“Let’s sit over here,” George said, motioning to the two maroon leather armchairs in front of his massive cherry desk.
“Is Mom joining us?”
“She’s downstairs arranging lunch.” So she was on the premises, but not present? Morgan studied her father, the stiff way he sat, the slight unsteadiness in the hands that reached for the single folder on top of his desk.
“What’s going on?”
He put the folder on his lap, with his hands on top of it.
“I want you to know I don’t blame you.”
“For what?” What did the folder contain?
“You do your best. I believe that.”
“What’s going on, Daddy?”
“As your mother al
ways says, you’re a good girl.”
Morgan stared at him. “I’m a grown woman.”
He handed her the folder. “Maybe there’s more I could have done with you, should have done with you… .”
She held the folder, but was too confused by what he was saying to look inside.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
He met her gaze, his brown eyes the same brown as hers and Sammie’s. His face was lined. For the first time in her life, her father looked old to her.
“Your mother has made a point, Morgan. She’s shown me that in one thing I was wrong. Your choices in men aren’t your fault, Morgan. They’re mine. Your mother says that girls are attracted to men like their father. She pointed out that you choose men who are as you see me—someone who will expect things of you, expect you to listen to them and believe what they say, without listening to you or what you need.”
The concept of her father listening to her mother was novel to her. His admitting that he was wrong…? Unbelievable. But his conclusion about her choice in men was utterly wrong. “Look in the folder, Morgan.”
Slowly, keeping an eye on her father, Morgan did as he asked.
After glancing at the letterhead, the papers had her full attention.
Her father had hired a firm she’d never heard of to do a private investigation.
Caleb and Frank Whittier were the names on the first line.
Her first reaction was anger. The kind that blinded you for a second. How dare he do this? How dare he bring Frank and Cal into their fight? How dare he have her friends investigated?
And then, although she wasn’t proud of it, she read on. Only the initial paragraph of the report, at first. The part that gave the investigator’s opinion that Frank Whittier was a danger to Sammie.
“Where did he get his information?”
“I’m not sure and I didn’t ask. This guy does what he has to do. When we saw Sammie over the weekend every other word out of his mouth was about these men—Cal and his father, Frank. I had my regular team run a check on both of them. Your professor checked out, but they couldn’t find any recent mention of Frank anywhere, so I hired someone.”
“You couldn’t just accept that they’re good people?”
“No.” Her father shook his head. “We found so much nothing that it bothered me. Frank has not owned a home in more than twenty-five years. He hasn’t held a job that we could find. He hasn’t even had a mailing address or a driver’s license.”
“Frank works as a janitor,” she told her father. “He’s a retired schoolteacher.”
“He didn’t retire from teaching, Morgan. He took a forced resignation after he was held for questioning in a criminal case involving a young child in his care.”