Standing in the quiet foyer, she surveyed it as if she hadn’t been there in years instead of weeks. Since that confrontation with her father, she hadn’t stepped foot in the home that had been hers since birth. The only reason she did so now was because of a phone call from her mother, asking her to please come over so they could talk. The I miss you at the end had sealed Reagan’s fate. It was difficult to tell Henrietta Sinclair no on the best of terms. But when she tacked on the emotional warfare? Impossible.
The familiar scent of lemon and roses enveloped her, as comforting as a hug. Funny to think there’d been a time when she’d hated the scent of roses. But now? Now she missed it as much as she missed her family.
Especially now, when she didn’t have anyone.
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She had Harley, who was graciously letting her stay with her and Grant until her new apartment came available next week. She had Beth and Gracie, who had been so saddened when she’d told them a week ago about the breakup with Zeke. But had quickly assured her she was still family to them.
And of course, and most important, she had herself.
That night with Ezekiel had been a revelation of sorts. A revelation that though her past might have shaped the woman she’d become, she was not the sum of her mistakes. Just as she’d told Zeke, she didn’t need saving; she wasn’t some damsel in distress. And her dream of a girls’ home here in Royal wouldn’t crumble to dust just because her father held her inheritance hostage. Her dream hadn’t been birthed by either her father or Ezekiel, so neither one could—or would—be the death of it.
She loved him... God, did she love him. That love was rooted in friendship, admiration, respect and a desire that even now her soul-deep hurt hadn’t banished. But she valued who she was and what she brought to the table of their marriage more. That he couldn’t see how she possessed the strength to carry him just as he did her... She shook her head. Maybe it was good their relationship ended when it did. That lack of regard for her would’ve surely poisoned them long before he decided the expiration date on their arrangement had come due.
Inhaling a breath, she shoved away those thoughts and the pain they resonated through her body for the time being.
“Mom?” she called, walking toward the rear of the house and the smaller salon her mother usually occupied this time of day, working on
her numerous charitable events and committee responsibilities.
“In here, Reagan.”
That was not her mother. Shock ricocheted through her like a Ping-Pong ball, and she skidded to a stop on her heels, frozen. After several moments, she unglued her feet and reversed course toward the formal living room. She’d heard her father’s voice but seeing him standing there in the middle of the room pelted her with more icy shards of surprise.
“Dad,” she said, amazed her voice remained calm when inside she was the exact opposite. “What are you doing here? I was supposed to meet Mom for lunch.”
He cleared his throat and locked his hands behind his back. And oh, how she’d missed him. Reserved, domineering and often stern to the point of being implacable. But he was also protective, loving in his own way and willing to lay down his life for his family. They were all what defined Douglas Sinclair, and the distance between them had left a hollow, empty place in her heart.
“I apologize for the deception, but I asked her to arrange this...” he waved a hand between them “...meeting. Otherwise, I didn’t know if you would agree to come.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say she would’ve, but at the last moment, she swallowed the words. Because she might not have, given that it might’ve meant subjecting herself to another blistering lecture.
“Well, I’m here now,” she said, moving farther into the room. “What’s going on, Dad?”
Instead of answering, he reached inside his suit jacket and removed an envelope. He crossed the short distance separating them and handed it to her. She tore her gaze away from him and glanced down at the piece of mail.
“Please,” he insisted. “Open it.”
With a frown, she acquiesced. And minutes later, the paper trembled in her shaking hand. Unsure that she could’ve read the single sheet correctly, she scanned it again. But no, the terms remained the same. Her grandmother’s inheritance had been released to her.
He’d released it to her.
“Dad,” she breathed, stunned at the enormity of this. But then an ugly idea crept into her mind, and she lowered the paper to her side. “Is this because I left Zeke?” she demanded. “Because I don’t want to be ‘rewarded’ for that. It had nothing to do with—”
“No, Reagan,” Douglas interrupted her. “It has nothing to do with that. I’d decided to give you the inheritance a couple of weeks ago. It’s just taken me this long to get past my pride to speak to you.” He sighed, and once again, astonishment paralyzed her. Outward displays of emotion—sadness, pain, regret, which he usually kept so sternly in check—softened his eyes and turned his mouth down at the corners. Her heart thudded against her sternum. “The love a parent has for their child...” He shook his head. “It’s so hard to explain, but I want to try.”
He paced to the large fireplace and silently studied its dark depths before turning back to her. And though his familiar, serious expression was firmly in place once more, his voice shook with the feelings she’d spied only seconds ago.
“Being black in Texas was...rough for your mother and me. Especially in the time we came of age in. And infiltrating the business world carried its own set of hindrances and injustices. But for you, your brother and sister and mother, I would endure it all again. You all are worth every ugly name, every snub, every racist hurdle I had to climb or break through. Still, I swore to myself my children would never have to suffer that kind of pain, struggle and discrimination. I wanted better for you...because I love you so much.
“I guess you could call it an obsession of mine—making sure you were all right. Especially after the pregnancy when you were sixteen. I felt so...helpless. My baby girl was hurting, had been taken advantage of, and I felt like I’d failed in protecting you. And I know I didn’t handle the situation right. I don’t regret paying off that boy because he was no good for you, but I do regret that in the middle of my pain and powerlessness I made you feel like I didn’t love you anymore. That somehow you were less in my eyes. When in truth, I wanted to wrap you up and shield you more.”
He paused, then shifted, his profile facing her as he stared out the huge picture window. The view of Pine Valley was lovely, but she doubted he saw it. And she couldn’t focus on anything but her father and the words that both hurt and healed.
“Since I failed in protecting you—”
“Dad, that’s just not true,” Reagan objected fiercely.
He shook his head, holding up a hand. “To me, I didn’t do my job as your father. All I wanted for you was a life where you didn’t experience that ever again. If something should happen to me tomorrow, I wouldn’t have to worry because I’d know you were taken of. Which, for me, meant a husband who could provide for you, care for you, insulate you with his name, his wealth and connections so you wouldn’t ever know being poor, disdained or abandoned. Never know mistreatment or mishandling of your precious heart again.