Page 47 of Must Love Mistletoe

“He’s free.” But she hadn’t taken more than two steps toward the door of her father’s inner sanctum before Symonds stopped her with a word. “Coat.”

Symonds had already emerged from his side of the reception desk to help her wriggle her way out of it. Which meant she then had to smooth everything down and tidy her hair all over again. “How do I look?”

“Pretty as a picture, as always.”

She didn’t believe him, but he was a dear sweet man who always made her feel welcome, even when she wasn’t. She raised her hand and knocked on the door and waited. Her father wouldn’t open the door for her, he never did, but Symondsmoved into position, grasping the door handle, ready to proceed on cue.

“Come in.”

And… enter the billionaire’s daughter, on time, on task, and manicured to perfection.

“Madeline.” He didn’t rise from his seat behind the glossy executive desk to greet her. He never did, her silver fox of a father with his rangy physique, piercing blue eyes, and air of ruthless command.

“Dad.” She offered what she hoped was a sunny smile.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you. It feels good to be twenty-five.” Not that she’d done all that much with her life to date but her interior design career was steadily progressing, and she was learning a lot and had proper friends for what felt like the first time in her life.

He nodded. “Good, good. Do you remember the ranch in Montana?”

“Yes.” Did he seriously think she was likely to forget it?

“It’s yours.”

“I’m sorry? I don’t understand. I didn’t even know you still had it.”

“It passed to you when your mother died, and by the terms of her will, it’s been held in trust until you turned twenty-five.”

“But…” There were still all kinds of gaps in her comprehension. “You’ve never mentionedanykind of inheritance from my mother.”

“You were a child at the time.”

“Yes.”At the time.“But children grow up. Why didn’t you ever mention it?”

His blue eyes narrowed as if she’d somehow disappointed him, but that was nothing new. She’d realized years ago that her father found parenting a challenge. He’d supported herfinancially, no question. But he’d pretty much outsourced any other kind of parental role.

He pushed a bulging folder across the desk. “The Serenity Valley ranch is yours free and clear with no taxes owing. The grazing land has been leased to neighboring ranchers over the years and that lease is due for renewal this January. The same neighbors also periodically offer to purchase the place for above market price. I suggest you accept. The house needs maintenance. Ask Symonds to put you in touch with my solicitors if you need more information.”

“I… thought we were going for lunch?”

“Something’s come up.”

“Oh.” It usually did. She hid her disappointment with well-practiced ease. Her father was a very busy man. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you?”

For holding onto her legacy even if he’d kept her in the dark all these years?

For not once saying,Hey, remember the ranch? It’s going to be yours one day so keep that in mind as you plan out your life and continue to exist far, far away from me.

She folded her arms across her middle and then just as quickly dropped them, knowing her pose would come across as defensive. “I mean, yes, of course, thank you for caring for it all this time. I’m a little overwhelmed. But thrilled,” she added. “Definitely thrilled.”

“I’d have sold it years ago and built you a far more profitable asset portfolio, but you have to understand that my hands were tied by the terms of the will.”

“But money isn’t everything.” Possibly not the smartest thing to say to a man who had dedicated his life to conquering the money market and thoroughly succeeded. She reached for the folder. Her mother’s gift from beyond the grave. “I have such good memories of the ranch.”

“I didn’t think you would.” How cool he sounded, but for the small catch in his throat at the very end.

“Well.” Traumatic memories threatened to overwhelm her as she dropped her gaze to the table and tried to take an invisible breath. “Some of them I’d rather forget, but not all. Maybe I’ll spend Christmas there this year and make better memories. Do you remember all the snow? And sledding down the hill behind the house? And the round sunken lounge and the fireplace and the little town nearby? What was its name again? Marietta?” She hurried on, words tumbling because his attention never failed to make her nervous. “You’re welcome to join me there for Christmas if you can find the time?” Not that he would. He was a very important, very busy man, but she never stopped asking. Hope was her friend.

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