Wish I Might (Wishful 5)
A figure straightened from the wall lining the courtyard. “Hey, Peanut.”
She stumbled to a halt. “Dad? What are you doing here?”
“Since you’ve gone incommunicado, I thought it best if I caught you out here.” He pulled her into a tight hug, and Cecily burrowed in, needing the comfort of family.
“Sorry about that. Life got…”
“Complicated?” he suggested.
Understatement of the year. She pulled back. “Is everything okay at home?”
“Oh sure. The gala was a big success.”
She’d forgotten that was last night. Even though she hadn’t actually wanted to go, hadn’t wanted to face any of the people she’d disappointed, she still felt a pang. At least the people who’d taken over in her stead had made a success of her vision. “Glad to hear it.”
“Why don’t we go get some coffee and have a chat,” her father suggested.
He obviously had something on his mind or he wouldn’t have flown across the country to see her. But Cecily knew him. Frank Dixon wouldn’t get to whatever it was until he was good and ready, so she fell into step beside him, hunching her shoulders against the chill, gray day. They strolled in companionable silence to a nearby coffee shop, saying nothing until they’d placed their orders and claimed a booth by the window.
“So how did your interview go?”
How to answer that question? “The interview itself went fine. I just don’t think the position is a good fit.”
Her dad nodded. “Seems like that’s been happening with a lot of the possible options for jobs since you finished grad school.”
“I’m not dragging my feet, Dad, I swear. I just—”
He laid a hand over hers. “I never said you were. Stop putting words in my mouth. I’m not pushing you into anything, just making an observation.”
They each settled back in their seats. Cecily wracked her brain, trying to think of some way to explain what she wanted to do that the family would accept.
“You know, there’s nothing wrong with not being sure of exactly what you want to do right now. Few people land in exactly the perfect career straight out of the gate.”
“That’s not the problem. I do know what I want to do.”
“Then what is the problem?”
Cecily bit her lip. “I don’t think the family is going to like it.”
“So what?”
She couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”
“So what? I mean, provided you aren’t planning on becoming an exotic dancer or something, why does it matter what the family thinks? It’s your life, Peanut.”
“Because I’m a Davenport.”
“You’re as much a Dixon as a Davenport. And Dixons have no problem making their own way.” He leaned forward, eyes intent on hers. “Don’t live your life based on what you think the family expects. The only thing any of us expects—and I include Cecil in this—is for you to do work you love, that you value. Just because most of us happen to do that within one of the arms of the Davenport holdings doesn’t mean you have to. You have nothing to prove. To us or anyone else. You have nothing to make up for.”
Cecily’s throat went thick with unshed tears. If she could’ve scripted what she wanted to hear from her family, this wouldn’t have been too far off. She swallowed past the lump. “How…How did you even know I was worried about all of this?”
“First, tell me what it is you really want to do. Even if that’s coming back to head the Alliance. Because that’s on the table if you want it.”
She stared at him for a long moment. She’d already said no in the interview at Verdant. She’d already decided on this path. There was no reason not to tell him.
“I want to open my own marketing firm. In Wishful.”
“Tell me about it.”