The Daughter Dilemma. Ann Evans

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      He scowled at her and she subsided.

      His daughter was fourteen and turning into a lovely young woman that any father would be proud of. But sometimes he wasn’t sure he and Tessa were connecting at all. After years of trying so hard, coming so far in their relationship…

      “She’s growing up, Nick.” Addy cut quietly into his thoughts, as though she could read them. Maybe she could. Addy had a way with people.

      Nick smiled at her. “I can accept that. But she doesn’t need to show everyone just where she’s growing. That dress was indecent.”

      “You’re such a prude.”

      “I’m her father. She’s too young. You weren’t allowed to wear anything that sexy to school dances.”

      Addy’s mouth quirked in derision. “How would you know? You’d already married Denise and left home by the time I was fourteen.”

      Nick couldn’t resist laughing. “Are you kidding? Between your escapades and Matt’s overachieving and Rafe getting into trouble all the time, my mailbox was full of letters from Mom and Pop, and I memorized almost every word. The night of your first Sadie Hawkins dance you wore a modest yellow dress with daisies along the neckline.”

      Addy straightened in surprise. “How do you know that?”

      “Because Pop kept asking Mom who Sadie Hawkins was, and she described the dress very vividly to me. Said it looked like melted butter on you.”

      Addy settled her chin on her hand. “It was pretty,” she said with a sigh. Then she gave Nick a sly sideways glance. “Too bad I didn’t wear it. I switched it for a midnight-blue slip dress with a plunging back. That was the night I let David McKay kiss me for the first time.”

      Nick thought she looked a little dreamy, maybe even sad, but he gave her a glance that said she was completely hopeless. “No wonder Mom and Pop spent so much time threatening to lock you in your room.”

      “So is that how you want to handle Tessa? Threaten her with punishment all the time? Make her quake with fear instead of having her respect? Is that the way to raise children?”

      “It worked for us.”

      “Did it?”

      He knew what she was getting at. The four D’Angelo offspring—Nicholas, Matt, Rafe and Adriana—had been raised by Samuel and Rose, people with strong values and a belief in exercising firm, loving control over their children. As parents, they had been tough, but devoted. Demanding, but fair.

      Nick had always known what was expected from them, where he stood. So had the easygoing Matt, who was now a skilled surgeon living in Chicago. And though she’d been in and out of mischief for most of her growing-up years, Addy had done all right, too.

      The real problem had been Rafe. The youngest son had been a black-eyed, black-tempered hell-raiser. As a teenager he’d always been at odds with their father and, after one particularly bitter fight, he’d run away from home.

      He hadn’t been back since.

      “I miss Rafe,” Addy said, jogging Nick out of the past.

      He made a noncommittal sound in his throat. She and Rafe had been close. He suspected Addy was still in touch—she received mysterious phone calls and the occasional postcard. She’d probably forgive him anything. But he and Rafe had never seen eye-to-eye and he was still resentful that his brother had not returned—even for a visit—during his father’s health crisis.

      Addy turned to give him a direct look. “Do you think he’ll ever come home?”

      Personally, Nick didn’t think so. His brother seemed content to ricochet around the world without a care for anyone. But he could hear the hope in Addy’s voice and a protective instinct rose up in him in spite of his belief that blunt truth always served a person better.

      “He’ll come home someday,” he said. “When he finds the right reason.”

      That seemed to satisfy her. With a thoughtful nod, she started sifting through the pile of paper on her desk. At least she no longer seemed interested in giving him a hard time about the way he managed Tessa.

      He began paging through the log book of upcoming tours.

      It looked grim. One no-show today. Only three flights scheduled for tomorrow unless someone made a last-minute booking. Enough to give Addy some flight time but not the usual tourist crush that would keep both choppers in the air full-time.

      A year ago Nick had added Angel Air to the family business, building the heliport only a mile from the lodge. He’d told himself that it wasn’t just that he’d missed flying. Helicopter tours were a natural fit for Lightning River Lodge’s well-heeled guests. More and more vacationers wanted to explore the less-familiar wilderness areas that hadn’t been overrun by tourists. But so far, this part of the business had yet to turn a real profit.

      The phone rang and Addy picked it up. A moment later his sister put the call on hold and motioned toward him.

      “It’s Mom,” she said. “And she sounds out of breath.”

      What now? Nick thought as he punched the button. Their mother was pretty self-sufficient. After their father’s stroke, she’d had to be. With Aunt Sof and Aunt Ren’s help, she kept the lodge running in tip-top shape. The front desk, the small restaurant, the fourteen rooms and two suites. If she’d been reduced to calling Nick, God knew what problem she’d run into that she couldn’t handle.

      Unless it’s Pop.

      He snatched up the phone. Rapid Italian chattered in his ear. She wasn’t speaking to him, but to Aunt Ren in the background. “Mom, what is it?” he cut in. “What’s the matter?”

      His mother shushed Aunt Ren. There was immediate silence. “Nick, can you come up? I need you. Ah, Madonn, I’m surrounded by crazy people here.”

      “It’s not Pop?”

      “No, no, no,” she reassured him quickly. “Although, if he doesn’t stop getting in the way, I may put him back in the hospital.”

      “I’m only trying to help,” he heard his father mumble in the distance. Since the stroke, Sam D’Angelo depended on a wheelchair to get around, but after years of therapy, his speech was almost normal again.

      “Running over my toe with your chair?” he heard his mother scold. “That’s your idea of helping?”

      “You have big feet,” his father replied.

      Another string of Italian. No phrase you’d find in a guide book. Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. Without even looking at Addy, he could tell she was grinning.

      “Mom…”

      His mother must have realized that Nick’s patience today was wearing thin. “The stove. It’s broken. How can I cook tonight for our guests?”

      That was what this was all about? “So call the repairman.”

      “You think I don’t know to do that? СКАЧАТЬ