Except I didn’t want to look like I was trying, either. My fresh jeans and new blouse with pretty flowers embroidered on it said: I don’t want steak. I want a different kind of beef, and from two men. Gimme.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
My doubts had me antsy, and I needed to pace. “It’s nothing but ashes and charred wood,” I explained. “The stone fireplace is still standing, but nothing else.”
He swore under his breath.
“What do you think happened?” I pressed, trying to see how he’d react or what he’d say.
His dark gaze, one that matched mine, flicked up to me as he shrugged. “I don’t know. There was electricity to the place but I don’t think it’s been on for years. There’s a lever to flip at the fuse box.”
“No fuse box now,” I murmured, remembering how it looked as if a bomb had been dropped from the sky.
“Lightning then.”
“That’s what I thought, too.” It was the truth. Grass fires started all the time from lightning strikes. They could be much more devastating than destroying one old cabin.
“It didn’t spread though. Only grass around it caught,” I added, putting doubt into our idea.
Dad leaned forward to grab his empty glass and paused for a second, then picked it up and stood. He went through the open sliding doors and into the kitchen.
The room hadn’t been updated since Mom had done it when I was in second grade. It could use an overhaul, but since she was gone, I hadn’t known my father to make many changes. Her death had messed with him. I hadn’t seen much of the sunny and warm man I remembered since.
“What are you getting at, Alison?” he asked, setting the glass in the sink for Mary, the housekeeper.
He turned and faced me, and I met his gaze. I saw the strong and formidable man I’d known my whole life, but I looked at him a little differently now.
He’d shot those wolves. He’d admitted to it. Been found guilty. Given a fine for breaking the law, which was like a drop in the bucket to the family finances.
“I don’t know. But you aren’t bothered that the original homestead cabin burned down? All that history destroyed?”
“Of course I care, but it’s too late.”
“Too late?” I asked.
He turned away, making me wonder if he had something to hide. Was I being paranoid?
“Mary left a casserole.” He went to the fridge and pulled out the covered dish.
“I’m having dinner in town with friends,” I said.
He glanced at me, then went to set the temperature on the oven.
“I’ll call the insurance company about the cabin in the morning. I assume the paperwork is in the file cabinet in the office?” I said.
With a heavy clunk, he set the casserole on the center island. “We don’t need insurance adjusters out there.”
“It wasn’t on the policy? I’d think it’d have something about outbuildings.”
“I won’t have our rates go up because of a claim on a place that was barely standing.”
The last I remembered, the place had been more than barely standing. That cabin had been built like a log fortress. Small but mighty. Then again, I’d been away for years, and we had rough winters. Maybe the roof had gotten a hole and weather got in. It would easily fall into disrepair if that had occurred.
“I’ll call the adjuster, just in case,” I stated. “You never know how much they’ll—”
“No!” Dad shouted, his deep voice echoing off the tile floor and sturdy walls.
My eyes widened and I stared, stunned by his outburst.
“You will not do that.”
“Just like I won’t talk to the police officers who came to the house yesterday?” I countered somewhat bitterly. I wasn’t used to being dictated to as if I were a child.
I might be his child, but I’d expected to come back as an equal. A partner. Was this why Steven had moved to Spokane? Had my brother up and left because Dad was being an asshole?
“Alison,” he said, the tone of his voice familiar from childhood when I’d done something wrong. I hadn’t been angelic, but I hadn’t been a hellion either.
“I’m not eight, and I didn’t spill nail polish on the carpet.” I set my hands on my hips and glared right back at him. “You’re intentionally not answering my question.”
I hadn’t thought before I’d asked, but I wanted to know. Why was he being so demanding and difficult about the cabin? Was the DEA correct? Had the path Theo had followed led him directly to the source of meth? My father?
“Those police officers like to stick their noses into people’s business.”
“You mean like last year, when you illegally shot endangered wolves?”
“You’re taking their side now?” His shoulders went back, as if hardening himself against what he felt was a personal attack.
“I was stating a fact,” I replied as calmly as I could. “You shot the animals, and you faced the consequences. It’s not the sheriff’s fault you don’t like that he enforced them.”