The Other Woman

That voice came to her even now, every once in a while, undermining her confidence. She’d heard a bit more of it than usual since she’d decided to take the risk of starting her own business. But that was between her and Luanna. Isaac wasn’t part of it. Or in any case, he didn’t have to be.

“I don’t want you hating Dad because of me.”

“I don’t hate him because of you. He’s earned my derision.”

Liz couldn’t believe it wasn’t because of her. When they were growing up, it had been Isaac who’d tried to protect her. She knew a lot of what he felt had to do with how she’d been treated. “It’s in the past.”

“He treats you like shit for years and years, and then one day he shows up out of the blue, and you’re ready to welcome him with open arms?”

It’s in the past was easy to say, but not so easy to act upon. She was nervous, frightened, hopeful—and those were just the emotions she could identify. “I guess I’m willing to give him an audience, and see what he has to say.”

“If you think he’s come to make you an apology, Liz, I wouldn’t get my hopes up. He won’t admit he did anything wrong. I’ve tried talking to him about it before. He says you and Luanna didn’t get along. As if the problem could be summed up so simply. As if he had no responsibility in the matter.”

“Maybe I wasn’t as good a girl as I thought.”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “No. I was there, too. You were sweet and innocent and…It wasn’t fair.”

But Liz must have done something to make Luanna target her. Isaac was treated with a mild sort of neglect, but he was never berated. “Okay, say our stepmother was completely to blame and our father let me down—”

“Which is true.”

“I’m thirty-two years old.” She slipped into the desk in front of him. “I can’t hang onto the resentment forever. I have to let go.”

“Can you?”

That was the big question. Liz wasn’t sure. She hadn’t expected to be faced with this decision, not right now and not after so long. Her father hadn’t even cared enough to stay in contact with them. So why was he here?

“What if he’s willing to be a better grandfather than he was a dad?” she asked instead of answering Isaac’s question. “It might be good for Mica and Christopher to know him.”

Isaac’s long fingers tapped the top of his desk. “And what if Luanna takes him back after a week or two, and things revert to the way they were? How will you feel then?”

Cheated. Betrayed. Like before.

She wasn’t up for it, she realized. Not when she had so much going on in her life.

She stood. “You’re right. It’s not a good time for me. Maybe in a couple years—”

The door opened and a male student sauntered in. Liz knew many more would arrive in a matter of minutes.

“Never mind,” she said. “You’ve got another class coming up. We’ll talk about it later.”

Isaac followed her to the door. “You can tell him to leave you alone if you want to, Liz. Remember that.”

“Right. I’ll remember,” she said.

“Who, Mr. Russell?” the student asked.

“No one you know,” he responded.

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Is someone stalking your sister?”

Liz noted the kid’s black hair, black pants, black T-shirt and black fingernail polish. A quick glance at the cover of his notebook revealed numerous drawings of skeletons, vampires and graveyards.

“Nothing quite so dramatic, Devon,” Isaac said with a chuckle. “This is still Dundee, remember?”

“How can I forget?” The boy slumped into a desk in the back row. “I’ll die if I don’t get back to Detroit soon. I’m tired of watching the grass grow.”

“There’s always homework.”

He slouched even lower. “Yeah, right.”

Isaac flashed Liz a smile as he held the door for her. “Call me after he’s caught up with you, okay?”

“How do you know he’s here to see me?” she asked as she stepped outside.

“Because he knows enough not to try and contact me,” he replied and waved as a sea of arriving students surrounded him.

“WHAT’S ACHOCOLATERIE?”

Carter paused from painting long enough to look down at the unshaven but well-dressed man. Liz’s father, who’d identified himself as Gordon Russell, had his arms crossed over a lightweight V-necked sweater and stood gazing out the front window. He’d appeared almost as soon as Carter had returned from the hardware store. Since then, he’d asked several questions about Liz—where she was, how he could reach her, where she lived.

Carter didn’t have any of that information. But he probably wouldn’t have shared it even if he did. His background occasionally made him too secretive, he knew, but he found it pretty strange that a father wouldn’t be more familiar with his own daughter.

“Evidently, it’s a chocolate shop,” he said, focusing on his work.

The man’s expensive Italian loafers made barely any sound as he wandered over and stood beside the ladder. “Why doesn’t she just call it that?”

Carter reloaded the paint on his roller. He remembered what Liz had said about the movie, and he liked the idea. But Russell’s condescending attitude made him undeserving of an explanation. “I guess she doesn’t want to.”

At the coolness of his response, Liz’s father propped his hands on his hips, splaying well-manicured fingers—one of which sported a large diamond. Either he had money or he liked to pretend he did. Carter was betting on the latter.

“Who did you say you are?” Russell asked.

“A friend of a friend,” Carter responded.

“So you know Keith?”

“Not really.”

“In a town this size?”

“I’m new.”

Russell had to be nearing sixty, but the years had been kind to him. If not for the crow’s feet at his eyes and the subtle lines around his mouth, he could easily pass for ten, maybe fifteen years younger. He certainly took care of himself. Judging by his muscular physique, he worked out often. And he went to the added trouble of coloring his hair. It stuck up a bit as if he hadn’t showered after rolling out of bed this morning, but it was completely brown, without any hint of gray.

“How well do you know Liz?” he asked.

“Not very well,” Carter admitted.