Page 23 of Park Avenue Princess

Chapter 7

Lynne

“Are you kidding me right now, Dad? You have no fucking right to say that.”

“You watch your language with me, young lady!”

“Or what? You’ll ground me? News flash, I’m a grown woman and I can do as I damn well please.”

He continues to grumble as I hurry beneath the shade of nearby trees and away from others who don’t need to hear the one-sided conversation with my father. Although with as loud as he’s been, pretty sure some could hear him as well.

I had just exited City Hall after dropping off documents for a client when my phone buzzed. As soon as I saw it was my father, I wanted to ignore it, but knew the longer I put off dealing with him the longer the situation would taunt me. And no sooner had I swiped to answer when dear ‘ol Dad starts laying into me about not returning his calls or emails, and purposely avoiding him.

Really?!He’s the one who practically stopped all communication even as I continued to try. But after a while, I didn’t bother wasting my time and energy. Mom actually became the go-between, trying to appease us both, but I could tell it was wearing on her, so I gave up. In the end, I knew she’d take his side because she has to live with him every day.

Live your life for you, Lynnie, because at the end of the day, you have to live with yourself.

Apropos, Addison’s words flit through my mind and I realize even when I think I know the situation, I really don’t. I see it from one perspective and jump to conclusions, even as my mind tells me to analyze from other angles. Which I really do try to do. But when it comes to my parents’ relationship, I’ve been judgmental, and yeah, a bit self-centered. Because I was their only child andshould’vebeen the center of their world. Right?

Grow up, Lynne, and move one.

“Lynne, are you even listening to me?” My father demands.

“When you start speaking in a civil tone and stop berating me, I’ll listen. But if all you’re going to do is spew hypocritical bullshit, then no.”

“What has gotten into you? Where is your respect?”

“Respect?” I practically screech. “Are you serious? I could ask the same of you. Did you ever have any respect for me, dad? Was there ever a hint of pride for what I’d achieved?”

And I just can’t let it go.

“Are we back to this? I expected only the best from you, given you’re a DuVall,” he says with finality, as if that explains it all. I guess in his mind, it does.

This conversation is gettingwayoff track.

“Moving on,” I mutter. “I haven’t had a chance to read over the emails, so can you give me the condensed version of what’s going on and why you’re contacting me?”

“I need your help.” His voice is even with no hint of annoyance, embarrassment, or desperation. He states it as if it’s a given that I’ll provide what he needs. His expectancy makes me want to scream. But I contain that volatility and ask him to go on.

“I’d rather not do this over the phone. Come to my office and we’ll talk.”

I take a deep breath and count to three. “Did you ever stop to think that I may actually have a schedule to my day and I can’t just drop everything at your demand? I have clients and meetings and deadlines. Just like a grown, mature working woman.”

I hear his long exhalation. “Stop being so dramatic. You’re a consultant which means your time is yours. So if your father needs you for business, you’re schedule is flexible enough to accommodate.”

“Wow,” I manage to blurt out while trying to choke back a laugh. “You really are something. So goddamned expectant. How ‘bout this,” I continue, talking right over more of his bluster. “I have time at four this afternoon, at which time I will arrive at your office and give you thirty minutes. If that. So plan to be economical with whatever it is you need to tell me, and I’ll decide if I’m able and willing. Good bye, Dad.”

I end the call, cutting off more harsh words of reprimand. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back and take a deep, hopefully cleansing breath. I then straighten and exhale for several seconds, imagining myself releasing the negative energy surrounding that conversation and my relationship with my father.

Does he deserve my help? Do I even bother with this?

He’s your father, of course he loves you. A memory of my mother’s words suddenly pops into my head.He’s sacrificed for us, done more than you’ll ever understand.

I wish Icouldunderstand.

Knowing I need to be prepared—because knowledge is power—I decide to head back into City Hall where I can log into a secure Wi-Fi and read the emails from Dad and Dennis. I could have gone to his office right now, as I don’t have anything pressing for a few hours, but I’m not going to jump when he barks. He needs to learn more respect formyschedule.

Slipping my phone into my bag, I leisurely stroll back, wishing I could play hooky and leave early for my weekend trip. The weather is gorgeous and my attitude needs a serious adjustment. Although I’m sure it won’t improve after the meeting with my father. If anything, it’ll probably worsen, so I’ll have to channel all the patience I possess to keep a leash on my emotions and treat this as business. Strictly business.

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