“This is ridiculous, Mary. Get your things. You’re coming home.”
“I am home,” she said, sitting down on the couch and crossing her arms in front of her chest.
Declan watched as his father reached for his mother’s arm. She jerked it away. “Stop, Tom! You don’t own me. You can’t just show up here and demand I jump to your command.”
“Damn it, Mary—”
“Don’t you curse at me,” she spat, interrupting him, and then looked at Declan. “Are you going to let him curse at me?”
Pressing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, Declan prayed for patience. “Both of you sit.” Declan issued the order because he really didn’t know what else to do. His father started to speak. “Please just sit.”
After a bit of argument, Declan managed to get one on each end of the couch. A little more resistance and he managed to get them talking. An hour into it, his father was on his knee in front of his mother promising he’d change. They’d take a vacation and fall in love again. Declan agreed to watch over the firm, but even as he made the promise he knew it complicated his life all the more. It felt like the weight of the world had decided to plant two feet on his shoulders. Zoe…she really mattered to him. Even while watching his parents argue and then make up, he kept thinking about her. He had to fix things. She needed to know about his firm and her father. Then, he’d go to work Monday, meet with Ray and the DA in place of his father and see what he could do to make this go away. He hoped. He needed a good look at the case file.
With that thought in mind, he was ready to leave. To go see Zoe and tell her what he should have last night. He said his goodbyes and headed for the door. Noting the newspaper on the hall table, Declan reached for it. “You going to read this, Mom?”
But he didn’t hear her reply. A picture of him with Zoe stared back at him. A picture sure to destroy every ounce of trust he’d earned with Zoe.
* * * * *
Monday morning came with dread. Declan and her boss had been calling and calling. She hadn’t taken either call. Zoe knew what her boss wanted. A story and a reason why she made the other papers look good. Declan had even tried to call that morning. By now, she’d thought he’d get the idea…she had nothing to say to him except “go to hell”. She’d half feared he’d show up at her door but after his attempts Saturday he seemed to give up the in-person attack. Maybe he was afraid of her making a scene and then both of them ending up in the papers again. Dinner the night before with Lucy had helped though she’d barely eaten. Talking had done her more good than anything.
Zoe pulled open her desk drawer and inserted her purse right about the time she heard her name bellowed across the room. “Zoe.” Angry pause. “My office.”
“Morning to you too,” she mumbled under her breath as she grabbed a pen and paper. Thank God Lena wasn’t here yet.
She appeared in Frank’s doorway and found hostility in his round face. He ran his hand over his bald head. “You don’t know how to answer your phone?”
“You called?” she asked, not moving from the archway. “I, um, dropped it and it’s been acting strange.”
“Right,” Frank said. “And I have some swamp land for sale.”
Being talked down to really was not high on her list today. “Enough, Frank. We both know what you’re upset about. Don’t take petty jabs.”
His eyes narrowed on her face and then his expression softened. “Sit down, Zoe. You look like you might fall down if you don’t.” She nodded and pulled his door shut before sitting. “You didn’t know who he was, did you?”
She shook her head, unable to find her voice.
Frank mumbled several obscene words. “Want me to punch his face in for you?” Zoe laughed but even to her own ears it sounded forced. “You’d do anything for a
story, now wouldn’t you, Frank?” she teased. “Even make the front page yourself.” He leaned forward, thick forearms resting on the scuffed-up desk. “I’m serious.”
She smiled. “You are something, Frank. One minute you’re mad because I didn’t get you the story and the next you are ready to beat someone up for me.” She paused. Maybe Declan needed to learn a lesson. “When this is over and I’m sure it won’t hurt my father, I’ll give Lena a damn good story to write.”
His brows dipped. “If there’s a story to be written, you do it.”
“That’s not my kind of story. She can write it.” Zoe pushed to her feet, feeling a little emotional and not wanting it to be noted. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk.”