Legacy

by HELEN HARDT

  No reason to worry.

  I hoped, anyway.

  Clomp. Clomp.

  Footsteps that could only mean George Steel.

  He marched into the kitchen, trailing bits of dirt from his boots. I felt sorry for Belinda. She’d have to clean up his mess. But I guessed that was what they paid her for.

  He didn’t speak to his wife or son. He nodded at me. “Daphne.”

  “Hi, Mr. Steel. Nice to see you again.”

  “You too. What’s for dinner, Belinda?”

  “Filet mignon wrapped in humanely raised bacon.” Belinda winked at me.

  “Say what?” Mr. Steel said.

  “Mr. Brad’s request. We’re also having twice-baked potatoes, broccoli with almonds, and fresh peaches from the orchard.”

  He nodded and sat down at the kitchen table. “Table’s not set.”

  “We’re eating in the dining room.”

  “Just for four of us?”

  “Mr. Brad’s requ—”

  “Yeah, yeah. I guess I should change.” He stood and left the kitchen, clomping down the hallway.

  Mrs. Steel smiled at me. “Don’t mind him, Daphne. He’s just being himself.”

  Was I supposed to laugh at that? I wasn’t sure.

  “Daphne knows how he is, Mom,” Brad said. “I’ve warned her.”

  “At least he remembered me,” I said. “Is there anything I can do to help, Mrs. Steel?”

  “Honey, call me Mazie. Belinda has everything under control, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Miss Mazie. Potatoes and veggies are already on the table. How do you like your steak, Miss Daphne?”

  “Medium rare. And please just call me Daphne.”

  “Try it rare,” Brad said. “A Steel filet is best served rare. It’ll melt in your mouth.”

  “He’s right,” Mazie agreed. “Make them all rare, Belinda.”

  “You got it,” Belinda said. “Go ahead in. These filets won’t take long on the grill, and I’ll bring them in. Salad’s already tossed and plated.”

  “Thanks, Belinda,” Mazie said, “but I suppose we should wait for George.”

  “We can at least sit down, Mom,” Brad said. “Come on.”

  Brad took my hand and led me back toward the front door. Across from the formal living room sat the formal dining room. I hadn’t noticed it when I came into the house because it hid behind two ornate swinging doors.

  My eyes went round.

  First, it was huge. The dark wood table could easily seat a party of twenty or more. Did the Steels ever have that many people over for a formal dinner? Second, it was wallpapered in a white and gold paisley pattern. No wonder Mr. Steel didn’t want to eat in here. It really wasn’t him. It was Mazie, though.

  “This is beautiful,” I said to her. “Did you decorate it?”

  “I did,” she said and then chuckled. “George hates it.”

  “If your dad hates it in here,” I said to Brad, “why did you insist we eat in here?”

  “Because my mom likes it, and I knew you would too.” He grinned.

  “Yeah, but if your dad—”

  “Forget about him,” Mazie said. “We deserve to eat in a nice room every once in a while.” She walked to the head of the table. “This is George’s spot. Brad, hand me the place setting at my spot.”

  Brad grabbed the plate and utensils and handed them to his mother. She set them down next to one of the settings on either side of George’s place.

  “I don’t particularly want to scream down the table to be heard,” she said. “This is much nicer. Daphne, you sit here, between George and me, and Brad, take the place on your father’s other side.”

  We sat at our designated places and waited for Mr. Steel. Belinda came in and poured us each a glass of ice water and a glass of red wine.

  Then we waited.

  And waited.

  “For God’s sake, Mom,” Brad said. “What’s taking him so long?”

  “You know your father. He’s on his own time schedule.”

  “He’s never late for dinner,” Brad said.

  “Except when we screw up his routine and insist that he eat in this room. He’s having a silent temper tantrum.”

  “But we have a guest.”

  “It’s okay, Brad,” I said. “I don’t mind waiting.”

