The Usual Family Mayhem

Chapter Thirty

The closet barely had room for coats let alone a grown woman. I crouched between a distressed-leather jacket and what looked like a proper black raincoat. I didn’t own that type of coat because that’s what umbrellas were for, but I’d bought one for Gram. It had a green background with huge yellow and pink daisies all over it. I got a headache just looking at it, which was how I knew she had to have it.

Standing there regretting most of my life choices lately, including the choice to hide, I waited to hear the welcome chat I assumed happened between parents and their kids when they saw each other. Hugs, pats on the back, that sort of thing.

Harlan jumped right to complaining. “I’m happy you finally made time to see me.”

“I work, Dad.”

Seemed obvious but probably not the real reason Jackson had put his dad off. Harlan should have been smart enough to know when his kid was avoiding him, but maybe not.

“I’m here now and ready to talk. Despite your waffling, your meeting went well. At least it did according to the team.”

The team. Harlan’s team. I’d never met the team but questioned every person handpicked by Harlan.

“As predicted, you haven’t offered up details. That’s why I’d planned to sit in at the restaurant. It was for your benefit. To skip the step where you had to remember every word and relay it to me,”

Harlan said. “Why did you lead me to believe the financing people were no longer interested? They were very impressed. Praised your presentation and speaking skills.”

Jackson sighed and was pretty loud about it, too. “This isn’t about what they thought. This is about me. My goals.”

I peeked through the thin crack at the edge of the door. Not the best angle but I could see two figures, standing in the kitchen. Their posture looked anything but relaxed and comfortable. I knew how they felt because the hanger poking into my back didn’t feel great either.

“Jackson, you can’t waste this golden opportunity. People would steal and kill to have the spotlight you’re getting. The meetings might not be your favorite thing, but they’re a road to a better position. To power.”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

Good for Jackson. He wasn’t backing down. He was handling the situation like he might handle a difficult client. Clear voice. On his feet and ready for battle.

“Son, come on. Don’t let her visit derail you,”

Harlan said.

Oh . . . wait.

Every part of me clenched. The muscles across my upper back and shoulders tightened and strained to the point of cramping. I put a hand over my mouth because my breathing echoed and pinged in my head. So loud that I waited for Harlan to throw open the closet door and find me standing there.

“I know you . . .”

Harlan visibly weighed his words before starting again. “Listen. She’s a lovely girl. She’s from here. Constituents love that, but the compatibility ends there. She’s not going to help you get the life you want.”

“You want. Not me.”

The edge in Jackson’s voice grew more pronounced.

Where was a window ledge when you needed one? Hiding out there might have blocked the memory of Harlan calling me lovely in a tone that sounded anything but. Putting unnecessary pressure on his son. Dragging me into this politicking nightmare. The list of Harlan’s loving-father violations grew longer by the second.

This conversation could take a nasty turn but I couldn’t look or walk away. Literally. The small closet space didn’t allow for any maneuvering. Forfeiting all sense of self-preservation, I pressed my head tight against the door’s seam and waited for Harlan to say more shitty things disguised as compliments. Since I was stuck in there without an end in sight, I didn’t want to miss a syllable of the conversation.

“You were on board with the plan. The financial team put together a strategy. I lined up a series of informal get-togethers with some of the state’s more influential power brokers.”

Harlan didn’t come up for breath.

“All to ease you in before you have to make speeches and design a platform.”

Harlan’s smooth voice was aimed at convincing and maybe a little shaming. “It was a lot of work, and I was happy to do it, but then she came to town and—”

“Stop.”

Jackson’s voice shook with defiance.

“I understand. I enjoy a pretty woman, too, but you need the right pretty woman. One with gravitas. Speaking ability. The right hobbies. Poise. Elegance. Position. A woman who can charm for donations and act concerned and interested when necessary.”

“You make this perfect woman sound like a computer in a nice dress.”

Harlan blustered right over Jackson’s smart-ass comment. “I’m sure if you contacted Anna you could work out your relationship issues and get back on track. Her father being a judge would be a huge help to you.”

Anna. The one from the Christmas muffin incident. How could I forget. I tried, of course, to block her memory. To not to see her perfect blond prettiness and the way she hung on Jackson’s arm. Meeting her ruined last Christmas for me.

My general grumpiness heated up. I hadn’t reached full-on-hostility level yet, but hovered right on the edge. Anger slipped through my defenses, drowning out my curiosity.

“I’ve listened to you. Heard you out and thought about your proposal to help me in politics, but you’re not listening to me. You’re not hearing what I want. I’m a lawyer and a good one. The law firm is where I belong.”

Harlan laughed and sounded smug doing it. “You wouldn’t be the first lawyer turned politician. It’s a logical next step.”

“It isn’t for me.”

Jackson sounded done. Frustrated but still in control. “And let’s be absolutely clear. The relationship with Anna is over. Forever.”

I counted on Jackson’s even disposition. He worked under a lot of stress. We bickered back and forth but he never crossed the line or yelled or did anything scary. I joked that this was part of his boring side, but really, that consistency earned my trust from the time I was old enough to understand that many men operated under a very different set of personal rules.

“Are you really going to throw away all this progress, all this potential, because of a woman who doesn’t even live in this state?”

Harlan’s voice went in and out as he moved around the kitchen. “Again, she’s . . . sweet. But that’s not good enough for the life you can have.”

“We’re done talking about this.”

“You know I’m right. Kasey lacks her grandmother’s drive. Honestly, I’ve often wondered how someone as successful as Magnolia raised a granddaughter who is so unfocused.”

