"I can't believe it," Jillian said, anger in her voice. "Mom just called me. She told me Dad is in the hospital."
"I know. I found out last night. I couldn't believe she didn't tell us before now. She's known for days."
"She said you forced her hand. She didn't want to tell us at all."
"It was wrong of her to keep the information from us."
"She was trying to protect us," Jillian said, her anger turning to defense.
"We're adults. We had a right to know." Her hand tightened on the phone. "He might die, Jillian. Do you realize that?"
Her sister let out a sigh. "I don't know what to think about any of it. It doesn't even seem real."
"But it is real. Our father was attacked, and he's fighting for his life alone in a hospital, thousands of miles away from here."
"Are you going to see him?"
"I've been thinking about it. I'm tied up at the moment watching my friend's child. It's a long story, but I probably can't do anything before Friday at the earliest. I'd have to get someone to cover my class and get a plane ticket. I wish I could just jump on a plane, but it's not that easy."
"Maybe you don't want it to be easy, and you're looking for reasons not to go. I don't blame you."
"That's not it at all," she said. "I'm not looking for excuses. I just have responsibilities."
"Well, it probably doesn't matter. Mom says he's unconscious. Even if you go, he won't know you're there."
"He might wake up."
"And if he doesn't? What are you going to do? Sit by his bed and talk to him? What would you even say? Are you going to tell him you're sorry for leaving, for not answering his letters? Are you going to let him off the hook for everything he did to Mom?" While there was anger and bitterness in Jillian's voice, there was also fear and frustration.
"I don't know," she murmured. "It's all so complicated."
"Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. But it doesn't erase everything that he did or didn't do, like love us, care for us."
"He did love us," she argued. "He made a lot of horrible mistakes, but I think there was love."
"You always want to think there's love," Jillian said harshly. "You're such a romantic, and I don't know how you can be after witnessing all the anger and pain of our parents' relationship."
"There were some good times early on. I've been remembering them lately. I was thinking last night about the parties they used to have. We'd sneak down the stairs to spy on them. They would drink champagne and gossip about their friends with the Fergusons and the Conovers and then they'd put on music and dance until midnight."
"God, Grace, that was so long ago."
"But it happened. It was real. They loved each other for a while."
"Until Mom saw Dad for who he really was."
"She didn't have to cut him off from us. She didn’t have to urge us to get rid of his name."
"Is that what this is about, Grace? You feel guilty for shutting him out of your life?"
"He did end up alone."
"Because of his actions, not yours. You didn't do anything wrong, Grace. You didn't deprive him of a father-daughter relationship that he never actually wanted to have. We didn't leave until we were teenagers. There were a lot of years in there where he could have been a good parent."
Her sister was right about that.
"I don't want you to feel guilty, Grace," Jillian continued. "You didn't put him in that hospital bed. You didn't destroy the family. You didn't betray him by choosing Mom. None of this is on you."
"I wish it were as black and white as it used to be," she said. "But lately, I'm questioning everything."
"So, what are you going to do, Grace? Are you going to Ireland?"
"I'm still thinking about it."
"I can't believe I'm offering this, but do you want me to go with you?"
She was shocked at her sister's words. "But you just said—"
"I know what I said. But you're my sister. If you need me to go with you, I will."
"Well, I appreciate that. I'll be done with babysitting later tonight. Then I'll decide."
"Let me know."
"I will." She set down the phone as Ian appeared in her doorway, wearing dark jeans and a gray sweater under a black coat. God, he looked good. Her mouth literally watered when she saw him, and she had to force some air back into her chest. "Hi."
He smiled. "Am I too early?"
"No, you're right on time. Tyler is in the back, washing the paintbrushes."
As he entered, his gaze swept the classroom. "Your room is very…colorful."
She laughed. More than a few of the other teachers had told her that her classroom put theirs to shame, but she just couldn't help herself. She loved putting up the students' artwork, whether it was paintings on the wall or rainbow streamers from the ceiling, or math puzzles and alphabet blocks on the chalkboard.
There were also books and books and more books, everywhere the eye could see. She'd created a reading corner for afternoon free reading time that was filled with cushions and bean bag chairs. In the opposite corner was an art area where budding creators could express themselves through paint and clay and other mediums.
"I know it's a little much," she said. "I can't seem to stop myself. I see something cute or fun and I want to put it up. But trust me, the kids do some serious learning here, too. There's nothing I like more than opening their minds to something new and interesting."
"Including science?"
"Of course. I'm really not that narrow-minded, at least not when it comes to seven-year-olds and their science curriculum."
"Glad to hear that. We can always use more brilliance coming through the ranks."
"I bet there was a lot of brilliance at your conference today."
"Definitely. Also a lot of blowhards, but don't tell anyone I said that."
She liked that while Ian obviously took his work seriously, he could also be dry and sarcastic. "Your secret is safe with me."
