Chapter Seven
Traffic was light, and Robyn's car seemed to steer itself toward Jefferson Sommers' condo of its own volition. Pulling into her customary parking space, she sat for several moments, wondering if she shouldn't just go on home and call her father from there. But the brick front of the newly remodeled town home looked too inviting, and felt too much like what she needed at the moment. She'd stepped onto the small porch and raised her arm to ring the bell when the door suddenly opened.
"How do you always do that?" She asked in amused exasperation of the dark-haired man who stood on the other side of the opening. Her father always seemed to know just the moment to open the door. It had become something of a game between them. She'd once simply stood at the door for several minutes before ringing the bell, waiting to see what would happen. She had once been firmly convinced that he stood staring out of the peephole waiting for her to move for the bell. But the timing didn't quite work out. She'd tested it. So she simply remained amused and mildly mystified by the entire thing.
"Hi honey." Jeff gave his usual greeting with a smile, refusing to divulge the parental secret. He simply turned on his heel, on hand working at loosening his tie and headed for the kitchen.
"You're just getting in." Robyn offered apologetically as she shut and locked the door. His suit jacket was tossed across the back of a chair, and he was still working the buttons of his white dress shirt. Six feet tall and of medium build, Jeff Sommers kept himself in excellent shape. He moved in a graceful and unobtrusive manner, having the uncanny ability at times to seem understated, unworthy of notice. It wasn't until her teenage years that Robyn realized that it was a learned behavior. If one was aware of what to look for one noticed that the quiet masculine grace housed surprising strength and coiled muscles that could strike so quickly and effectively as to leave an opponent confused as to whether he was dealing with man or machine. And though he appeared not to see things, Robyn knew that her father missed nothing. So she wasn't surprised when he countered her obvious statement with an observation of his own.
"You haven't been home yet." He spoke with his back to her as he retrieved two glasses from the dishwasher and poured two glasses of lemonade. That he had barely focused on her when she'd entered his home was immaterial. Something in her demeanor had given her away.
"No I haven't," she admitted while settling at the small dinette. "Thought I'd come by and have dinner with my dad."
He turned and glanced briefly in her direction. The look was quick, but she knew he'd been accessing her, searching for clues as to whether or not some trouble had brought her to his door that evening. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Does this mean that you'll be doing the cooking?"
Sighing with exaggerated longsuffering she stood and took one of the glasses from his hand. A sip verified that it was as good as ever. Her father made the best lemonade in the country, in her opinion. He even squeezed the lemons himself. Another sip and she settled the glass on the counter for later consumption.
"I guess I could manage something with these meager offerings," she teased while trying to hide her surprise at his recently restocked refrigerator. Her dad might make great fresh squeezed lemonade, but he considered grocery stores of every variety as evil dens designed for the sole purpose of frustrating him. She normally went for him once a week. "What happened? Did someone hold you at gun point and make you go shopping?"
Jeff's face went placidly blank as he sipped his lemonade. Robyn's mouth opened in shock. She blindly settled the items she had been removing from the refrigerator onto the counter and turned to fully face him. Her father was hiding something!
Her smile grew as he turned away, obviously avoiding her searching look.
"I should get changed out of these things while you cook," he said, and made hastily for the door.
Robyn let him go, smiling thoughtfully. That reaction was totally unlike her usual calm, dry witted father. Whatever the mysterious circumstances surrounding the groceries, she was going to have to work to get it out of him. Maybe over desert.
As she chopped vegetables and went about her tasks, the events of the day filtered through her mind. She knew why she'd felt the need to be here, at her father's place. It was because in a way it was reassurance that situations like Sam Wright's could work out. Her mother had not been jailed as Bethany's had, but she had been just as gone from her life. And now, looking back through adult eyes, she saw what she hadn't seen as a child. That her father had been just as alone and just as wounded as Sam.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Jeff reentered the kitchen as his daughter was completing salad preparations. Her hands moved deftly as she carefully arranged layers of greens and vegetables. Though her motions were smooth and practiced, her expression was far away. He had no doubt that she had something on her mind.
She snapped out of it and smiled over her shoulder at him. "You have real parmesan cheese. Color me impressed."
"What color is that exactly?" Jeff murmured dryly. Then, not allowing time for a response he continued, hoping that the change of subject had been as deft as he hoped. "How did the meeting go with the new client?"
Robyn's entire expression changed. "Not well. In fact horribly wouldn't be overstating the facts."
Jeff stilled. "What happened?" The tenseness that had suddenly appeared on his daughter's face worried him. Robyn had always been so level headed and in command of herself. He'd never doubted her ability to handle any of the situations she might face with the clients she handled.
He helped her settle the plates and food on the table while she talked. They were well into the meal by the time she finished her story. He read between the lines to glean the things she hadn't said. Namely that she had more than a passing interest in this Sam Wright and his daughter. He would even venture to say that she was attracted to the man.
"So what do you want to do?" he asked her.
"What is there to do?" she returned. "We didn't get the account. We'll have to refund their money. I'll speak with Agnes."
Jeff ate quietly for several moments. "How are things with you and Steve?"
She shrugged, lifting one shoulder. "Same as always. He is in Alaska for a week. Business. What does that have to do with anything?"
"A convenient relationship," Jeff observed.
Robyn looked sharply at him. He knew that would get her mind going. "What do you mean by that?"
Jeff copied her one-shouldered shrug. Steve and Robyn shared a passionless but stable relationship for the past year. He liked Steve, but thought it was time that the relationship chose a direction as that of friends only or something more. He suspected that subconsciously Robyn knew the direction it should go but simply hadn't looked at it clearly. It didn't feel right to push. Maybe a gentle nudge would be enough. Robyn was pretty bright. Usually.
"I mean that sometimes you get comfortable with certain situations. Its familiar. Changing things can be a little frightening. But you can't make people change if they don't want to. Even if certain situations bring to light that a change will be good for them."
"Who exactly are we talking about here, Dad?" Robyn's tone was affectionate, but her expression showed that she more than got the point.
"Sam Wright, of course." Jeff winked at her.
Before she could respond, the phone rang. Robyn was close enough to see the caller ID display. "It's the answering service," she told him, grabbing the handset and handing it to him. The service only called if a client said that it was an emergency.
Jeff spoke briefly with the woman on the other end of the line before handing the phone to Robyn. "Looks like the one that got away wants to come back."