Her father sat upright. “What’s there to talk about? Other than your entertaining that Hebert kid again.” His expression was no longer unreadable, except now Elisa very much didn’t like the message it conveyed.
“He’s not a kid, Dad.” She swallowed back her next words, which were to point out that neither was she. That point shouldn’t have to be made, though.
Even if she still felt like one.
Dad leaned forward, bracing his arms on the wooden table. The large desktop calendar page crinkled under his arms. “You know what I mean. I thought that stage in your life was over.”
So did she. And judging by how strange Noah acted today, maybe it was.
“We’re not starting anything back up. Like I said, we’re working on a project and were grabbing a pizza after.” The words felt sticky in her throat, and her father’s stare boring into her—clearly searching for any half-truths—made them even harder to release.
“You know how we feel about the Heberts. They’re thieves.”
She let out a huff. “I know, trust me.”
“Are you getting smart?” Her dad quirked a brow. “Maybe you’re an adult, but you’re not speaking like one.”
“Sorry.” Ugh, she was already caving. She straightened her shoulders. She could do this. For Delia, for herself. Maybe even for Noah. “With all respect, Noah isn’t a villain. This feud had merit back in the day, but it feels pointless now. Things are the way they are.”
“So we should stop fighting for justice?” Dad reared his head back to stare down his angular nose. “Just let things be, however unfair and illegal?”
She scratched her leg. “Well, no. But the inn is built. Whatever feud was going on over the rights to that property doesn’t matter now.”
“We could fix it if we buy it. Get the land back in the Bergeron name as it should have been from the beginning of this town—and reap those benefits.” He waved his hand around his office, with its worn carpet and tired furniture. “You think this is fair? You think it was fair for you to grow up the way you did?”
Elisa frowned. “Dad, we were hardly poor.”
“Well, we sure weren’t rich.” He shook his head. “Not like them.”
Who cared? None of that was the point. “We got by fine. I never wanted for anything.”
“Your mother sure did.”
“What?” Elisa’s gaze snapped to meet his. “What do you mean?”
“I know you two had all these expensive plans together—cooking abroad, culinary school, opening a restaurant.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “She clearly wanted more.”
“Dad, that’s crazy. Mom washappywith our life.” Sudden tears pressed the back of her eyelids. “We were having fun together. Making her southern teacakes and dreaming of serving them in our own restaurant one day. But she didn’t care about not ever having those things.”
“Well, maybe I wanted to give them to her.” Dad’s eyes filled with uncharacteristic emotion, and he turned back to his laptop. “I don’t have anything else to say about Noah or any other Hebert.”
Not fair. If he got to talk about Mom, she could talk about what she wanted to.Just stay calm. She clenched her hands into fists to control her surging emotions, digging her nails into her palms until the burn of tears vanished from her throat.
Now or never.
She slowly relaxed her fingers. “I’m going to be working with Noah until we finish this project, and I’m letting you know that as a courtesy.”
There. That wasn’t so bad.
Except her father wasn’t responding, only staring.
She shifted in her seat.
He continued to stare.
But she couldn’t be the one to break the stony silence first. Couldn’t show a drop of emotion, or he’d call her out. So she looked past him, counting the books on the shelf as she waited. Four. Five. Six.
The silence stretched.