  Brad stood. “Well, I do. Everything’ll get cold.”

  Belinda brought in the platter of steaks as Brad walked out of the room.

  Mazie smiled at me. “Brad is nothing like his father, thank goodness. He’s a gem.”

  I warmed. “I think so.”

  “He’s my first and only, and he’s my life. I couldn’t be prouder of the man he’s become. You never love anything the way you love your child. You’ll understand what I mean when you have a child of your own someday.” She patted my hand.

  I simply nodded.

  That day would come sooner than she imagined.

  A few minutes later, Brad walked back in, followed by his father.

  George Steel sat down at the head of the table and said nothing. Simply began passing dishes around. We filled our plates in silence.

  “Daphne,” Mazie finally said, “tell me a little bit about you and your family.”

  I took a serving spoonful of broccoli, placed it on my plate, and handed her the bowl. “I’m a freshman, though Brad probably told you that. My parents live in Westminster, a suburb of Denver. I got a full scholarship to Stilton based on my grades in high school.”

  “How wonderful! We value intelligence, don’t we, George?”

  Mr. Steel nodded but still said nothing.

  “What do you want to study?”

  “I haven’t chosen a major yet, but I’m leaning toward English and creative writing.”

  “What do you plan to do with that major?” Mr. Steel said, his voice gruff.

  I suppressed a shiver. My cheeks were so hot, they must have been the color of a red delicious apple. It was a valid question, and I had no idea how to answer it.

  “She’s been in college a month, Dad,” Brad said.

  “So? You knew what you were going to do at that time.”

  “Yeah, but not too many people grow up on a ranch they’ll someday own.”

  “He’s right, George,” Mazie agreed. “Don’t let him put you on the spot, honey.”

  I took another bite of broccoli and chewed. He had put me on the spot, but the fact was, I wouldn’t finish that major anyway. I’d be living here, raising a child. Their grandchild. Only they didn’t know that.

  By the end of this meal, they would.

  And George Steel was not going to be happy.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Brad

  My father was in asshole mode. He didn’t push Daphne any further on her major, though, thank God.

  When I’d gone to his bedroom to prod him into dinner, I’d thanked him profusely once again for helping me with Wendy, which hadn’t helped his mood.

  Yeah, he was glad I was done with Wendy, but he wished I’d been able to accomplish it on my own.

  Indeed, I wished the same.

  But that wasn’t what he was pissed about.

  He wasn’t pissed about eating in the dining room, either.

  A major contract had fallen through this afternoon, and he had a migraine.

  Not a good combination.

  Still, I’d promised Daphne we’d tell my parents our news tonight.

  I wasn’t sure that was a great idea now. At least Belinda had put some wine on the table. A glass of wine might not help my father’s headache, but it would at least calm him down a little.

  Maybe.

  I took the initiative, brought my goblet to my lips, and took a sip of wine, hoping he’d get the idea. Why he’d decided to grill Daphne on her major was beyond me. She was eighteen.

  When he didn’t take a drink of his wine, I took another.

  Finally, he picked up his glass and took a sip.

  Finally.

&nb
sp; Daphne cut into her filet and took a bite. Her eyes widened. She swallowed. “Wow, Brad. You were right. This is perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so smooth and savory and delicious.”

  I smiled.

  “Best beef in the country,” my father said, this time offering Daphne a small smile.

  “It is,” my mother agreed. “It was like discovering meat for the first time when I had my first taste of Steel beef.”

  Dinner went smoothly after that. Daphne didn’t realize how much of an impact she’d had on my father. Compliment his beef, his livelihood, and he calmed down.

  My Daphne. Here I was, trying to get my father to drink and relax, when all I needed was the beautiful girl across from me. Daphne could bring any man to his knees, including my asshole father. Maybe this would work out tonight after all. I smiled at Daphne.

  She looked away shyly.

  And I loved her even more.

