Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 84000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“We’re going to be involved. That’s the entire point of this place.”
“I’m going to be involved,” I say, finishing my sentence. “Maybe we could set up a way for you to earn shares in the hotel, up to a maximum.”
“So we’d all be part owners?” She lets go of the plans she’s holding so fast, they roll up and slide off the table.
“Maybe,” I say.
“Worth, that would be amazing.”
“But I’d have to have fifty-one percent,” I say. “Because I’m not having you two join forces against me.”
She laughs. “Well, that’s inevitable no matter how the shareholding’s arranged.”
I regard her for a second. She’s smart, determined, fun. “I like you,” I say.
“Of course you like me. I’m your sister.”
“I don’t think the two always go together. Anyway, I never realized until now.”
“You thought you hated me?” She puts her hand on her hip and lifts her chin, like she might be trying to start a fight.
“No, I just didn’t think about our relationship like that before. You were young and needed me. I loved you, obviously. I just never realized I liked hanging out with you.”
She shakes her head and turns back to the plans. “Don’t tell Poppy you only just realized you liked her. Her therapy bill is big enough as it is.”
I laugh. “You’re right there. I promise not to tell if you don’t.”
Refurbishing this hotel will be good in a lot of ways. Financially, it makes sense. It creates something good out of a lot of years of pain. And it might just rebalance the relationship among me and my sisters, so instead of me just being their safety net, I get to be their brother—plain and simple.
Yes, I think I’ll enjoy having a family legacy on Ninth Street.
THIRTY-TWO
Sophia
He looks older than I remember him, even though it’s only been a few weeks since I last saw my dad. The revelation of his secrets has aged him, and the heart attack probably didn’t help. Or maybe I just see him differently now.
I’ve been putting off this day for as long as possible, but I know if I’m going to get through this, I need answers from Dad. I need to look him in the eye when I ask him my questions.
“Hey, Sophia,” he says, his arms open like he expects me to run into them. I wanted to meet him in the park he’d always take us to the day after he got home from a “work trip.” It’s twenty-five degrees and I’m wrapped up in my down coat, hat, and gloves. I can barely move I have so many clothes on.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, staying seated.
“You don’t want to go inside? We could go to that coffee shop on the corner?” His words come out in puffy clouds of breath and hang there before slowly dissolving into the air.
I stand, but don’t move toward him. There’s no point in niceties when I’m feeling anything but nice. “Nope. We can walk.” I push my gloved hands into my pockets.
We walk in silence for a while, toward the fenced-off playground.
“Remember when I used to bring you here?” he asks.
“Yeah. There was always a trip to the park after you’d been on one of your long work trips.”
A white ribbon of breath pushes out of him, like he’s being exorcised. But we stand in silence.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Sophia.” His tone is harder than I expected. I’m not sure what I expected, exactly. That he’d pretend everything was fine and we wouldn’t talk about his betrayal? Or that he’d beg my forgiveness?
Yes, the second one. I expected him to be contrite. Or that he’d feel some kind of shame. From his tone, it’s like I’m holding on to some unjustifiable grudge.
“Is there anything you want to say?”
“Not really,” he says.
I turn to him. “Really? I just found out you’ve been living a double life my entire existence and you have nothing to say?”
“Sophia,” he says exasperatedly, “you had a good upbringing. You never wanted for anything. It was adult business. I don’t know what you’re so upset about.”
“Oh, I don’t know, the fact that my father lied to me every day of my life? The fact that I can’t trust another living soul because of the decisions you made to lie and cheat on your family?”
“Your mother knew everything.”
“We didn’t.”
“You were children.”
“You don’t think we deserved an honest man for a father? One who modeled how to tell the truth? How to be a faithful husband? You don’t think this has anything to do with us?”
“You’re being oversimplistic about the entire thing. You weren’t an adult at the time, so you can’t understand why I made the decisions I made.”
“So explain it to me,” I say. “I’m here, standing in front of you as an adult, asking you why?”