Page 51 of Executive Decision

“You could come to mine.” I hoped she didn’t read that as too presumptive.

“Ah… the press could find out. I don’t need this to come up. I don’t want to cause you trouble.”

“It’s no trouble, Daphne.” I lied, curling the phone cord around my fingers.

“Well, I don’t want to be the one who gets you embroiled in a scandal neither of us can afford right now.”

“Could I just stop in?” I asked.

“I don’t want to involve Mum. I’m not sure this is worth driving to Michigan for, but we could meet there. I promise you… it’s strategy. You don’t have to stay but maybe that works?” Before I could even answer, she said. “That’s stupid. Don’t even?—”

I cut her off. “I have no plans this weekend. I’m skipping a tennis competition. Mom wanted us all to enter. If I’m not around, she cannot guilt me.”

“It would definitely be easier to duck the press,” Daphne agreed.

“Even my Chief of Staff won’t complain,” I said. “It would be good to speak without any interlopers, Daph. I think I have something important to say and need space to say it.”

“You’re welcome to stay,” Daphne said. “Again, no ulterior motives. But if you’re travelling all that way?—”

“I’ll think about it,” I was unsure about throwing myself into a boiling pot with a newly available Daphne Delphine.

* * *

Daphne

“I’d like to speak with you without any interlopers, Daph.”

Cal’s words hung in my head. I’d invited him to our lake house—against my better judgment.

It was nine before Cal’s car pulled into the circle drive outside the family farm’s main house. The Delphines owned this place for years—having bought it as a wedding present for my great-grandfather. It contained miles of fruit trees, bushes, and a vineyard unmatched in Western Michigan. In short, it was a piece of heaven. Cal knew it well, as my father hosted leadership meetings here several times a year.

I held the door for Cal, an overnight bag over his shoulder. Two men met my gaze, leaning against a black SUV that followed his sportscar up the drive.

Cal chuckled. “They don’t bite, and they don’t talk.”

“Are they going to need a room?” I stared at his security entourage.

“Nah,” Cal said. “It’s taken care of. Look, I could sleep in the pool house if that’s better. But driving back?—”

“I made up a guest room for you. It’s silly for you to drive back.”

I stood awkwardly in the foyer, words failed me. I sensed Cal loathed me for choosing Chandler. It colored every meeting thereafter. He nervously ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. He waited for me to speak, while standing with his hands in his jeans pockets.

“Have you eaten?”

“I am famished,” Cal said. “But I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s okay. I made a chicken bake for dinner. If you don’t mind leftovers?—”

“That’s great. Thanks,” Cal said. “Should I run this upstairs?—”

“I’ll put the food in the oven,” I said. “And you can run your bag to whichever room you want.”

“Thanks.”

Cal disappeared while I put the casserole dish in the oven and poured wine. I needed something to give me the courage.

“You don’t owe me any wine, Daph,” Cal said.

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