The Wedding March. Tara Randel

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      Cassie leaned into her sister. “Laying it on a bit thick, sis?”

      Lauren narrowed her eyes. “I meant every word.”

      “Really? The part about Dad—”

      Lauren cleared her throat.

      “—excuse me, Father, raising us? Please, he was never home and then after the split, he couldn’t get away from Mom and us fast enough.”

      “That’s not how I remember it.” Lauren straightened her shoulders and looked away from Cassie.

      “Oh, really? Did he make it to your first soccer game?”

      “No.”

      “Your high school graduation?”

      “No.”

      “College?”

      Silence.

      “The day you were honored at work as the first woman in your firm to receive the outstanding employee award?”

      Lauren pressed her lips together.

      “Yeah. Me, neither. Not my musical recitals or band performances.”

      Her sister glared at her. “Just because he missed a few milestones doesn’t make him a bad father. He’s here now.”

      A few? Cassie had a list. “Yes, but for how long?”

      “Just because you were stubborn and didn’t make contact with him after your first album doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

      “Oh, he cares. As long as it benefits him.”

      Cassie hadn’t heard from her father for years until her first album became popular. He called, texted, enlisted Lauren to try to make Cassie return his attempts to reach her. Why, when he didn’t have time for her before she gained popularity, would she reconnect with him now? Her loyalty remained with the mother who’d raised Cassie and her sister after he left, working two jobs and keeping a loving, stable home for her daughters.

      “Let’s not argue,” Lauren said, reaching out to take her hand. “Not today.”

      With a sigh, Cassie took her sister’s hand in hers. She loved Lauren dearly. Just because her sister was blinded by their father’s charm didn’t mean Cassie wanted them to fight. “I agree.” She might not want to be here, but was glad for some bonding time with Lauren while she was in Cypress Pointe.

      The main dish of roasted chicken, grilled vegetables and risotto was superb, but after a few bites, and the nausea that followed, Cassie picked at her food. Her stomach was twisted in a perpetual knot lately, making it hard to keep anything down. If she didn’t get over this writer’s block soon, she’d be physically sick as well as out of a career.

      The guest sitting next to her left his seat and within seconds her father took his place. She tried not to stiffen, but too many years of bad blood couldn’t be denied.

      “Nice reception, Dad.”

      A shadow passed over her father’s eyes. “Thank you. I’m glad you could make it, Cassandra.”

      “Why can’t you call me Cassie like everyone else?”

      “It’s your given name.”

      She stretched her neck back and forth, working out the tension.

      An awkward moment passed.

      “How is work on the new album going?” he asked.

      “We’re in the early stages so I’ve mostly been thinking about the project.”

      She spoke the truth. Coming up with songs was all she thought about.

      “You should make significant changes this time. The sound on your last album wasn’t exactly you.”

      She met his gaze, a forest green, as similarly striking as her own. “I’m aware, so yes, I’m going to make changes.”

      He nodded, pleased his sage words brought some clarity to her decision-making. Even when she was a kid he was always critical, whether it was her piano form or music style.

      “Perhaps I can have a small musical part on your next release. I have been known to play the piano quite well.”

      She blinked. “Come again?”

      “It would be fun. Father and daughter making music together. Remember when you were young and I taught you to play the keyboard? It can be that way again.”

      Fun? Cassie shivered as a memory unfolded in her mind. She was ten, waiting for one of her father’s infrequent trips home.

      “Daddy. You’re home. I did it! I wrote a song.”

      Robert dropped his suitcase as Cassie grabbed his hand, dragging him to the piano.

      “I did it, just like you said.”

      “Can’t this wait, Cassandra?” Impatience tinged his tone. “I just walked in the door.”

      “Please. Just listen.”

      He sighed. “Very well.”

      Cassie jumped on the piano stool, made room for him beside her and began to play, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sang about flowers and puppies and summertime. When the song came to an end, she waited for his critique, her heart pounding. “Well?”

      “Keep at it, sweetheart. One day you’ll get better.”

      Then he rose from the bench and walked away.

      Was he serious? She searched his expression but he seemed sincere. Like years of estrangement didn’t matter and they could become buddies overnight?

      “To be honest, I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

      “Let me know. I’m always willing to share my talent with those who need it.”

      Those who need it? How about to get his name in the limelight? That sounded more plausible.

      She couldn’t continue this conversation. Taking her napkin from her lap, she folded it and set it beside her plate. “Please excuse me. I have to go...somewhere.”

      Robert rose and pulled back her chair. “Of course. Save a dance for me.”

      With a nod she took hold of her beaded clutch bag and skirted the table, not sure which direction to head. The string quartet moved off the stage to pack up while another band set up for the reception entertainment. Too bad. She’d enjoyed the chamber music.

      Work that sound into a song.

      She stopped short. Could it be? Her muse finally making an appearance? But just as quickly as the thought flickered through her mind, СКАЧАТЬ