Page 6 of Caden's Situationship

“I know that, Harper, but I love this business. You know that. I’ve dedicated the last decade of my life to it.”

“And changed a lot in the process,” she added. “Cordelia, I love you like a sister, but over the years, I’ve noticed that you seem less and less like yourself and more of a combination of Grams, your mom, and your dad. You’ve lost yourself and the sweet cousin that I grew up with became hardened on the outside. Maybe Lance is doing you a favor by sending you away for three weeks. You need a vacation and it won’t take you the entire time to do an analysis of this client, right?”

“I could get the work done in three days. Four max.”

“That’s what I thought. So word of advice, use this time to focus on you. Not Red Rose. Not that damn Dallas town you live in. Not your parents or anyone else in our family. Just you.”

I let her words flow through me, soaking in her confidence. “You’re right. I’ll take this time to figure out my next move. And maybe after all this, you and I will take a girls’ trip or something to catch up.”

“You know me. I’m always down for a trip!” We continued chatting for a bit until I’d calmed down. Harper was right—as she usually was when she gave me advice. I didn’t know who this Cordelia was and I hadn’t known her for a very long time. We were way past due for a heart to heart moment, and if staying in some small country town over a luxury resort in Cabo was the answer to my problems, then I’d find it.

The last thingI wanted to do after the day I’d had was go to my parents’ estate for dinner. Especially now that I knew my dad had conspired with Lance to discuss me spending three weeks in no man’s land.

I rang the doorbell, still perturbed by the fact that my parents refused to give me a key to their home even though I grew up here. They lived in an affluent neighborhood right outside of Dallas called Dandelion Hills. My parents were two of the wealthiest people in the Dallas area, with deep African American roots and rich history that dated back generations. While my father was well-known for his role at Red Rose Investment Firm, my mother was the epitome of a posh socialite. She was current president of the Dandelion Dolls, an elite group of women committed to upholding the Dandelion Hills traditions and history. There’s no one who wouldn’t describe her as chic and elegant. Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t blessed with either of those traits.

The door opened precisely fifteen seconds later, just as expected. In Dandelion Hills, things were rarely unexpected, so it was normal for folks to open their doors within the first thirty seconds.

I smiled at the butler. “Hello, Mr. Hughes. How are you this fine evening?”

Tom winked, his blue eyes sparkling and welcoming as he and stepped aside to let me pass. “I’m good and dandy, Miss Cordelia. No complaints here.”

“Are my parents already seated?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll escort you to the dining room.”

As I passed the kitchen, I waved to Patty, Tom’s wife, who was also the cook of the estate. I’d known Tom and Patty, for most of my life, so it was safe to say they were like grandparents to me, even more-so than my blood relatives.

Even though I knew my way around the home, I followed Tom since not following him would have been disrespectful. He announced me when we reached the grand room.

“Hello, Mama. Daddy.”

“Glad you could finally join us,” my father said, letting me know he didn’t appreciate that I was two minutes late for dinner.

“I apologize for my tardiness.” Per usual, they were seated at each end of the table, so I took my seat between them just as Patty began to bring out the meal my parents usually requested. Lemon chicken with a pea puree, green beans, and mashed potatoes. Basic to me, but it’s what they liked.

Conversation flowed with the usual topics of politics, business, and the latest Dandelion Hills couple to announce they were getting a divorce. Being an only child, my responses were often robotic, filled with, “Oh my word,” and, “What in the devil happened?” Occasionally, I’d block out the monotony of subjects by tossing in a, “Did you watch the latestReal Housewives of Dallasepisode?” Which often resulted in my father rolling his eyes, while my mother pretended not to hear me even though I knew she watched the show.

If it wasn’t juicy gossip or something my parents deemed important—which was typically anything that revolved around them and their trivial world—they didn’t want to hear about it.

By the time dessert arrived, I was antsy to leave. Usually, I was able to ignore the burning desire to interrupt the dinner norm by talking about something that was bothering me, but I couldn’t hold back and finally asked my father, “Why did you feel it best for me to spend three weeks in Arkansas?”

He clenched his jaw, not even granting me a look in the eye. “It will do you some good to spend some time in a place other than Dallas and surrounding areas.”

“I’ve been to plenty of places outside of Dallas, but if that’s all you wanted, you could have sent me to Cabo San Lucas or someplace less … country.”

“Arkansas is no more country than Texas,” he said, firmly.

“Father, it’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“How do you know that, dear?” my mom asked. “Your father told me it wasn’t that far from Little Rock.”

“Well, it sort of isn’t,” I muttered. “But that’s hardly the point. Don’t you think it’s unprofessional to invade a client’s hometown by overstaying your welcome?”

My father shook his head. “You won’t be overstaying your welcome. It’s already been decided, and quite frankly, you don’t have a say-so in the manner.”

“Of course I don’t,” I whined. “Because I’m a female employee and what could I possibly have to offer the company other than babysitting a client in a town no one has ever heard of?”

When he finally looked my way, his eyes were filled with disappointment. “My sister-in-law, rest her soul, was one of the best in the business, so it has nothing to do with you being a woman and everything to do with you not understanding your place in this family.”

---