A Rare Chance by Carla Neggers Page B

have reason to suspect he’s planning something stupid, don’t you? Does it have something to do with Joshua’s attempted kidnapping? Is he in danger from Darrow? Do Joshua and Titus—”
    â€œWhoa. Don’t get ahead of yourself. If I had anything concrete, I’d act on it. You hear things in my profession. Most of it turns out to be garbage.” He moved back from her, and she sensed he was trying to get more than physical distance between them. “If you hear anything or come up with any ideas, give me a call.”
    â€œOh, sure. And I’m sure you’ll return the favor.”
    â€œGabby—”
    â€œI know how this game works.”
    He sighed. “That’s just the thing. You don’t.” He started for the stairs, probably just as irritated as she was, except he was better at not showing it. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”
    â€œMaybe I should just look over my shoulder and see if you’re there.”
    The gleam came back to his sea-blue eyes. He took two long steps back to her and touched one finger to her mouth. “Maybe I will be.”
    Â 
    After Cam Yeager had gone, after she’d washed her face and pulled herself together, Gabriella returned to the greenhouse with a sandwich and coffee for her father. He decided it was warm enough to eat outside. Using his cane, moving stiffly and painfully, he walked out to the deck. Gabriella felt the tug of conflicting emotions. He had his own problems. He didn’t need to know about Cam Yeager, Pete Darrow, attempted kidnappings, Lizzie and Joshua. She didn’t need to tell him.
    She didn’t want to need to tell him.
    â€œScag, I—”
    He held up a hand, stopping her. “Those two suits you work for don’t know I’m in town. Don’t worry, kid. I’m not going to do anything that’ll embarrass you. Hell, I’m so lame I can’t even do anything that’ll embarrass me. ”
    â€œYou’re my father. I haven’t forgotten.”
    He snorted. “Hell, how could you? Is that what you’ve been so worried about? Look, you have to live your own life, even if what you like to do gives me the sweats. Turning shoe factories into housing for the elderly. Christ. Imagine ending up watching ‘Wheel of Fortune’ in the same damned place you worked the three-to-eleven shift your whole life.”
    â€œWe’ve never done a shoe factory, Scag.”
    â€œGive yourselves some time.”
    â€œThe old buildings we renovate have tremendous architectural and structural integrity. Their historical significance alone makes them worth rehabilitating when feasible. When they’re converted for housing, the exterior might be preserved, but the interior changes dramatically. You should see some of the apartments we’ve done. They’re beautiful, with far more character than anything anyone could afford to build from scratch for the same money. There’s an old coffin factory out in central Massachusetts—”
    â€œThere you go. That’s a comfort, some old bastard putting his feet up in a coffin factory.”
    Gabriella sighed. It was just like the old days. They’d argue everything, even when they agreed. “You’re impossible. You think we should just tear down all these old buildings and put up new ones?”
    He dropped into a cushioned teak chair, the sunlight making him seem paler than he had in the greenhouse. “I think we should treat old people with a hell of a lot more respect than we do. Just because they might have slowed down a bit doesn’t mean they’ve turned into goddamned morons.”
    They?
    But Gabriella kept her mouth shut. Her father wasn’t a moron, but he had slowed down, even if he hadn’t yet admitted it to her.
    â€œI could have done this to my leg fifty years ago,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.
    She grinned at him. “I’ll bet