worrying about how to best tell my father to fuck off without losing what I’d worked so hard for and protecting what was my mother's. But I suddenly realized I didn't need to run myself ragged trying to figure this out. It was time to take a page from Lydia Carter's book and take my time.

With that in mind, I got dressed and left the resort. I didn’t look over to the bar to see Jaime watching me as I exited the lobby. I drove my rental car to Rainbow Lake, where I stored my rowing scull and oars.

It had been way too long since I'd been on the water, but soon I was in the zone. Calm washed over me and my mind no longer raced. The rhythmic click of the oar in the oarlock, the roll of the seat, the controlled breaths required with each stroke. I was too busy focusing on my technique to overthink the mess I found myself in.

I left everything on the water—my anger, my frustration, my sadness. As I coasted into the dock, I felt more at peace about what I needed to do.

It was time to round up the troops.

***

"Do you know why she called this meeting?" I heard Caroline say quietly to Abby through the screen of the laptop.

"No, but I figure it's huge if she's doing it in the middle of the day. What exactly are we waiting for?" Abby asked.

"We," I broke in, "are waiting for room service. Abby, are you someplace where you can get an enormous glass of wine?"

Abby's eyes widened. "Does cooking sherry count?"

Caroline made a face at the suggestion, but then Abby's eyes brightened and she said, "Oh, wait, we do have some bourbon for our Kentucky bourbon cake in the pantry. Hold on a second. I'll be right back."

Caroline looked over her shoulder at me. "Encouraging her to drink on the job, are you? You're really starting to worry me, Emma."

I settled down next to my best friend of many years. "No need to fret. Today is the day I put all of your worries to rest—with your help, of course."

"And we need to be tipsy for that?"

I shrugged, smiling. "How do we hatch our best plans? It's usually over a glass of wine or margaritas. Sue me for wanting to remain authentic."

There was a knock at the door and the call of "room service."

I hurried over to the door to greet the server with our bottle of red. I gave him a generous tip and thanked him before shutting the door behind me and popping the cork. When I returned to Caroline with our glasses, Abby had settled in and poured herself a small tumbler of bourbon. "What are we drinking to, Emma?" she asked.

"We are drinking to getting my life back once and for all."

"I’m intrigued, but what exactly does that mean?" Caroline asked.

"It means that I finally see my father for who he is, and…" emotions immediately clogged my throat, and my friends rushed to comfort me as I heard Abby say "Oh Emma" while Caroline put an arm around my shoulder, squeezing it gently.

I cleared my throat, willing myself to get through this. "It's taken me a long time to accept that he's not capable of being the parent I need him to be. I’ve held on to hope for too long and it’s time to let it go."

My friends looked at me sympathetically. After a long pause, Caroline declared, "Well, it’s about damn time. Here’s to your independence," she said, clinking glasses with mine as Abby held hers up to the screen, and we all took a drink.

"So what’s the plan now that daddy dearest is no longer calling the shots?" Abby asked.

"Well, that's where I could use your help. I'm assuming Elizabeth has some connections to some pretty powerful attorneys?" I asked and watched Abby's eyes widened with delight.

Abby's mother, Elizabeth, was a political maven. She'd spent most of her life campaigning and playing the role of a "doting mother" to Abby, all the while kicking ass and taking names to climb the ranks. Of course, her public and private personas didn’t always match up, but she did the best she could with Abby.

Abby laughed. "Oh yeah. The real question is, how broken do you want the old man to be in the end?"

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