Page 114 of Luck of the Devil
He was quiet for several seconds, before he said in a nonconfrontational tone, “Is that what your grandparents told you?”
Not a confirmation but not a denial either.
“They had a lot of things to say.”
“I bet.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. “They hated me after Andi died.”
“Funny,” I said, sounding anything but amused. “They said they never blamed you for any of it.”
“But your mother—” he said in protest, then stopped. “Why would your mother say they did?”
“Cut the shit, Dad.” My tone was harsh, but I was holding back the worst of my anger.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked as though it was incomprehensible.
“How long have you been having an affair?”
He released a short laugh. “Who told you that I was?”
“I saw her, Dad. She was at the bank this morning.” I was screwing this up, yet I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
“What are you talking about? What bank?”
“The bank with mom’s safe deposit box. I know about it, and I know you tried to access it. While I was there this morning, your mistress tried to access it too.”
He sucked in an audible breath, then said in a rush, “Harper. You need to stay far away from that woman.”
“She was near me, not the other way around,” I said. “And you’re evading the question.”
“That I’m having an affair with her? I’m not.”
“Please,” I sniped. “I know you had one when I was younger.”
He hesitated. “Yes, I admit to an indiscretion, but that was a moment of weakness.”
“Indiscretion,” I scoffed.
“I’m human, Harper,” he said, sounding exhausted. “And you know how your mother was.”
“Then you should have divorced her, not cheated.”
“I didn’t want to divorce her.” His voice broke. “I loved you girls too much to lose you.”
I started to confront him on what I’d found in the box, but this wasn’t the time or place. I needed to set up our meeting and do this in person.
As though reading my mind, he asked, “What did your mother have in the box?” He sounded fearful.
I had him on the defensive. I could still gain control of this conversation. “Some very interesting things.”
He paused. “Some of it might be damaging to people who highly guard their privacy.”
“You don’t say,” I said flippantly. Then I realized I had my hook. “You want the papers.” It wasn’t a question. It was so obvious.
“You’d just give them to me?” he asked in disbelief.
“I think we should discuss it.”
His relief was palpable through the connection. “Why don’t you come to my house?” he said in a rush as though he was trying to placate me. “Or I can come to your apartment. Whatever you like, but Harper”—his voice tightened—“you need to stay away from that woman.”