  I was hers. Forever. She had me under her spell, and I didn’t ever want to be released. This beautiful, ethereal creature, who had been through so much, had no idea of the power she wielded over me.

  I vowed to be worthy of it.

  Worthy of her.

  My father had loosened up—two glasses of wine helped—by the time Belinda brought in dessert and coffee. He’d even had a few kind words to say to my mother.

  Daphne met my gaze, her eyes questioning.

  I nodded.

  It was time.

  “Mom, Dad,” I began.

  “What is it, honey?” my mom replied.

  I cleared my throat. “Daphne and I have some news.”

  Daphne looked down at her lap, her cheeks flushed.

  “Oh my.” My mother regarded her.

  She knows.

  The words flew into my mind.

  “It will be all right,” Mom said.

  “What the hell are you talking about, Mazie?” my father boomed.

  “I’m not talking about anything. Your son is trying to talk to you.”

  My father harrumphed and turned back to me. “What is it?”

  “Daphne, we… We’re going to get married.”

  “For God’s sake,” my father said. “Why the hell—” He stopped, looking sternly at Daphne. “There’s only one reason a twenty-two-year-old and an eighteen-year-old get married.”

  My mother nodded. “Do you feel okay, honey?” she asked Daphne.

  “Yes. I feel fine.”

  “How the hell did this happen?” my father roared.

  “Probably the same way it happened when Brad was conceived,” Mom said.

  “I’m not talking to you, Mazie. And we were already married.”

  Daphne still looked at her lap, and her head trembled a bit. God, no. Please don’t cry. I’d personally deck my father if he made Daphne cry.

  “We were careful,” I said.

  “Apparently not careful enough.”

  Daphne’s head jerked up. “He used a condom. I witnessed it. We were careful.”

  My mother patted Daphne’s hand. “We believe you, sweetheart.”

  My father gazed at Daphne, and—I couldn’t believe it myself—his eyes softened.

  Fucking softened.

  “A grandchild,” he said, his voice still gruff.

  “Yes, George, a grandchild.” My mother smiled. “But are you two in love?”

  “We are, Mom,” I said. “I know it’s soon, but I knew as soon as I saw her.”

  “Love at first sight doesn’t exist, Brad,” my mom said.

  “Maybe not,” Daphne said. “But fate does.”

  My father regarded Daphne again, his gaze still soft. “A grandchild.”

  “It’s wonderful news,” Mom said. “Perhaps Daphne is right. Perhaps it’s fate.” She looked over to Dad. “George? What do you think?”

  “I think I’m happy to have a grandchild.” He met Daphne’s gaze. “Thank you, my dear. Thank you for giving me a grandchild.”

  Daphne looked down. I couldn’t tell, but I believed she was touching her belly. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “The first of many, I hope,” Dad said.

  My mother frowned then.

  Of course. He couldn’t resist giving her a metaphorical punch in the stomach. My father was being kind to Daphne, to the woman I loved. Why couldn’t he save a tiny sliver of kindness for his wife, the mother of his child? That she couldn’t have any more children after me was not her fault.

  Still, though, Daphne…

  She was a magical creature. She’d softened my father.

  No one else could do that. No one.

  Only Daphne.

  She was too perfect for this world, as her father had said.

  Too fucking perfect.

  I vowed, then, to give her the perfect world she belonged in. She and our child would want for nothing as long as I lived and breathed.

  I’d create a legacy for my wife and children—a legacy bigger and grander than my father’s.

  A legacy worthy of the woman across from me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Daphne

  “I don’t need anything fancy,” I told Mazie in the greenhouse later. “My parents can’t afford a big wedding.”

  “We can afford it. I want you to have everything.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe the effect this has had on George. He actually smiled at dinner.”

  “I certainly didn’t expect that,” I said. “Not after Brad told me how gruff he is.”

  “He is. He’s usually a jerk.” Mazie cut one of her pale-green tulips. “You’re probably wondering why I’m still with him.”

