But she didn't say a word. The slap notwithstanding, she'd learn to control her temper.
She turned slightly to face his desk, and he realized that she was looking at the photo of Teiko and Elijah. Then she turned back to him, her eyes flicking down to his wedding ring before she met his eyes, and in that moment, a feeling like shame crashed over him.
He pushed it back. He didn't have a goddamn thing to be ashamed of.
For a moment, she simply studied him. Then she shifted her attention to Elena. "You have some place to stay?"
The younger woman rolled her eyes. "No, Mom. I've been here a week sleeping under bridges. Yes, of course I have a place. I'm watching a friend's apartment while he's doing summer studies at Cambridge."
Eva nodded, the gesture brisk and efficient. "Good. Marianne booked me a room at the Driskill. I'm going to go check in, and I'll text you my room number. You be there at nine o'clock tomorrow and we'll go have breakfast." She shot her daughter the kind of stern look that Tyree had seen generals use to quell the troops. "Do not be late."
"No, ma'am."
She nodded again, this time in satisfaction. Then, after shooting Tyree a look so cold it about froze his testicles, she turned and walked out of his office, her movements stiff, as if she was holding a storm inside of her.
That he understood. Because he damn sure was, too. And before he had the chance to either tamp it down or let it go, Elena was on her feet, her words and temper flying. Apparently that was a trait she'd inherited from both her parents.
"What the hell?" she bellowed. "I mean, seriously? What the ridiculous stupid hell do you think you're doing?"
He heard the light tap on the doorframe, then turned to see Brent. "Everything okay in here?" His eyes cut to Elena. "I heard shouting."
"We're fine," Tyree said, the words coming out sharp despite his best efforts to chill the fuck out.
Brent's attention shifted to Elena. "It's all good?"
She nodded. "It's fine. Thanks for checking."
Brent nodded slowly, and Tyree could practically see the questions and calculations zipping across his face. "I'm the one who sent Ms. Anderson back," he said. "Sorry if that was a bad call, but she said she was a friend of the family and Elena's mother."
Tyree's glance cut between Brent and Elena. "You two know each other?"
"We met in the bar earlier," Brent said.
"Huh." Tyree turned to Elena, lifted a brow in question, just the same as he did when he wanted Elijah to spill all.
She rolled her eyes. "I have a place to stay here, but I'm fond of eating, and I'll burn through my savings pretty quick. So I was asking about a job."
"Here?" Tyree asked.
"Well, yeah. But I didn't want to ask you because I thought it would be weird."
He ran a hand over his shaved head and sighed. If nothing else, at least the raging fire of his temper had burned itself out. "We can talk about that later," he said to Elena. To Brent he said, "It's all good. And shut the door on your way out."
To Tyree's irritation, Brent glanced toward Elena, as if requesting confirmation of the order. Did Tyree look or sound that rabid?
But it didn't matter. Elena nodded, and Brent backed out. And Tyree realized that he really was tight and stiff. But damned if he didn't have a good reason.
He'd lost a daughter.
No. Eva had stolen his daughter from him.
He thought of all the moments he'd shared with Eli through the years. The kind of moments he'd never experience with Elena. First steps. First birthdays. First day at school.
He looked at her, planning to tell her that he was sorry he'd missed that. Sorry that her mother had kept those moments from both of them.
He didn't expect--though he probably should have--the glint of steel in her eyes as she lashed right back into him again. "Just what the hell is wrong with you? My mother spent the last twenty-three years thinking you were dead, and you go off on her as if she was playing games?"
The anger Tyree understood. But the words weren't making any sense.