Jackie sat back in the comfort of the rich leather seats of her father’s BMW. Her father, now retired, had been a successful divorce lawyer for the rich and famous.
Once at the house, Jackie took over, the way she had after her mother died. She put on the kettle for tea. Cecil sat at the kitchen table.
“So what are your plans? A new job?”
Jackie avoided his keen gaze. “Nah. I’m tired of slaving away for other people and making peanuts.” She took out a carton of milk.
“Oh? I didn’t know you had an entrepreneurial spirit.”
She took down two mugs and faced him. “Lipton, Earl Gray or Vanilla Chai?”
“Early Gray. Answer my question.”
“I want to own something.” She put a tea bag in each mug.
“And what will you use for money?”
“Bank loan?” The kettle gave out a sharp whistle. Jackie turned off the burner and poured.
The guffaw from her father turned her stomach sour. Was this going to be more than an “I told you so” meeting? Was it going to involve groveling and feeling stupid, too?
“I shouldn’t have come here. This was a bad idea,” she mumbled, adding sugar and milk to the brewing beverage.
“No, no. It was a good idea. The best. You’ve come to the right place. I’ve been wondering when you were going to get your head out of your ass and realize you have the balls to run your own joint.”
“Really?” She brought her gaze up to meet his.
“You know I’m not into flattery. Never have been. But I’ve watched you take over restaurants that were losing money and turn them around. You know the business. You’re smart and you’re not afraid to work hard. You’ve got the makings of success.”
“I had no idea you even noticed.”
He stirred milk into his tea and took a sip. “I notice everything. Just keep my mouth shut until the time is right.”
“And the time is right now?”
“I think I have some of Dora Johnson’s oatmeal cookies somewhere.” Cecil stood up.
“I’ll get ‘em.” Jackie put her hand on her father’s shoulder, then poked around in the cabinets. She found a metal tin with colorful balloons on it and brought it out. “This it?”
“Yep. She makes the best cookies.”
“Are you dating her, dad?” Jackie put the tin on the table.
“Me, dating? Is that a joke?” He opened the tin.
“Seriously. Maybe you should be dating.”
“They broke the mold when they made your mother. A finer woman never took breath. I refuse to bother with anyone less. Does that answer your question?”
“Can’t find someone to put up with your shenanigans, eh?”
Cecil guffawed and pushed the tin toward his daughter. “You always could see right through me.”
