Page 42 of Hart of Hope
“I might be a teenager, but I’m not dead, Dad. But you have a longing look in your eyes. And sometimes I see you staring at Duke and Fallyn like you want what they have but don’t think you're worthy.”
Oh, man.I was flabbergasted that my daughter could read people so well at her age. I was a good reader of people, but it took practice in studying their ticks, tells, and facial expressions.
I laughed, albeit nervously. I hated to lie to my daughter. But if I told her the truth, she would get her hopes up, and I didn’t want to shatter them.
“Grace is beautiful. Any man would be lucky to have her. But that man is not me. I’m much older than her anyway.”
Fran rolled her eyes. “So there’s a seven-year difference. It’s not like you’re old enough to be her father.”
It was weird how the spotlight was on me instead of her and that boy.
“Fran, tell me about Ryan. You’ve been dating for one month. What else?”
She sighed. “Fine, if you don’t want to talk about your feelings for Grace, then please tell me she’s okay.”
“She’s fine, sweetie. I saw her at Duke’s gym on Monday. She did, however, get herself in hot water with the law. But nothing to worry about,” I said. “I’ll tell you more over lunch, but first I want to hear more about Ryan.”
Girls exited the dorm, and a car horn blared somewhere nearby.
“Fran,” a girl called as she jogged up. “Did Rye find you?” She flashed her long lashes and warm brown eyes my way. “Oh, hi, Mr. McCauley.”
“Nora, have you grown five inches since I last saw you?” I asked Fran’s best friend and dorm mate.
Nora Welby came from a long line of oil producers on her father’s side, and her mother sat on the board of her family’s computer-chip company.
She held the strap of her bag. “You sound like my dad. It’s good to see you. We’re all rooting for Fran to win that scholarship. Oh, and have you asked your dad yet, Fran, about Italy?”
My eyes bugged out as Fran shook her head. “He just got here and met Rye.”
Nora, giggly and sweet, said, “Oh, don’t worry, Mr. McCauley. Rye’s a good guy. We’ve already done our homework on him.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh. “Why would you do that?” I glanced at Fran.
“I am my father’s daughter,” Fran said with a smile. “I know how you are. If I didn’t look into him, you would. You probably will anyway.”
I chuckled, puffing out my chest.
“You taught her well,” Nora chimed in. “We have a friend, and she’s super-techy. She checked out his name, family, etcetera.”
“You mean she hacked into a database,” I said, fucking proud as shit of Fran.
Fran hooked her arm in mine. “We should go. Nora, I’ll catch you later.”
Nora bounced in the opposite direction toward the group of gals waiting for her. “See you tomorrow night at the banquet. Oh, and Mr. McCauley, my mom is dying to talk to you. Fran, my parents will need an answer about Italy soon.”
Fran led the way toward the restaurant. “Can I go to Italy for the summer? Nora and I have been taking Italian. Actually, she’s brushing up on hers, since her family speaks Italian. Please, Dad? It’s only for a month.”
It was difficult to say no to her. She was such a perfect kid—never acting out, always studying, a straight-A student—and didn’t complain or ask for much. She deserved to have fun for as long as possible. With her intent to graduate a year early, her carefree summers would be limited before she entered college.
I covered my hand over hers. “We’ll need to get you a passport.”
But her birth certificate was in my folder—the one that Sabine had.
She squealed. “So it’s a yes?”
I made a mental note to book a flight to Nashville after the banquet. I was getting that folder back if I had to hunt down Sabine myself.
I nodded. “As long as you promise to call me every day and listen to Nora’s parents.”