  “No. It’s not my place to wonder anything like that. No one can know what goes on between a husband and wife.”

  “You’re wise, Daphne. Believe me, I thought many times about leaving, but I stayed for one reason and one reason only.”

  “Brad,” I said.

  “You got it. He’s everything to me, and George would have fought with everything he had to take him from me. So I stayed, and I think Brad is a better man for it.”

  “Brad is a wonderful man. If you had something to do with that, I owe you a lot.”

  “He got his work ethic and knowledge of the business from his father, of course. I’d like to think I’m the one who taught him the finer things in life, like how to love. And he loves you, Daphne. I can see it in his eyes.”

  “I love him too,” I said shyly.

  “I know. I see it in your eyes as well.”

  “I know we’re really young…”

  “You are. But at least you won’t have to worry about money. That’s something.”

  I cleared my throat. “I hope you don’t think—”

  “That you’re with Brad because of his money?”

  “I’m not. Not at all. We used a condom.”

  “I believe you. I believe in my son. He knows how to prevent pregnancy. George and I both made sure of that.”

  “Sometimes I feel like I should have done more. Like be on the pill or use a spermicide or something. But I can’t bring myself to be unhappy about the baby. Yeah, it wasn’t in my immediate plans, but it’s mine. Mine and Brad’s. That’s pretty special.”

  “It’s very special,” Mazie said. “I know you’re young, but I’ll help you. I’m sure your own mother will be happy to help you as well.”

  I smiled but didn’t reply. My own mother was a mess at the moment. Maybe a grandchild would help to bring her out of it. I didn’t know. I had to depend on my father to take care of her. I’d do what I could, but my first priority was my own baby. I touched my belly.

  “Do you want a boy or a girl?” Mazie asked.

  “Either is fine with me, but this is a boy.”

  She smiled. “You’re sure?”

  “I know it sounds silly, but I know it’s a he.”

  “We’ll find out in May,” she said. “Now let’s talk about this wedding.”

  “I really don’t want—”

  “Pleas
e, don’t worry about the cost.”

  “I’m not worried about the cost.” How could I tell her I couldn’t have any kind of wedding if my mother couldn’t be there?

  Mazie rambled on and on about decorations and flowers and guests.

  I simply stared at the pale-green tulips she was cutting into a bouquet.

  I’d sworn never to be a colorless flower again. So I wouldn’t be.

  “Mazie…”

  “Yes?” She looked up from her flowers.

  “I don’t want a big wedding. It’s not me. Please.”

  “Oh.” She smiled weakly. “Whatever you want, Daphne.”

  “Brad and I have talked. It’s just easier to get married at the courthouse.”

  “I understand.” She went back to work on her tulips and said nothing more.

  And I felt like the colorless flower.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Brad

  I sat in my father’s study, in one of the comfortable chairs across from his desk.

  “Thank you, Dad,” I said, “for being so kind to Daphne.”

  “She seems like a nice young woman.”

  “She is. And I do love her.”

  “I know you do.”

  I arched my eyebrows.

  “Don’t forget, I was in love once,” he said. “Your mother was nearly as beautiful as your Daphne.”

  “I know. I’ve seen the pictures.”

  “You look a lot like her. It used to bother me. It doesn’t anymore. I know you’re mine.”

  I cocked my head. Had he once thought I might not be his? Could that have been the catalyst for how he treated my mother?

  “She and I… Well, you know all that.”

  “Why, Dad? Why couldn’t you…” I shook my head.

  His countenance grew stern, and he looked down at his desk. “I’m not going to talk to you about this. A man’s relationship with his wife is his own business, and certainly not his child’s.”

  I nodded. I’d remember that if he ever tried to get involved in my relationship with Daphne. I’d throw his own words back at him.

  “I’m not proud of everything I did,” he said.

  I nodded again. What could I say? I’d wanted to murder him on more than one occasion.