“Leaving messages for me,” she jumped in.
“No. Trying to make sure your suite in Palm Springs was upgraded for the girls.”
She held her breath, instantly nauseous.
“Are you in Palm Springs?” he asked.
“No.”
“Would you like to tell me where in the hell you and my grandchildren are?” he asked, his tone hard as steel. “Because I paid for Palm Springs.”
She sighed, gripping the wooden railing with her free hand. She didn’t want to tell him a thing. She wanted to hand him a well-researched dossier with everything he’d need to convince the board to deny the refuge’s funding. That had been the plan. But now...
But now, she wasn’t so sure. She swallowed.
“Last we talked you were going to relax, to take a break. Going to Stonewall Crossing was never discussed. Ever.” Her father’s anger was palpable. “But your credit card indicates you’re staying there.”
He’d looked into her bank statements? “I am,” she agreed.
The silence dragged on, but Eden refused to buckle.
“You’ve had a hard couple of years, with work and your personal life. I’ve been extremely understanding. But my patience is running out.”
His patience? Her hand tightened on the banister. She would keep her cool, keep it together. “Site visits for every current and potential recipient is something I’ve done many times. I’m not sure I understand why this is upsetting you. Consider the visit a proactive move on my part.” But then, there were things she didn’t know. Was that why he was upset? Was he hiding something?
“You may be my daughter, but you’re also my employee. If this is a work-related trip, you’d need prior approval before travel. You’d need my approval. Something you would not get. What the hell are you up to?” he snapped.
“My job.” Spending hours poring over every application, every detail, that was under review each night. She knew her job and what needed to be done. She didn’t disappoint or let people down—no matter what he thought. “On all the applications, not just the refuge. But as I’m here, I want to make sure the board has the most up-to-date information.”
“Your job, huh?” He paused, his tone sharp when he asked. “This has nothing to do with your mother?”
Eden held her breath. What did he know? What was he keeping from her? Maybe she did want to know why this place was special to her mother. What the people here meant to her. Whatever it was, it upset her father.
“No answer?” Her father’s voice was clipped and hard. “Now you’re keeping secrets from me.”
“And you’re not?”
“Oh, I’ve got plenty. Because I don’t want the memories of your momma tarnished.”
Eden’s heart was thum
ping in her chest. What did that mean? Her mother would never have been unfaithful to her father. As long as they were married, she’d have honored the vows she made. “What are you saying?”
“Me? I’m not saying a damn thing, Eden. Not a thing.” His tone was brittle.
Yes, there were plenty of Clarks in the world. But her mother wasn’t one of them. Some people honored their vows. She stared out over the rough country, the greens and browns and bright blue sky so vivid it almost hurt her eyes. “Mom believed in this place. Part of my job—”
“A job I pay you to do. That pays for your nanny, your house and your health care. I know you’ve got some idea that I treat you differently, that I’m harder on you than the rest of my employees—”
“I’m your employee and I work hard for you, Mr. Monroe. I have a nanny because you insist I work ridiculous hours, because you give me the hard cases and the difficult people, and I make it work. I earn my paycheck, every hour of every day.” She paused, sucking in a deep breath. “Any implication that my paycheck is because I’m your daughter is resented and untrue. I do a damn good job for you, one you should be proud of.” She hated the hitch in her voice—hated revealing anything to him.
“Don’t come crying to me if you don’t like what you find. Your mom’s dead. You’re not getting any questions answered.” He paused. “I’d fire any other employee for doing what you’re doing, Eden.”
She paused, staring blindly ahead. “Are you saying you’ll fire me?”
He sighed. “Guess we’ll talk about it when you get back. Got another call,” he said, and then hung up.
She stared at the phone, hating the telltale sting of tears in her eyes. So much for finally proving herself to him. Apparently it didn’t matter that she was using her own time and money to be here. Or that she was still putting in a full day’s work. It didn’t matter. He was angry. Over something he wouldn’t talk about.