Page 12 of Silver Hills' Christmas Miracle

“And what precedence does that set, Kitty?” Dad’s thin lips vanished under his mustache. “That people can threaten and attack my family and there will be no consequences? That you can brandish a knife in the grocery store and walk free two days later? There’s more at stake here than your infinitely empathetic conscience, dear daughter.”

“It shows you’re compassionate,” I snapped back. “That you care about the people of this town. That their lives and well being are more important than this stupid highway.”

“Of course I care,” Dad sighed. “Kitty, do you not see what I am doing? Do you have any idea the volume of business that this highway will generate? There will be thousands driving through this town on the daily basis. We will be setting up gas stations and diners, and the revenue generated will finally bring us into the Twenty-First century.”

“We don’t need it! We’re a holiday town, Dad. How can you forget that? You’re going to smother this town because allthe people who would drive through this place and stop for a while will now just drive straight past because you’re choosing efficiency over?—”

“Kitty, enough!” Dad slammed his hand down onto the desk, causing all the folders and pens to jump.

I immediately snatched my hands back and glared at him.

“You don’t know what you are talking about. This idyllic view you have of this place will mean nothing if we don’t keep up with progress. And you stand there, lecturing me about compassion when your mother was in hysterics last night because someone tried to attack you. So yes, I will press charges against the asshole who tried to harm my daughter, and I will do what is best for this town to secure a future for my family.”

His voice rose sharply with each word.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I have a call to take because I have a meeting next week at the meeting house, so…” He pointed at the door, then picked up the phone from the receiver on the desk.

“You’re so blinded by money that you think punishing desperate people is justified,” I ground out.

He didn’t look up. His phone call was much more important, and I was so angry that I had nothing more I could say—not politely, at least. With a stomp of my foot, I stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind me. Inside, my father’s voice switched from angry to faux happy as he started reeling off details of next week's meeting. That was where his focus was, huh?

I ground my teeth and didn’t stop walking until I reached my mother’s art room.

“Kitty!” She called me over and rose from her stool as I approached, then threw her arms around me and buried me against her blossom. “My darling, I was so worried about you.”

“I’m fine,” I replied with a deep sigh, slowly being able to calm down under her touch. “Nothing really happened.”

“When they told me someone had attacked you, the thoughts that ran through my mind were impossible.” She pulled away and cupped my face, and her perfectly lined brows pulled down. “What’s wrong?”

“Dad,” I muttered.

Her face changed instantly. “Oh. He was worried about you.”

“Was he?” I muttered again. “Or was he just worried that my death would get in the way of his construction project?”

“Oh, Kitty! Don’t you dare talk like that! You know your father loves you. We both do. And that man? I don’t know what I would have done if Rook hadn’t been able to get you out of here.”

Rook.

Just the thought of him brought a beat of peace to my tense chest, and my next breath was a little easier. “Yeah,” I replied. “He was amazing.”

“I know you think your father is some bad man, but he has this town’s best interests at heart.” Mom patted my cheek and then returned to her still-life painting with a dreamy smile.

She loved Dad, so he did no wrong in her eyes, which was just as frustrating as dealing with my father himself. Even when her grand Yuletide Ball changed from money-raising to elite praising, she went along with it because it made him happy.

“People are unhappy, Mom. Because of Dad. He’s the mayor. He’s supposed to help people and instead, he’s making them sad.”

“I don’t know about all of that,” she replied, turning to face me once more. “But I do know that you need to stop worrying so much. It will give you wrinkles, darling, and you're far too young to be dealing with that. You need to be enjoying yourself. Aren’t you excited for the ball?”

The ball. Just the thought of it soured me even more. I made a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat, then kissed my mother on the cheek and left the studio. I wouldn’t find helpthere with her. Outside, Rook gave me a concerned look, but I wasn’t in the right mindset to think about him either.

Frustration was swelling under my ribs as if I were going to explode at any moment, so I left Rook in the hall and headed up to my room.

My father wouldn’t listen, and my mother was too floaty to focus on the serious implications of what he was doing. I didn’t blame her. That was just how she was. But it really made me feel like no one was on my side. As I collapsed into bed, I considered calling Rook in here and venting to him, but I knew he had even less control than I did.

And there would be nothing he could do.

I lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling and running over everything in my mind. From that angry man in the grocery store to sex with Rook and then the argument with my father. Everything came back to the highway. Hell, Rook wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for that.

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