by Sara Orwig
“Lunch would be a good idea. Are you familiar with San Francisco? I live in Carmel, but we’ll have more privacy in San Francisco.”
“San Francisco sounds fine,” Blake answered, shocked that this was actually happening.
“Good. There’s a restaurant that’s popular—Patterson Place. How’s that?”
“I’ll make reservations for two. How about Thursday at noon?”
“Thursday is good. I’ll be there.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you there.” He was tempted to ask how they would recognize each other, but held off. He knew he would at least recognize his father.
The call ended, and Blake wondered whether the man would actually show.
* * *
On Thursday Blake arrived twenty minutes early and ordered iced tea, then settled back to wait. It wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be to recognize Dirkson Callahan. Blake was mildly shocked, because he looked more frail than Blake had expected. He was thin and wrinkled, with white hair around his face and streaking his black hair. He wore wire-frame glasses, which was another surprise—but Blake had been a small child the last time he had actually seen his father in person.
Blake stood when he saw Dirkson survey the restaurant crowd and pass over him without another glance. Blake threaded his way across the room and was halfway to the front before the older man spotted him and waved slightly, coming toward Blake. He headed back to the table.
Continuing to stand, he waited until his father reached him and offered his hand. Blake had wondered if his father would even give him the courtesy of shaking hands. “Mr. Callahan,” he said, feeling a strange mixture of emotions that flashed through him like lightning.
In his memory, his father had always loomed as powerful and formidable. In reality, he was not threatening in any manner. Blake could see only a faint family resemblance, and Dirkson didn’t give the appearance of wealth or success. He could easily be the wealthiest man in the restaurant, but Blake didn’t think anyone who saw him would even remotely guess he had such wealth unless they knew his identity.
To Blake’s surprise, he experienced a streak of guilt. Through all his efforts to damage his father’s hotel business, Blake had envisioned an opponent who was strong, powerful and invincible, not the elderly gentleman facing him. Dirkson had to have someone handling the media, and he must be using photos from several years back, or touched-up photos.
“Have a seat, sir,” Blake said politely, still studying his father intently.
“Blake, please don’t be so formal. It’s a little late for Dad, so why don’t you call me Dirkson? There’s no more need for you to address me as Mr. Callahan than there is for me to call you by that name.”
Blake had to smile. “Fine. It does seem awkward.” As they sat facing each other, Blake continued to study his father, noticing details, curious about this man who was a mystery and a stranger, even though they had the same blood in their veins and might be more alike than either one wanted.
Curiosity nagged at Blake. “Did you drive from Carmel?”
Amusement seemed to lighten Dirkson’s features momentarily. “No. I don’t drive. The limo will be waiting when I’m through. Rudy brought me here, and when I call him, he’ll come back to pick me up.”
“Cade said to tell you hello.”
Dirkson merely nodded as he opened the menu and read. He closed it within seconds. “I’ve heard the ahi tuna is good here. So, Blake, you’re all grown up now. I know your business is good. You’ve done well.”
Surprised that his father knew anything about him, Blake smiled. “Thank you. I have done well. My office is in Dallas, and part of the time, when I can, I stay on Granddad’s ranch, which he left to me.”
“So, it’s your ranch now.”
“Yes, it is.” They paused while a white-coated waiter took their order, and then Dirkson gazed at Blake. “You’ve done well with your hotels, too.” He looked amused, which surprised Blake.
“Yes, sir. I’ll admit I had goals in mind when I started the luxury hotels. They’ve achieved a certain amount of success, and I’m moving on to other things. You won’t see any more of my hotels near yours. I’ll admit I had a lot of anger stored up.”
He looked into his father’s dark brown eyes and felt very little for the man who was really a stranger—not even the anger or resentment he’d held on to for so long. He knew very little about this man except what he had read in magazines and newspapers. His mother never talked about him, and even as a small child, he suspected she didn’t want to because Dirkson had hurt her badly.
“The years go by and change a person. When I look back, I realize I made mistakes, but that bit of wisdom has come years too late to do any good.”
His words shocked Blake, and he wondered what mistakes his father thought he had made and whether he was talking about family relationships.
“You and I have never talked,” he continued. “I’m a stranger to you. You called me Mr. Callahan. Well, it’s my fault, and at this point in life I have regrets, but I can’t undo what I’ve done and there’s no use in trying to win your friendship now. Or in trying to get closer to my other sons.”
“It might be too late for us, but there’s the next generation. You know you have a granddaughter? Nathan is married and has a baby girl.”
“Yes. I have a secretary who keeps up with all of you and keeps me posted. I’ve seen pictures of Nathan’s baby. I’ve never talked to her mother. But I’ve opened a trust fund for the baby.”
“That’s nice, sir,” Blake said, wondering if Nathan even cared. “This grandchild might give you a second chance with your offspring. You can try talking to this little baby, and maybe she will at least know you’re her grandfather. Twenty years from now she won’t address you as Mr. Callahan.”
“True enough, but I’m afraid I know little about children.”