As his gaze settled on her face, her stomach fluttered, and she was right back to where she'd been the night before—wanting to kiss him, wanting to touch him. But just like before, Tyler was really, really close. In fact, he was coming out of the back room, a smile lighting up his face as he saw Ian.
"Ian," he said, running across the room.
Ian looked a little surprised when Tyler literally jumped into his arms. But he caught him and held on. Ian might think of himself as a dedicated scientist, but he looked like a family man right now…a man she might want in her family.
"Hey, buddy. How was school?" Ian asked.
"It was good, but I want to finish my volcano now."
"So do I. I've been thinking about it all day." He paused. "Where is the volcano? At your house or Tyler's house?"
"Tyler's house. I took it there yesterday."
"Great. Are you ready to go? I'll follow you there."
"You could have just met us there," she said. "Since you were there last night, you knew the address."
"I wanted to see your classroom."
"Really? Why?"
"I was curious."
"And…"
"It looks like you—warm, welcoming, creative, a little chaotic. It feels like a place where dreams start, and I can't imagine any better environment in which to teach children."
She was actually touched by his description. "Thanks. Let me just check the back room, and then we can go."
"Take your time."
She made sure everything was in good order, then returned to her desk, grabbed her bag, and headed out to the parking lot with Tyler and Ian. Tyler was talking a million miles an hour to Ian, who seemed able to follow the random conversation enough to give an answer when required.
"Sounds like you had a busy day," Ian told her as she got Tyler into the backseat of her car.
"We did accomplish a lot. I think the snow day was a good break. Everyone returned with new energy." She paused. "So you'll follow me?"
"I w
on't take my eyes off you," he promised.
She flushed at his words, her toes curling at the look in his eyes. Thank goodness she still had Tyler—for at least a few more hours anyway.
* * *
True to his word, Ian didn't take his eyes off Grace's car on the short drive to Tyler's house. Nor could he stop looking at her while they shared an afternoon snack at the kitchen table and finished off the purple volcano and its surrounding terrain. Despite the amount of attention that Tyler required, his gaze kept drifting back to Grace.
Unlike yesterday, she was an eager contributor to the science project, and he was impressed with not only how creative she was, but also how often she encouraged Tyler to understand what he was actually building. She was determined to make it a learning project and not just art, and he appreciated that.
They ordered in Chinese takeout for dinner, and while the volcano was drying, they moved on to the rest of Tyler's homework.
He really wanted to talk to Grace about Seamus, but that would have to wait until Tyler was off to bed or his grandparents arrived. Grace had told him that the last text she'd gotten hours ago had said their plane was delayed.
He felt a little guilty hoping that that delay wouldn't prevent them from arriving tonight. He wanted to get Grace on her own, and it wasn't just to talk about her father.
At a little before eight, they heard a car outside, followed by the doorbell. Grace went to get the door, and a few moments later, Tyler's grandparents entered the room. Sally was a short, plump blonde. Her husband, Burt, was a balding man with a big smile. Tyler let out a squeal of delight and jumped off the couch, launching himself into their arms.
As the three of them hugged, Grace looked over at Ian, and he could see how touched she was by their emotional reunion. He knew she wasn't just thinking about Tyler seeing his grandparents; she was imagining the same kind of scene with Tyler's parents. He really hoped that would happen one day very soon.
They spent the next half hour talking with Sally and Burt, but eventually Grace said good night to Tyler, told him she'd see him at school, grabbed her bag, and then followed Ian outside.
Her car was parked in the driveway; his was on the street. He stopped by her vehicle as she opened the back door and tossed her bag onto the seat.
"What do you want to do now?" he asked. "Go back to your place?"
She hesitated, then glanced at her watch. "It's eight thirty. It's not that late. I was thinking maybe I could try to find Westley. Unless you already spoke to him today? I've been wanting to ask you all day if you found out anything about my father, but I didn't want to bring it up in front of Tyler."
"I know. I felt the same way. I saw Westley, but I didn't talk to him about your father. Harry was mobbed after his keynote, so, unfortunately, I didn't get to him, either, but I did do some research into your father's activities before he went into academia."
"Did you find out anything?"
He really wished he didn't have to crush the hopeful gleam in her eyes. "I know he worked with at least a half-dozen people who are here at the conference. I've been told, as you have, that there's bad blood between your dad and Harry Ferguson. But, honestly, any number of his projects could have put him in danger, if that's even what happened. We still don’t know if the attack was work-related or tied to a disgruntled student."
She sighed. "So we're not getting anywhere fast."
"Well, it's possible the police investigating the accident might have more information. Maybe you should try to talk to them."
"I did actually call there this afternoon, but I was told that the detective was out, and he hasn't gotten back to me yet. Hopefully tomorrow."
He nodded. "I hope so. I'm sorry I didn't get you more information."
"Don't be. This is not your problem."
"I want to help."
"I would still like to speak to Westley. Do you think he's hanging around the hotel?"
"Most people seem to be at the bar every evening."
"Then let's do that."
