“Dad, are you all right?”
He looked startled when I used the word dad. He stood and rounded the desk, sitting across from me in the other visitor’s chair. He clasped his hands in front of him, hunching forward.
“My daughter had to be rushed to the hospital because of me. I hit a young man I barely know. I find out my daughter is pregnant and leaving the company.” He drew in a shaky breath. “The worst part is the young man I hit told me some very hard truths about my life. About what I’ve done. Or, to be more accurate, what I haven’t done.”
Tentatively, he reached over and took my hand. I stared down, recalling how it had felt when he’d held my hand as a child. I’d always felt safe. Loved. Strangely, there were still echoes of that feeling in my heart now.
“Josh died because he was sick. Not because of you. I’m sorry I never told you that. I’m sorry I was never there for you, Lottie. I was so lost in grief, so angry because I was so helpless—unable to save my son, to stop the pain that ripped my wife apart, to ease the heartache in your eyes…” His voice trailed off. “I forgot to be the parent I needed to be, or the husband I should have been. This place—” he waved his hand “—was the one thing I could control, and I poured everything I had into it.”
For a moment, the room was silent. He stared down at our hands. “I have been such a blind fool. I gave everything I had to this place instead of to your mother and you. Instead of cherishing the family I still had, I mourned what I lost. And now, it’s all gone.”
“No, Dad. Mom is still with you. She’s trying.” I swallowed. “I’m here.”
He looked up, and I was shocked at the glimmer of tears in his eyes. “To say goodbye.”
I shook my head. “To get my things, hand in my keys, and perhaps start a new path for us. Father and daughter. Not boss and employee.”
“You’ve always been more than that, Lottie. I was always so damn proud of you.”
“You never told me that.”
“I know. Another mistake.” He kept his eyes on the floor. “I thought at times, if I loved you too much—you, too, would be taken away from me.” He laughed, the sound bitter. “Except I did that by myself. I drove you away.”
“No,” I whispered, repeating myself. “I’m here, Dad.”
He tightened his grip on my hand. “I know your mother talked to you, and you offered her your forgiveness. I’m asking for the same, Lottie. Give me a chance and let me be part of your life. I’ll do anything if you let me try.”
I was reeling. What I thought was the end with my parents seemed to be the beginning. Could I forgive them and forge a relationship with them? The child in me wanted it—she wanted their love and approval still. The adult was a little leerier, but still hopeful.
“You need to apologize to Logan. You were horrid to him.”
“I know. I will meet the boy and talk to him.”
“He is not a boy.”
My father chuckled. “He is to me. Just like you’re still my little girl.”
Those words made me gasp. I hadn’t been his little girl since that awful day in the hospital. He lifted his shoulders in understanding. “You always will be,” he added gently.
There was a knock on the door, and my father stood, going to the door and speaking quietly with someone on the other side. He returned and sat at his desk.
“I, ah, have some papers for you to sign.”
“Of course,” I replied, straightening my shoulders.
“Our talk isn’t over, Lottie. I thought perhaps you would like to continue it someplace you’re a little more comfortable.” He glanced around. “Someplace you hate less.”
“I don’t hate the office, Dad. I hated my job,” I replied.
“Yet you did it so well.” He shook his head. “Would you have hated it less if I had told you that more?”
I thought about it. “It would have made the days less painful, thinking you noticed my work and appreciated it, but no, Mom was right. This place was Josh’s dream, not mine.” I huffed out a sigh. “I should have been honest and told you that.”
“I didn’t make that easy, though, did I?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Then let’s finish it here today. No more boss and Charlotte.” He looked hopeful. “Maybe we can work on Lottie and Dad—when you’re ready.” He paused. “Maybe Grandpa—if you let me.”
“I’d like that.”
“All right. Let’s get you out of here and home.”Half an hour later, I sat back down in the office, a small box beside me of the few items I had at my desk, including my little clock. I’d turned in my company cell phone and my keys, grateful that Logan had picked up a new cell phone for me to use. I signed the papers, accepting the check for my holiday time, unused sick days, bonuses, and a severance package my father insisted I take. It was a generous amount, even after taxes.