“You don’t have to,” he said, remembering Sierra’s advice about entertaining kids. “When she gets bigger, get a child’s book to read to her. Children are forgiving, and she’ll like you if you just give her a little attention and talk to her.”
“How is your mother?”
“She’s fine. Doesn’t know I’m here. She’s in Patagonia with friends right now. She travels a lot.”
“I admire you for the success you’ve had and for the competition you gave my hotels. When I realized what you were doing, I was curious to see if you would succeed, and you did amazingly well. That took some gumption and some good decisions.”
“Thank you. Any competition from me is definitely over,” Blake said, feeling a hollow sense of victory. He didn’t care to try to get to know his father now, after all these years and after such a deep hurt in childhood, but he had lost his anger.
“I’m sorry about the way I behaved with all my sons. I don’t know any of you, and I doubt if any of you care about me any longer.”
“I can only speak for myself, but after all the years, frankly, sir, no, I don’t care.”
“That’s honest.” They paused as the waiter brought their lunches, ahi tuna for his father and a thick, juicy hamburger for Blake.
“Your call was a big surprise, but I’m glad you did. You’re an adult, and it’s time we met. When all of you were babies, I thought money was so important. It turns out it’s not that important at all. It seems that way when you don’t have it, or when you’re young and trying to acquire it. I wanted money and power and I left my family behind.”
“I think in some ways you set an example for us—sort of what not to do.”
“If it keeps any of you from feeling the way I do when you’re my age, then that’s good. You said no more hotels, so what will you do? What’s your focus now?”
“Ranching, and I still deal in commercial real estate. I’m not giving up either of those endeavors. I have some good property in this state.”
“Yes, you do. I told you—I keep up with my sons. I’m proud of all of you.”
“I suppose I need to say thank you,”
Blake said, surprised at how well this lunch was going.
They ate in silence, and Blake thought of all the years of anger, when he was growing up and as an adult. Now that he was finally with his dad, he could see there was no longer any reason for anger. Pity was the strongest emotion evoked by the man across from him.
Sierra had been right that it was foolish to try to get revenge at this point in life. What else was she right about? Would it matter to her if he told her that he’d had lunch with his dad? Or would she even listen to him if he tried to call her?
They continued to eat in silence, and he wondered if that was really all he had to talk about with his father.
“One more nugget of advice from your elder. Pay attention to what’s important in your life,” his dad finally said. “I didn’t pay attention in my own life, and I can’t undo that now. There is no going back.”
“Yes, sir,” Blake said, thinking about the people who had come into his life in the past month. “Sir, there’s a way you can help someone else, and maybe help some little boys who don’t have dads. I’ve been seeing a woman, and she runs a nonprofit agency that helps people. They have a shelter for homeless children. I have her card,” he said, thinking about William.
He withdrew his wallet to get Sierra’s card and handed it to his dad. “I went to a picnic with her—homeless kids who live in a children’s shelter run by her agency attended. Some of these kids don’t have either parent. There are kids you could help with a donation.
“I didn’t plan this ahead of time, but I thought of it now because of our conversation. I met a little boy at that picnic. William has never known his dad, and his mother was killed. William lives in the shelter, and he has clothes, but nothing else—not a bicycle, not a ball, nothing. You might help him or other kids. It won’t be your own sons, but those kids will know someone cares. That would mean a lot to a child.”
And Blake knew it was true. All that Sierra had said—about doing good, about helping others—somehow it had sunk in. There was good in the world, sometimes, and he suddenly understood her better than he had before.
Nodding, his father took the card and put it in his pocket. “I’m glad to have talked to you today, glad you called. With the hotels and all, I figured you were really angry.”
“I was, but it doesn’t matter now.”
“You’re smart to recognize that. It really doesn’t matter. Don’t ruin the things that do matter.”
“Yes, sir, I’m trying not to,” Blake said, thinking again about Sierra. “It was nice to have lunch with you. I have a plane waiting, and I need to go. Can I call the limo for you?”
“Thanks. I’ll get it. Good luck, and call again sometime, if you’re in town.”
“You can’t imagine what those words would have meant to me when I was a little kid,” Blake said softly. His dad merely nodded. Blake turned away, walking out of the restaurant feeling as if a weight had lifted and some old hurts had been laid to rest. He wondered if he would ever see or talk to his father again.
He had to talk to Sierra. Had she moved on with her life and put all thoughts of him aside? Was she already wiping out memories of their time together? She could never put him completely out of her mind—not with a baby between them. But he wanted more than a child with her. He wanted a life.
But before he could strategize how to win back Sierra, there was currently one person waiting to hear about lunch: Cade. When Blake was seated in the jet, still on the ground and waiting for clearance to take off, he called his half brother.
“Lunch is over and so is the competition. Cade, he’s an old man. He told me to call him Dirkson. He says he has a lot of regrets, and I believe him.”
“You didn’t tell him off for what he did?”
“I’m all grown up. It just doesn’t matter anymore.”
“I can’t believe I’m talking to the same Blake. I haven’t seen him in a while, but we’ve seen him all through the years and you haven’t, so you probably notice bigger changes. Well, maybe you’ll sleep better now. And maybe he’ll sleep worse,” Cade said, laughing. “Would serve him right, but he probably sleeps like an old dog in front of the fire.”
