Page 75 of Phillip

“I can,” Ashley said. “I was weak and a fool, and at the time, there was no one in the world whose approval I needed more than my mother.”

Dad stared at her hard and then turned to her mother. “What does that mean?”

After a silent standoff between her parents, her mother stiffly rejoined them. “I did it for your own good.”

Dad’s brows furrowed. “Hell, Aggi, what did you do?”

“I explained that she had found the wrong Blackthorne.” Her lips trembled though she lifted her chin. “That she had the right type of family that would be a good match, but that Phillip was irresponsible, embarrassing, and would ruin her future—all of which was true.”

Dad’s head dropped. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Damn it. We decided to let her make her own decisions.” He glanced up. “This is why you didn’t take the job?”

“With Mother?” Ashley nodded. “I didn’t know how much manipulation there had been, but I knew that I didn’t trust myself around her.”

“I had your best interest at heart,” Mother added quietly with an unexpected hint of emotion.

Ashley shook her head. “You say that like you haven’t been interfering now with Sean Paget.”

“Well…” Mother’s shoulders slumped.

Dad turned, disappointed. “Really?” A long, unsaid conversation transpired between her parents, leaving Ashley to wonder how much Mother’s actions had been a problem between them. Finally, Dad faced the screen again. “Honey, you need to know that we both love you.”

“Love or not, meaning well or not, actions have consequences. I lost Phillip—I convinced him to donate a car from his father.” She choked up. “Never mind, I have to go.”

“Wait,” Dad said.

“Ashley, I am…” Her mother cleared her throat. “I’m—I shouldn’t have interfered.”

“It’s late.” Her dad rubbed the back of his neck. “You have a big day tomorrow, but we will continue this conversation.” He cleared his throat. “It’s time we do that more often, and we will. But for now, honey, get some sleep.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Phillip ambled through the parking lot lined with classic cars, hot rods, and antiques. He took a long look at a 1965 Shelby Cobra. Its white paint and cherry-red leather seats were enticing, and he took the owner’s business card.

He caught Ashley’s eye as she stood, unable to get away from a ’69 Chevelle. Phillip laughed, having already been caught by the owner who wouldn’t let anyone pass without hearing his nightmare of an internet purchase. Sight unseen, the Chevelle rolled off a flatbed in his driveway with a box of unrelated parts where a 454 Chevy engine should’ve been.

“Excuse me,” Phillip interrupted. “A small emergency has popped up.”

After a quick round of small talk, they made their escape.

“You owe me.” He tucked her under his arm.

“I’ll buy you a snow cone,” she offered as they passed a little girl with a blue face, holding a half-eaten cone.

“Sounds fair.” They worked their way through the maze of restored cars, and Phillip greeted familiar faces that supported his nonprofit year after year.

They reached the snow cone table, appreciated the quick line, and turned toward a stage where the band played for the afternoon sock hop. “The Laumet ladies are in the zone.”

“All’s well that ends well,” she said.

But Phillip couldn’t quite catch her tone. Her smile was firmly in place, though something seemed wrong. “Are you having fun?”

She nodded, crunching into the snow cone. “Though I wouldn’t mind if it were just a few degrees cooler.”

The asphalt didn’t help the heat. “Why don’t you go inside and cool down?” She could take a minute off her feet in their office. “Or do another check of everything for tonight.”

Her grin tightened. “That’s a good idea. I’ll do that.”

She popped onto her toes and kissed his cheek goodbye. Smiles and smooches aside, he still wondered if something was wrong.

---