Page 42 of Always a Bridesmaid
The cat was out of the bag. Bright and early Monday morning, her father had texted, “A little bird told me you’re in Uncertainty. We should grab coffee tomorrow afternoon.”
Violet wondered if Dad truly hadn’t known. Yes, she’d kept a low profile, but she suspected there’d been mention of Maisy’s sister. Or, at the very least, a woman helping redecorate the bakery.
Instead of letting that sliver of doubt dig deeper under her skin, she decided to congratulate herself on her ability to lay low.
Thanks to Ford getting her out of the bakery in time.
Conversely, he was also the one who’d challenged her to a game of pool, so those two things might cancel each other out.
“Did you want something to drink yet, ma’am?” a teenage boy in an apron asked.
What she wanted was for him to stop calling her ma’am, but in this part of the south, there was no fighting it. Yay for respect—if only it didn’t make her feel so old.
“I’m still waiting.” Violet gestured to the empty chair across from her when the kid seemed confused. “Remember how I told you earlier that I was here to meet somebody?”
Kid. Guess Iamold.
“Oh. Right.” He shook the hair out of his eyes. “It’s just been twenty minutes, so…”
Violet worried her brittle smile would shatter and reveal how very aware she was of the time. Her heart twanged with each beat, the pumps sending alternating bursts of doubt and justification.
No wonder she hadn’t told Dad she was in town. The guilt she’d pretended not to feel over not visiting since Maisy’s wedding dimmed.
Why had Dad asked her to meet him at the coffee shop? To stand her up and remind her how much she embarrassed him? Both by daring to be born and again recently, when felon was added to her rap sheet?
Mason earns heaps of praise for how far he can toss a football, but no one mentions my stellar golf swing.Joking about her life fails helped her cope, but today’s feeble attempt wasn’t enough to combat the sting.
Her eyes burned, and pressing a fingertip to the corner confirmed that, yep, tears were forming. Violet scooted out her chair, ready to hang her head and take her leave.
Then the door swung open, and there Dad was. Dressed in a suit, dark hair contrasting his ivory skin and combed in the same conservative style as always, though it’d thinned, and strands of gray glimmered under the overhead lights.
He strolled over and plopped in the seat across from her.
Violet waited for a “sorry I’m late” or an explanation of why, but it never came. Instead, he tugged at the lapels of his jacket and studied a menu he must’ve read a hundred times.
“Hello, Father. Good to see you.” At least her sarcasm was fully intact.
He cast her the briefest glance. “You, too. What would you like to drink?”
The overly formal greeting had gone over his head. If only it’d slammed into his face and shaken loose some emotion. Ugh, why couldn’t she stop caring? Why did it hurt every single time he showed how little he cared in return?
“What I’m really hankerin’ for is a cupcake,” Dad said.
“We should’ve met at Maisy’s, then.”
“Nah, Cheryl goes in there too often.”
Ouch.
Her face must’ve dropped, because Dad stretched out his arm and patted her hand. “I didn’t mean it that way. You know how Cheryl gets whenever you visit.”
“Guess that means you didn’t tell her we were meeting up this afternoon.”
“I…” Dad pressed his fingertips to his forehead and exhaled. “I’m planning on it. Heaven knows there’s no such thing as a secret in this town. She’ll likely hear about it before I get home this evening.”
And the hits kept coming.
Comprehension spread across his face. “Not that I’m hiding it. Work’s been extra busy, so I simply haven’t had the chance to mention it.”
