Page 80 of Tangled Up

“Good evening, Dr. Munroe.” My father’s valet greets me as I park my Rover in the driveway. “Your father is just finishing dinner. I don’t think he’s expecting you.”

“He’s not, but I don’t intend to stay long.” I breeze past the flustered penguin holding the door for me. “I’m not having dinner.”

“It’s no trouble at all to prepare an additional seat. I’m sure he would love a good, long visit with you.”

Pausing, I squint an eye at the man I’ve only met once, briefly. “You don’t know us very well, do you?”

My question seems to fluster him, and he clears his throat. “I only know what I need to know, sir.”

“I’d like to see my father now, if you don’t mind.”

“Right this way, sir. He’s out on the south patio.”

I follow the man down a long hallway to a glass door leading to the backyard. A stone path leads us through a manicured garden, around a white-tiled infinity pool and out to a rounded balcony made of pink and beige stone.

A breeze wafts in from the shore, but it’s broken by tall, skinny columnar trees planted in a tight row along the edge of the house, blocking the view. It’s so like my father to own a beach house with no view of the ocean.

“Beckham, what an unexpected surprise.” He stands from the small table and walks over to greet me. “Would you like a drink?”

“Scotch neat, thanks.”

He signals to his man. “My son will have a Macallan. Yes? It was your maternal grandfather’s favorite.”

“Whatever you’ve got. I’m sure it’s the best.” A hint of sarcasm is in my voice.

“I also have Johnnie Walker Gold.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not here to drink. I’m here to talk.” I level my gaze on him, and he exhales a laugh.

“Macallan it is. You’re right. I have only the best of everything for my guests.” He returns to his chair, gesturing to the one across from him. “I’m trying to remember the last time you were here.”

“It’s been a while.” After my mother died, I didn’t see the reason to drive all the way out here to his pretentious mansion—especially when he started dating again. “Speaking of guests, I’m surprised you’re alone.”

“It’s Monday. I typically reserve my socializing for the weekends.”

The man reappears with my drink, placing it in front of me before disappearing into the shadows. I lift the glass and take a sip of the smoky, bitter alcohol.

“I won’t take much of your time. I’m here to collect some of my mother’s things, or one thing in particular.”

Ice clinks in my father’s glass, and he forces a grin. “And what might that be?”

“Her wedding ring set. I believe it belonged to her grandmother, so along with the Pearl, it’s now mine.”

He leans back in his chair, and his eyebrows rise. I’d say with interest, but the reality is it's more like surprise. “An engagement? May I ask who the lucky lady is?”

“Caroline Dennison.”

His eyes flash, but the smile remains firmly in place. “I didn’t know you were seeing her again. Last I heard she’d moved to… Pensacola? Dreadful little town.”

“We ran into each other a few weeks ago in Eden, and we’ve been seeing each other ever since.”

“That’s quite a distance to be seeing someone. What is it, eight hours to the panhandle?”

“She’s staying with her aunt Vivienne for a little while. Her aunt had a fall outside the supermarket, but it doesn’t seem to be neurologically based.”

“You would know. Or would you? There’s so much guessing in internal medicine.” He lifts his vodka and takes another, longer sip. “Surgery is so clean, simple. Identify the wrong thing, and cut it out.”

He couldn’t have set me up better if he’d tried. “You’re pretty good at identifying and cutting out the wrong things. Tell me, Dad, what was so wrong with Carly all those years ago?”

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