I want to be part of that so bad—creating a legacy. After all, I’m a Snyder too. Curie never cared about math or financial modeling, but I’ve loved both since I was a kid. I learned to read using the front pages of the Wall Street Journal Dad left on the breakfast table every morning.
Even though Dad never said it to my face, I overheard him and Mom talk about how he wished he had a son. But that’s okay. I can be the son he never had and carry on the legacy. I’m just as smart as any guy, and I can do the work. I just need to prove it, even though he isn’t too keen on me working here. He probably assumed I chose to work here because he’d be easy on me. It’s up to me to prove that I’m serious. I want to help him. I want to make a name for myself, just like he has.
The door to Dad’s office is open. I knock on the frame and stick my head in. “Hey. You wanted to see me?”
“Come on in.” He gestures with his free hand. He’s holding a cup of coffee in the other.
I take a seat and a calming breath.
“You look better,” he says.
“Thanks. I feel better.” Not a lie, even though I’m not fully recovered yet. Although he’s my dad, I’m aware that while we’re inside Snyder Financial Group, he’s my boss. I need to be careful about being overly frank.
“So. The man.”
I clear my throat, but the tiny, uncomfortable knot refuses to budge. “Uh. Yeah.”
Here it comes. We never got a chance to really talk about it in Hawaii because Dad had to leave early when the Asian stock markets and currencies had a meltdown, with some of the indexes dropping over five percent. But that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten about the scene. Who could? Or the fact that Court and I slept together. Mom told me that I’m always going to be a little girl to Dad, even when I’m sixty. Just like I don’t ever want to think about my parents doing it, I’m sure the feeling’s mutual on my dad’s part.
On the other hand, he invited Court to dinner. I’m still not sure what to make of that.
Dad leans back in his seat and gazes at me over steepled fingers with the same thoughtfulness he gets when he regards exasperating market movements. “Did you know who he was when you slept with him?”
Thank God I’m not drinking. Otherwise I might’ve spat. Time to keep it brief. Dad is the last person I want to discuss my sex life with. “I had no clue. It was just a one-time thing.”
Dad’s eyebrows dip lower, like thunderclouds ready to unleash their fury.
Shit. Wrong thing to say. No father wants to hear his daughter’s sleeping around. But I don’t want him to think I’m not serious about my career. “I mean,” I say, “he and I decided to keep things casual, and…uh…”
Dad’s expression darkens. It’s no longer just thunderclouds. A hurricane is forming. At least a category three.
Crap. I shut my mouth and smile, since I’m not going to come up with anything clever enough to come back from the blunders I’ve made already.
“It doesn’t look casual. He flew out to Hawaii to stop you from marrying. And dress pretty for Saturday.”
“But why?” I blurt out. If I had the power, I’d make this Saturday vanish from the calendar.
Dad looks at me like I’m an imbecile. “Because I invited him to dinner.”
“I’m going to be busy.”
“No, you aren’t. You never miss the Saturday family dinner, and you will not miss this one.”
But Court hasn’t ever been there. I don’t want to give the wrong impression to Dad. I don’t normally talk about my professional aspirations at SFG with him because I don’t want him to think I’m trying to influence him to act on my behalf. But it physically hurts me to shut up about how I’m trying to avoid dating right now.
Dad scowls at my silence. “Say yes.”
“You should’ve asked me before inviting him. I’m really busy, and all my nice stuff is in dry cleaning.”
“Your mother is going to be upset.”
That’s a cheap shot, but effective. I love Mom, and there’s no way I can let her down. She loves cooking for us and fussing over us, even though Curie and I are in our late twenties. “Okay, but I just want you to know I’m trying to advance in life. Like, I’m really giving it my full attention.” There. I said it, albeit obliquely.
“You will advance if you quit wasting your time on the likes of Tom.”
Dad’s derisive tone hurts, but it also reconfirms the data I gathered about the promotion. Still, I can’t stop myself from saying, “You didn’t think so when I was dating him. As a matter of fact, you told me it’d be good to have a date for Curie’s wedding.”
Ignoring that detail, he glances at the Nikkei chart. “Your new man is Harcourt Blackwood.”