Page 63 of The Serendipity

It’s only fair, considering the way I was just prying into her personal life. I slide my clenched hands into my pockets, then lean against the doorway, feigning a casualness I certainly don’t feel when talking about my family.

“I guess you didn’t google me?”

There’s the head tilt again. “Should I have?”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

I pause, measuring the best way to start the conversation. I don’t usually have this conversation. Have Ieverhad this conversation? Anyone I’ve ever dated already knew me and knew my father. Maybe that’s one reason none of my relationships ever worked.

That, and my inability to form a connection that wasn’t surface deep.

“Archer,” Willa says, her voice as soft as her blue eyes. “You don’t have to talk to me about this. I shouldn’t have pried.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her, and it is.

Though I don’t speak of my childhood or my upbringing often, I’ve had to give answers for the occasional interview I couldn’t avoid. I have pat answers prepared.

“I never knew my mother. She left right after I was born and died not long after. My father raised me. Or rather, my father hired a series of nannies to raise me. He was busy building hisempire and finding new women to marry.” I manage to keep the bitterness from my voice. Barely. “So, no, my family was never close.”

Willa looks as though she’s tempted to say she’s sorry. I’m glad she doesn’t.

“You used past tense,” she says quietly. “Does that mean you’re closer now?”

“My father is going to jail.” The words come easier now that I’ve started. Or maybe it’s simply easy talking to Willa.

Her face goes slack. She tries to corral it into a more casual expression but then gives up and stares with wide eyes. “Jail? Did he murder someone?”

She whispers this last part, and I cough to hide my laugh. There’s nothing funny about murder. But if she knew my father, a mousy little coward of a man, she might understand why it’s funny. It’s like asking if a tiny dog scared away a pit bull.

“He’s been charged with a whole slew of white-collar crimes. Interesting that your mind went straight to murder.”

Willa bites her lip to hide the smallest of smiles. “Too many true crime documentaries, I guess. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize on my behalf. He should go to jail. He’s guilty.”

I don’t mention that if it weren’t for the fact that we split off our businesses years before, I would have been implicated in my father’s crimes. Or that he actively tried to implicate me.

More like … he tried to make me take the fall.

I wasn’t shocked when I heard about his arrest, but I also didn’t know about his actions. If I had, I wouldn’t have stood by silently, even if it put me in the awkward position of having to turn in my own father.

Which isn’t so different from the position I’m in now that he’s appealing. His lawyers keep calling, and I keep blocking them. Whatever they want from me, I don’t want to give them.

“How do you … I mean, how is—” Willa stops and drags a hand through her hair. One piece falls over her eye, and she blows it back before speaking again. “That’s a lot to process. Are you okay?”

This is a question I’m rarely asked. And when I am, my answer is quick.I’m fine.I always am. Even when I’m not.

But here, in an office so cluttered I normally can’t think much less speak, with a woman I don’t know quite well enough to trust, I find myself wanting to give an honest response. Wanting to mull over her question rather than let it slide by.

AmI okay?

The short answer is yes. My assets are protected. My business is mostly fine, other than the stain brought by association with my father. Though I’ve done everything possible to cooperate with the investigation, the press wants more of a story. It creates a strain with investors, the board, and has even degraded trust with lower-level employees. There’s doubt in the looks I receive now.

Now, the best thing is for me to be away from the city. Hence my relocation to Serendipity Springs, taking on this venture as a distraction. A challenge. Which … I am admittedly not good at. The residents hate me, and though I shouldn’t care, I do. Reminding myself the changes are part of a long-term goal isn’t much of a comfort. I’m also not sure how I’ll actually make any changes when I couldn’t get an exterminator to return my phone calls.

Willa is on track to accomplish that, and more.

Maybe Galentine’s stories about the building weren’t so far off, and The Serendipity has deemed me unworthy, foiling my communication.

---