She broke off, shuddering as she realized she was mixing past and present. "I know how much you've given me, and I wanted to pay you back. Once I'd made partner…"
"It would have been a proper return on our investment," Susan concluded. She got slowly to her feet because every muscle in her body was tingling. "That is insulting, arrogant, and cruel."
"Aunt Susie—"
"Be quiet. Do you actually believe we expect payment for loving you? How dare you think such a thing?"
"But I meant—"
"I know what you meant." All but shaking with fury, she clutched her husband's shoulder. "You think we took you into our home, into our lives, because we felt pity for the poor orphaned child? Do you think it was charity—worse, the kind of charity that comes with strings and expectations? Oh, yes," she continued, fired up now. "The Templetons are known for their charitable works. I assume we fed you, clothed you, educated you because we wanted the community to witness our largesse. And we loved you, comforted you, admired you, disciplined you because we expected you to grow into a successful woman who would then pay us back for our time and effort with the importance of her position."
Rather than interrupt what he couldn't have said better himself, Thomas handed Kate a handkerchief so she could wipe her streaming eyes.
Susan leaned over the desk. Her voice was low, had remained low even in anger. "Yes, we pitied the little girl who had lost her parents so tragically, so brutally, so unfairly. Our hearts ached for the child who looked so lost and so brave. But I'll tell you something, Katherine Louise Powell, the minute you stepped through the door of Templeton House you became ours. Ours. You were my child then, and you still are. And the only things any of my children owe me or their father is love and respect. Don't you ever, ever throw my love in my face again."
She turned on her heel, sailed out of the room, and let the door click quietly behind her.
Thomas huffed out a long breath. His wife's tirades were few and far between, but they were brilliant. "Put your foot in it, didn't you, Katie girl?"
"Oh, Uncle Tommy." She could see the world she'd tried to piece back together shattered in her hands. "I don't know what to do."
"Start by coming over here." When she'd crawled into his lap and buried her face in his chest, he rocked her. "Never knew such a bright child could be so stupid."
"I'm screwing everything up. I don't know what to do. I just don't know how to fix it. What's wrong with me?"
"Plenty, I'd say, but nothing that can't be mended."
"She was so angry with me."
"Well, that can be mended too. You know one of your problems, Kate? You've focused on figures so long you think everything has to add up and be equal. It's just not true with people and feelings."
"I never wanted to bring either of you into this. To hurt you, remind you—" She broke off, shook her head fiercely. "I always wanted to be the best for you. The best in school, in sports. Everything."
"And we admired your competitive spirit, but not when it eats a hole in your gut."
Exhausted from tears, she laid her head against his shoulder. It was cowardice, she thought, that had eaten that hole in her gut. Now she had to face it all, what had been, what was, and what would come.
"I'm going to fix things, Uncle Tommy."
"Take my advice and give Susie a little time to cool off. She gets hard of hearing when her temper's on boil."
"Okay." Kate drew a deep breath and sat up. "Then I guess I'll start with Bittle."
His face broke into a huge grin. "Now that's my Kate."
In the parking lot of Bittle and Associates, Kate flipped down her rearview mirror to take one last critical look at her face. Margo had performed a little miracle. She'd dragged Kate upstairs and with cold compresses, eyedrops, lotions, and makeup had erased all traces of damage. Kate decided she no longer looked as though she had spent twenty minutes bawling like a scolded child. She looked efficient, composed, and determined.
That was perfect.
She told herself it didn't bother her that conversations stopped when she sailed into the first-floor lobby. She didn't mind the stares and murmurs, the strained smiles and curiosity-laced greetings. They were, in fact, an eye-opener.
The few people who greeted her warmly, who detoured to stop her on her march to the second floor and offer support, showed her that she'd made more friends at Bittle than she'd realized.
It took only one twist of the corridor to bring Kate face to face with the dragon. Newman raised a brow, gave Kate one brief, chilly stare. "Ms. Powell. May I help you?"
"I'm on my way to see Marty."
"Do you have an appointment?"