Page 133 of Book and Ladder
I smile, grateful to have his praise, but certain it won’t last another hour. Not after he hears what I came to say.
“Have a good workout, Mom,” I say, squeezing her arm lightly.
She smiles up at me.
I walk through the foyer, my footfalls echoing off marble and tall ceilings. In his office, Dad sits behind the solid wooddesk, phone pressed to his ear, laptop open. The click-click of his pen punctuates the end of his call.
He looks up, smiles broadly and waves me in.
I almost falter at the sight of him welcoming me as if I’ve never disappointed him, as if who I am matters more than what I do.
I’m proud to be a firefighter, possibly prouder that I built a successful podcast celebrating my love of reading. It’s unfortunate that I can’t share the joy of those two accomplishments with the man sitting across the desk from me.
“Patrick,” he booms when he hangs up his call. “So good to see you here.”
“Thanks. I’ll get right to it.”
Dad sits back in his high-back leather office chair, his hands folded on the desktop in front of him.
“I need to tell you some things. I should’ve said them a lot sooner.”
His brow creases just the slightest, the way it does anytime he senses he’s losing control over the room.
“I’m not on board with the development.”
I allow the bomb to tick down and detonate.
My father opens his mouth to speak. I hold my hand up and say, “Let me finish.”
He nods, all signs of his previous elation erased from his expression.
“I respect you immensely,” I tell him, sincerely. “You’re an incredibly savvy and skilled businessman. You’ve built a business that makes a lot of money and helps others make money. You improve communities. And you love Mom and us. You’re a good man.”
His face softens slightly, but he’s still pulling shrapnel from my blast.
“But?” he asks.
“But I don’t believe you should have plowed that land.This community doesn’t need a Home Mart. I’m actually concerned that you may have started something that will bring long-term detriment to Waterford. I know you mean well. When you look at the development, you see progress, jobs, income, a way to sustain the infrastructure. And I’m not arguing those benefits. When I look at that property—brown and demolished where it had been green and open, I see the loss of what makes us special—simplicity, local-owned, a sanctuary from everything commercial and generic.”
My throat constricts and my stomach sours when I say the next sentence. “Daisy had to give up her business.” Her reality slams into me. “She lost everything.”
“This is about Daisy?”
“Only in part.”
“You always did have a soft spot where she was concerned.”
I nearly blurt that I’m madly in love with her—so in love that I’m sitting here, throwing away the only praise I remember ever receiving from my father for her. But I don’t want my dad to be the first person to hear about my feelings for Daisy. She deserves to hear my declaration, if I ever have the opportunity.
“I’m not saying a Home Mart won’t bring opportunities and jobs. I just think you could have placed it further outside town. And I definitely do not agree with overtaking Daisy’s property with your plans for condos.”
“Another location would have been impractical and inconvenient.”
“I’m not here to change your mind.” He’s used to changing mine—not this time.
“Why are you here, Patrick?”
“I needed you to know I’m not going to be a part of this project. I don’t know if I’ll ever be an active part of O’Connell Development. I love being a firefighter. It’s not a hobby.It’s my career. And I love reading and books. I’m not going to change who I am to fit your mold of what you wish I were.”
