Page 40 of Wicked Takeover
His change in mood confused her. “What?”
He draped his napkin on his lap and smoothed the linen, looking at it rather than her. “How’s the job search coming?”
Sadness welled, reminding her of reality and their situation. This wonderful night was probably a one-time deal. Even if they got together again during the next weeks, that wouldn’t come close to being forever. She’d go on with her life. He’d move on with his. Not wanting to talk about it, she shrugged.
“Your search for a buyer is going as badly?”
Even worse didn’t come close to describing the problems she’d faced. “I’ve put out some feelers. The attorney who handled Frank’s estate said he’d help. I’d only have to take on three jobs, if I could get them, in order to pay his fee.”
Dante made a noise that betrayed his disgust, matched by his deep frown. “If you let it, fucking legal shit will steal your soul and integrity.”
His anger surprised her. He was the most laid-back person she’d ever known. Had someone sued him and he’d lost everything? That could be why he didn’t seem to worry about money or covet it. He knew it only caused problems.
She tried for a lighter mood. “I told him to screw off. I’d handle things myself.”
“Smart move. You need to let the company pay you a salary so you can survive until you sort things out.”
She would starve first. That wasn’t negotiable. “The parlor’s barely making it. I don’t want it to go into debt on my account.”
“Take what you need from my salary.”
“I can’t.”
“You could pay me back.”
“No, I couldn’t. My job was outsourced. Every human resources position I’ve applied to has dozens of candidates who’re scrambling like I am. A multinational has taken over internal HR jobs for corporate concerns, and they’re not hiring. Even Walmart doesn’t want me to run one of their checkouts or greet customers at the door.”
Dante sighed. “You’re making this worse for yourself than it has to be. Frank gave you the place so you’d have something to count on.”
“Count on? Are you serious?” Her sorrow and hurt rose quicker than she wanted or might have expected. She crossed her arms and squeezed them to keep from acting too pissed. “Clearly, you didn’t know Frank.”
“I knew him very well.”
“No, you didn’t. Not like I did—for the short time I did know him.”
Caution replaced Dante’s usually calm demeanor. “Look, I didn’t mean to bring up anything bad. I’m sorry. We can drop it.”
She didn’t want to. All her life, well-meaning people had made endless excuses for Frank even though he’d done nothing to deserve their support. They’d told her there had to be a reason why he’d acted the way he had. That she’d misunderstood or wasn’t giving him a chance.
What about her and her mother? Who had supported them when he left? No one. He hadn’t been man enough to stay and care for the family he helped create. He’d hurt her, devastated her. She’d loved him, but he hadn’t wanted her. Or her mother. He’d left without giving them a second thought.
“I don’t want to drop it.” Too many hard years came rushing back, along with the bad times her poor mother had gone through. “You need to know what kind of man he really was.”
Dante put up his hands. “Not necessary as far as I’m concerned. We can forget about it.”
“Sorry but I can’t. I lived it. Believe me, I’ve tried not to be judgmental. He is my father, after all. But Frank abandoned my mom and me when I was five. He left for work one day, never showed up there, and didn’t come home, either. No call. No nothing. My mom went nuts. She thought he was dead, that someone had killed him or he’d been in an accident and whoever was responsible had covered it up. Social security wasn’t as certain since there was no body, so there weren’t any survivor benefits for seven years until he was declared legally dead. Since my mom hadn’t been working when he took off, no money came in. We didn’t have savings, either, or family to count on. She had to go on welfare to keep us off the streets. She worked as many jobs as she could to take care of me. It made her old before her time. I’m sure it helped kill her. Broken hearts and lost dreams do that. I turned six, seven, ten, twenty, still no word from Frank.”
She ached at her memories of those awful years. Her confusion as to what had happened. How she must have caused it. Her mom’s initial panic and then heartache over a man she’d truly loved.
Lauren hugged herself to keep from losing what little control she had. “All that time we never knew if he was alive or dead. We guessed if he was still around, he’d changed his identity and started another life with a new last name someplace far away, not here. That was the dad I got. That was the man I knew. He turned his back on his own child. He didn’t even have the decency to come to my mom’s funeral. She suffered for years with cancer, with only me at her side when she could have used her husband’s strength and support. No way did he leave me the parlor so I’d have something to count on. My guess is he was staring at his own mortality and figured he better do something decent before he died so he wouldn’t burn in Hell.”
…
Despite her impassioned words, she’d spoken quietly.
Dante guessed it was so that the other diners wouldn’t overhear. However controlled her speech, she trembled from a lifetime filled with betrayal and hurt that no child should have to go through.
If Frank had been here right now, Dante would have slugged him for causing her so much pain. No father should do that to his kid, no matter how fucked up the guy’s life had been.
