Page 4 of Colton's Last Resort

Cautiously, she asked, “What does Clive want?”

Adam chuckled a little as he always did when she called their father by his given name. “He didn’t say.”

She ran her tongue over her teeth. “Is he bringing Glenna?”

“He didn’t mention her,” Adam said, referring to their stepmother of four years. Laura imagined it seemed odd to him still, too. Clive’s string of mistresses hadn’t been a well-kept secret. He’d fathered a fourth child outside of his marriage to Annabeth. Dani had come to live with Adam, Laura and Joshua in Los Angeles for a time. Laura had been only too happy not to be the only girl, and the four of them had been all too aware of Clive’s neglect.

Laura had never forgotten that, and she’d never been able to forgive Clive for his carelessness or whims. She knew his affairs had been one reason Annabeth had escaped time after time to Arizona. She’d loved Clive, despite his faults and mishandlings. The heartbreak and embarrassment of knowing he had looked for companionship elsewhere...that he had married her for her money...it had been too much for Annabeth to bear.

No, Laura had never forgiven her father, even if Glenna wasn’t like the other women. She was close to Clive’s age, for one, and beautiful, like his mistresses. Unlike the others, she was mature and independent. She even owned her own business, and it was a successful one.

It didn’t mean Laura’s father had turned things around. He’d had little to do with his children’s upbringing. Annabeth had raised them practically on her own until the cancer had taken a turn for the worse when Laura was just twelve years old.

“I thought we could arrange Bungalow Twelve for him,” Adam continued as he shuffled papers in the file spread on the table in front of him.

Laura pursed her lips. Adam was a businessperson, not a bitter man or a hard one. The snub was subtle. Every bungalow at Mariposa was luxurious, but only bungalows one through ten featured a private outdoor pool and were prioritized for VIP guests. She rubbed her lips together, considering. “You don’t think he’ll notice?”

Adam picked up a pen and made a mark on the latest budget report he’d likely stayed up late last night reviewing. “Notice what?”

Adam wasn’t petty either. Neither was she, Laura told herself as she made a notation in the notes app on her phone. “Bungalow Twelve,” she agreed. “When are we expecting him?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“And when is he departing?”

“He didn’t say that either.”

“He can’t just come and go as he pleases,” Laura pointed out. “We have guests coming in after him, and the concierge and Housekeeping require notice.”

Adam lifted his eyes briefly to hers. Even sitting, he looked lanky despite his broad shoulders. His blue eyes matched hers, and his medium-blond hair was never not short, trim and stylish, even when the rest of the world was waking up. People liked to think he’d been born in a suit, and if she hadn’t grown up with him, she’d wonder, too.

“I’m sure you’ll let him know when he arrives. Let’s move on.”

Laura made another notation about her father’s visit and did her best to ignore the unsettled feeling that pricked along her spine.

“The wedding on Valentine’s Day weekend,” Adam continued. “I’m assuming everything’s on schedule?”

“I spoke to the mother of the bride yesterday,” she explained. “They’ve asked for another three bungalows, as the guest list has expanded.”

“A little late for that.”

“I said we could do it,” she admitted, “as long as they agreed to cap the number there.”

He let loose a sigh. “I’ll have to adjust the price points. How many more plates is that for the reception?”

“Five adults, four children.”

He scrawled and started talking numbers.

“We need to talk about this year’s anniversary celebration,” she interrupted. Mariposa had opened on Valentine’s Day almost twenty-two years ago. “Since the wedding is on Valentine’s Day, I propose we move the celebration to Wednesday, the eighteenth.”

Adam stopped counting to consider. “That works for me.”

“We’ll have a bandstand, like last year,” she said, ticking items off her list. “Live music, hors d’oeuvres, cocktails and fireworks. And you’ll make a speech.”

He raised his gaze to hers. “Will I?”

“Yes,” she said, beaming. “People like to hear you speak.”

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