"Okay. I'll follow you there."
"Still keeping your eye on me?" she asked with a smile.
He smiled back at her. "I can't seem to stop, Grace."
* * *
Grace felt reassured by Ian's headlights in her rearview mirror. True to his word, he stayed right behind her until they parked about five spots away from each other in the hotel lot. He met her as she got out of the car. She shivered in the cold night air, taking a moment to zip up her coat. It wasn't snowing, but it was freezing, and they walked quickly into the hotel.
It wasn't until they neared the lobby bar that she realized her black boots, leggings, and dark-green sweater under her gray coat were well-suited for teaching seven-year-olds, doing yard-duty at recess and building a volcano for a science project but not so much for having cocktails in the fancy bar at Silverstone's.
She paused in the doorway. "I should have changed my clothes," she muttered.
"You look great," Ian said.
"I don't look like anyone in here." She tipped her head toward the crowded bar area, where many of the women were wearing cocktail dresses.
"Oh, well, some people went out to dinner, but you're fine." He gave her a reassuring smile. "You're actually the most beautiful woman in this room."
"I thought you said you didn't lie," she retorted.
"I'm not lying. When I look at you, that's what I see."
Heat warmed her cheeks. "You can be very charming, Ian."
"And you can be far too modest. Hold your head up. No one holds a candle to you in here."
She couldn’t help but be flattered by his appraisal. Did he really see her that way? Or was he just trying to boost her confidence? In the end, it didn't matter. She wasn't here to mingle but to get information on her father.
"Grace?"
She spun around at the sound of her name, seeing Westley approaching. He looked very sophisticated and handsome in his obviously expensive suit and silk tie.
He kissed her on the cheek. "I'm so glad you came over. I still owe you a drink."
"Uh, all right." She gave Ian an apologetic smile and allowed Westley to escort her to the bar.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an attractive blonde and another handsome man join Ian. She felt marginally better for abandoning him the way she had.
"What's your pleasure?" Westley asked.
"A glass of chardonnay would be great."
He ordered the wine for her and a shot of whiskey for himself. After the bartender handed them their drinks, he found two open barstools. Clinking his glass against hers, he said, "To you, Grace. To old friends getting reacquainted."
She nodded and took a sip of her wine.
"So how are you?" he asked. "I heard about your father last night. I'm sorry."
"You don't even like my dad, do you?"
"I still wouldn't want something to happen to him."
His words felt genuine and maybe they resonated, because she felt a little the same way. "I appreciate that, Westley."
"How's he doing?"
"He's unconscious. I don't know much more than that."
Westley nodded. "Do they know who attacked him?"
She shook her head. "No. I feel like it must have something to do with work he did before he started teaching. You mentioned that my father betrayed yours. Can you tell me what happened?"
Westley stiffened. "You don't think my father had something to do with the attack on your dad, do you? Because that is ridiculous."
"I—I don't think that," she said quickly. "I'm just trying to understand what kind of person my dad was. I always heard he was brilliant and well-respected, but I didn't know that guy. And when I heard the other day that my dad had had a falling out with yours, I wondered what that was about."
"I don't know the details, Grace, but my father said Seamus took something from Draystar that belonged to the company and not to him. And he's been trying to get it back for years, but your father claims it'
s his intellectual property. It's a he-said, he-said kind of situation."
"So your dad never tried to get this back through legal channels?"
"No. He always told me it was a private matter, but that I should never trust anything Seamus Donelan had to say. Quite frankly, I was shocked at the anger and animosity my dad held toward your father. They used to be best friends. On the other hand, your parents used to be married, and I always thought they were good together, so what did I know?"
"I guess no one knows what a relationship is about except for the people who are in it," she said, sipping her wine.
"Ian said you don't talk to your dad."
"Not in ten years."
"But he sends you things?"
"Yes, most of which I send back unopened. I suppose it's his way of reaching out to me." She paused. "Do you know of anyone else who might have a grudge against my father?"
"I have no idea, Grace. Your dad was brilliant, but he was ambitious. You step over people on the way up, sometimes they take you down when they catch up to you."
"I never pictured him as that ruthless."
"Oh, he was—he definitely was."
She didn't really know why she would be surprised by his words. Her mother had said much the same thing. It had just never jibed with the man she knew.
"Let's talk about you," Westley continued. "You're a teacher now?"
"Yes, second grade. I love it."
"You were always good with kids. That summer we spent together, you used to play with the younger children in the sand, helping them build sand castles."
"That's because they let me play with them, whereas you and Jillian used to ditch me."
He smiled. "Sorry about that. How is your sister?"
"She's fine. She lives in Sonoma."
"Wine country—nice. Is she married?"
"Nope, still single."
"Hard to believe no one has taken either of you off the market."
"I don't think of myself as on the market, Westley."
He laughed. "Sorry, didn't mean to offend."
"Tell me about you. What's your life been like?"
Closer To You (Callaways Book 11) Page 15