“That’s my cue to stop talking to you. My plane is taking off.” He could hear Cade chuckling as Blake ended the call.
He stared at his phone, wanting to call Sierra. He missed her, and he hoped he hadn’t permanently ruined his chances with her.
He needed a way to win her back.
He’d tried going out with friends, but even with the most charming ones, his mind wandered until he was lost in memories of being with Sierra. Today, with his father, it had been her voice whispering to him about William and the good he and his father could do for a child.
When he was alone at night, too many times he had reached for his phone to call her. He knew now he would never be able to move on, and he hadn’t expected it to be this difficult to figure out what to do next. But then, nothing about her had ever been simple. She still complicated his life, even when she wasn’t present and he hadn’t talked to her for days.
The thought that he might not kiss her again gave him a hollow feeling. The thought that she might be out of his life, except as his baby’s mother, made him hurt.
He hadn’t been turned down before by a woman who really mattered to him. Getting turned down by Sierra felt as if he had lost something valuable. He wanted to tell her he had dropped the hotel business, that he was no longer bent on revenge, that he’d even reached out to his father. But he couldn’t because she wouldn’t even take his calls.
He stared into space and saw her blue eyes and her thick, silky brown hair. He remembered her laughter. He remembered everything about her. With a groan, he shook his head.
He was in love with her.
He thought about his conversation with his father. Don’t ruin the things that do matter. He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t lose her. He didn’t want to be like his dad—a man filled with regrets.
Why hadn’t he recognized the depths of his feelings sooner? Could he ever win her love after all the things he’d said and done? He couldn’t even get her to take his calls!
He picked up his phone to call her—and got her voicemail.
There had to be a way to reach her. And a way to make her listen.
* * *
Sierra stared at the papers on her desk without seeing them. Instead she saw Blake’s dark brown eyes, his smile and his thick, black hair. She missed him—and with each day she missed him more instead of less.
She couldn’t forget him. She couldn’t even shake him out of her thoughts. She didn’t want to marry him, but this being away from him was terrible. She knew she was in love with him. And that romantic part of her wanted to marry him. But what if they married and he never fell in love with her? Would that kind of one-sided marriage work?
She ran her fingers through her hair and massaged her temples. His revenge plan still chilled her. Hot tears threatened, and she wiped her eyes in hurt and annoyance.
She couldn’t concentrate on work, and she didn’t think it was healthy to be so glum, but she couldn’t see a solution to these feelings she had for Blake. If she could just stop thinking about him…but everything in her life reminded her of him.
How long was she going to cry over him and miss him? Was she making a huge mistake by not saying yes to his proposal?
* * *
Early Wednesday morning, Nan informed Sierra she had a call. Sierra didn’t recognize the name, but she took the call anyway.
When the call ended, she stepped into Nan’s office. “That was a man representing Dirkson Callahan. He’s made an appointment to see me, and he’ll be here this afternoon at one.”
“Dirkson Callahan? Mercy. Do you think he’s here because you’re carrying his grandchild?” Nan asked.
Sierra shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. Dirkson Callahan wouldn’t even talk to his own son. Why would he be interested in a grandchild? Besides, he has a little gran
ddaughter. Blake’s half brother has a little girl and Mr. Callahan has never made overtures to her.”
“What would he want to see you about? If he’s making a donation, he’d send it in the mail.”
“I don’t think that’s what it is.”
“This will send Bert into a frenzy trying to figure out what’s going on. Speaking of Bert—when he checked on the children’s shelter, he said Blake had sent a bat and three balls—a baseball, a soccer ball and a football—plus a baseball glove and new tennis shoes to William. He also sent new balls and gloves to the shelter so they’ll have more equipment.”
“That’s good news,” Sierra said, surprised and pleased.
“Bert said Mrs. Perkins at the shelter told him that Blake Callahan stopped by to see William. Are you still not taking his calls?”
“Yes,” Sierra said, shocked and lost in thought. Blake had taken the time to see William. She didn’t want to think about why that made her feel warm and hopeful. “He went by there. So he’s been in Kansas City?”
“Sierra, talk to him. You didn’t know he was here because you won’t take his calls.”
“That’s amazing that he’s been out to see William. Did Mrs. Perkins say anything about William joining the other kids?”
“Yes, she did. He’s been making friends. She said once he started talking to the other kids and playing with them, he seemed to like being with them. She said he’s changed a lot. He’s still shy with her and other adults, but not with kids.”
“That’s really good news,” Sierra said, surprised and pleased. “So Blake did help. I’ll tell him how great that was.”
“So you’ll talk to him?”
“I’ll think about it. I’m happy for William. I might just send Blake a text.”
Rolling her eyes, Nan left Sierra’s office. Sierra turned back to her desk, thinking about William, about Blake being in Kansas City and not calling, and about someone coming this afternoon who was sent by Dirkson Callahan. The last was the most puzzling to her.
At one o’clock, Nan ushered in a man she introduced as J. Wilson Sedgewick, who represented Dirkson Callahan.
