Полная версия
The Hopechest Bride
Emily backed up another few paces, then turned around, smacking straight into Joe Colton. “Um, hi, Dad. Fancy meeting you here.”
“Emily,” Joe said, looking at her intently. “You wouldn’t be hiding from Dr. Wilkes, would you?”
“Who? Me?” Emily bent her head, tugged at the sides of her hair with both hands, so that it fell forward over her face. “No. Of course not. I—I was just heading for the kitchen to tell Inez how much Sophie liked the peanut butter cookies Inez had me take over to her.”
“Uh-huh,” Joe said, putting his large hand around Emily’s elbow and heading toward his study. “Come on, Em, we’re going to talk.”
Emily bit her bottom lip so that she didn’t have a momentary throwback to her childhood and whine, “Must we?” and allowed her father to lead her to a leather chair before he went around the desk and sat in his large chair.
This wasn’t good. Nice talks took place in the living room, or if in the study, they would both comfortably sit on the large burgundy leather couch. But Joe Colton sitting behind his desk meant they weren’t going to talk. They were going to discuss.
Joe was the sort of man who would never raise a hand to any of his children, to anyone. But the man could discuss a person straight into wanting to dig a hole and then pull it in after her. He just had a way of making you feel so sorry for anything you did wrong, so embarrassed, so upset that you’d disappointed him, that you’d do anything to never have to disappoint him again.
“How are you, Emily?” Joe said once they were both settled, his gaze loving and yet even more penetrating than Dr. Wilkes’s professional gaze by at least one hundredfold. “Truly.”
“Tr-truly?” Emily stammered, her mouth dry, her lips stiff. “Fine. I’m fine. Honest, Dad.”
Joe sat forward, rested his elbows on the top of the desk, his gaze never leaving her face. “Really. So you’ve been to town, shopping? Gone to see a movie with friends? Even talked to any of your friends? To Liza?”
Emily turned her head away, bit the inside of her cheek. “Liza’s busy in Saratoga, Dad, with Nick and the baby. We’ve talked, and we e-mail each other, but—”
“Liza tells me you haven’t answered any of her e-mails, and that each time she phones you’re not available. Liza’s a continent away, Emily, and worried sick about you. Don’t do this to her.”
Emily mentally hefted a shovel and began digging that hole she wanted to climb into. “I’m sorry, Dad. It’s just—it’s just that I’m not really good company right now. Liza would be on a plane in ten seconds, and that’s not fair, either. I’ll write to her this afternoon. I promise.”
“Uh-huh.”
Okay, the hole was about to get deeper. Joe’s last “Uh-huh” warned Emily of that. “There’s something else?” she asked, trying not to wince.
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