The conversation volleyed back and forth. Neither seemed happy and both referenced me. Forget listening and biding my time. I did not want to be at the center of this discussion. I didn’t want to be here at all. If I could slink out and slip away I would.

I put my hand against the door, ready to shove it open. Jackson’s stern tone stopped me.

“Enough.”

The word echoed through the condo. “I’m not going to listen to you berate Kasey. I feel—”

“I know exactly how you feel about her. You haven’t been nearly as successful at hiding it as you think. And that mess at Christmas? A complete embarrassment and a forewarning of what life would be like with her.”

Jackson made a strangled sound. “I’m a grown man. I’m not doing this with you.”

“I hear you.”

Like that, Harlan’s voice returned to normal. All the heat ran out of his tone. He spoke like they’d never disagreed. “I have a business dinner tonight, but we can meet for breakfast tomorrow. Let’s sit down and talk this through. No anger. No insults. No talk about Kasey. We’ll focus on you and your needs.”

“Can’t. I have a brief due.”

That sounded bogus. I couldn’t blame Jackson for putting off a future meeting with his dad, but he needed to up his excuse game.

“I know you’re angry and think I’m interfering, but you’re too close to this. You can’t see what’s happening. I really am doing what’s best for you.”

Correction, best for Harlan. Jackson had to see that. Right?

“We’ll find a time tomorrow.”

Harlan walked toward the door. His expensive dress shoes clicked against the floor. “I know you don’t want to hear this and saying it doesn’t bring me any satisfaction, but she is going to leave town again. She can’t be part of your future equation.”

I really disliked Harlan. In that moment I hated him because he was right. My life wasn’t here. Jackson wasn’t mine. All of the sparks between us amounted to a quick, confusing fling that could derail our long-term relationship and drag in Celia and Gram as collateral damage.

I slipped out of the closet when the front door closed. Instead of turning and going to Jackson, I headed for the entry. I’d wait to avoid a run-in with Harlan, but I needed to get out of the condo before the walls closed in.

“Kasey, don’t go.”

The pleading. That voice. None of this was Jackson’s fault.

“I need some air.”

Celia was right. Sometimes you needed a fresh breeze to restart your brain.

Jackson stood right behind me with his hand on the door. Heat radiated off him as his body brushed against mine. It would be so easy to lean back. To give in and pretend Harlan didn’t exist.

“Dad’s agenda is not my agenda.”

“He’s very strong-willed.”

My code for a jackass.

Jackson exhaled, sounding like he had a bit of frustration left in reserve. “Give me some credit. That conversation wasn’t about fatherly concern. He’s a bullshitter. He’s trying to sway me like he would do with a client.”

I turned to face Jackson. Big mistake. He stood so close. So huggable. Kissable. Touchable. I cleared my throat twice before I spit out a discernible word. “He’s also not totally wrong. Hanging out with me isn’t a great political move for you.”

“Even if I cared about politics that’s not true.”

Oh, Jackson. “I have an imprisoned killer for a father and a murdered mother.”

“That’s not your fault, and I’m not running for office.”

Okay, but . . . “I’m a law school dropout. A serial job loser.”

Listing my failures like that, being honest, twisted and knotted my insides to the point of breaking. My family history sucked. My ability to build a career and an adult life was nonexistent.

“You aren’t any more responsible for your father and what he did to your mother than I am for my dad and how he treated Mom.”

Jackson managed a half smile, clearly trying to inject a bit of lightness into a dark moment. “About law school. You hated it. Mags’s heart issue made you leave quicker than you otherwise might have, but you were right to get out. It wasn’t for you.”

He understood that I couldn’t stay in school while Gram was in the hospital. I never admitted that to anyone and adamantly denied it when Gram insisted I go back, but Jackson knew.

“Don’t act like your dad’s view doesn’t matter.”

It had to. How Gram and Celia thought about things mattered to me.

“I love him because he’s my dad, but I don’t like him very much.”

Jackson looked around the room, clearly trying to find an anchor or a lifeline and failing. “Age hasn’t softened him. He is his own biggest fan. He doesn’t apologize for pushing or his condescending advice. He’s the same jackass who made my mom’s final days a misery. Actually, most of her life but especially her final days.”

I remembered Jackson’s mom. She’d struck me as frail. A beautiful woman, almost doll-like, whose shoulders stooped a bit more each year. Now I knew the weight of Harlan’s disregard shoved her down and kept her there. “She deserved better.”

“So did you.”

Jackson trailed his fingers down my cheek. “Please don’t leave like this.”

It would have been so easy to give in. So simple to ignore the last fifteen minutes and go back to that couch, but I couldn’t. Thoughts and feelings crashed inside me. I didn’t know what my hazy confusion meant and needed a minute to pull the images apart and figure them out.

I didn’t want to hurt Jackson. I didn’t know if I had that kind of power where he was concerned, but he had that hold over me. I didn’t want to be hurt.

“Maybe we need a little space.”

I hated saying that, but I needed to.

He rolled his eyes. “We live almost four hundred miles apart. Honestly, I’m sick of all the space.”

His face, that pleading expression, wore me down, which was why I needed to back up and take a break. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I should have walked away without . . . no. I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him. It was sweet and too short but enough to keep a connection pulsing between us despite his father’s wishes.

“Tomorrow. I promise.”

I whispered the word against his lips and meant it. I had a lot to think about before we talked again but we would talk soon.

I tended to run from difficult and confusing emotions. Not this time.