Bully King - J.A. Huss Page 0,23
kinds of warning bells. After my experience with his son three years ago, I don’t trust him.
He’s surprised to find me so far away when he turns back. But he studies me. Folds his hands in front of him. Kinda rocks back on his heels. “Are you comfortable here?”
“Mm-hmm.” I nod my head and shoot him a tight-lipped smile. “Very. It’s… a lovely room. With an en suite. Nice touch.” You’re babbling, Cadee. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Good.” He keeps studying me. Kinda eyeballing my legs, actually. I suddenly find myself agreeing with Ax about the shortness of my shorts and wish I had put on sweatpants this morning. “Did you check your closet?”
“My… closet?”
He walks over to it and pulls the door open to reveal racks of dresses and shirts and stacks of sweaters and pants. How long does he expect me to live here that he purchased me sweaters? And how the hell did he do all this shopping before I showed up? “These belong to you now. So you can change.”
“I… um…” Manners, Cadee. Just remember your manners. This isn’t weird. It’s fine. “Thank you.”
“For dinner, I mean.”
“Oh. OK.”
“I don’t know if you will like anything in here.” He pans a hand to the closet.
“Oh, I’m sure—”
“No. I mean, all this belonged to my third wife. She left them behind when I kicked her out.”
“Ohhhhh.”
“So you might not like any of it. She and you…” He tsks his tongue. “Let’s just say you have much better taste. Let me know if you need anything. I just figured you needed clothes after the mishap this morning and there wasn’t time to get anything else set up.”
Well. Wow. I do not even know where to begin. Everything I thought was happening is suddenly up in the air. Several dozen new alternatives begin to formulate in my mind, and I find myself very unsure of which game we are playing here.
It has to be a game. Doesn’t it? He can’t just be a nice man who wants to help me?
If there’s one thing I know about the Valcourts, it’s that they are not nice.
“I’m sure it’s fine. Thank you. I mean, truly. My whole life has flipped upside down since my mom died two weeks ago.”
He frowns at me. Deeply. And nods. “I know. I liked your mother. A lot, actually. She made the very best little shortcakes for the cafeteria. Did she make those at home, too?”
I nod, suddenly feeling sad. “Yeah. She did. They were my favorite dessert as well.”
We’re silent for a minute. A long minute. So long it starts to become awkward and I want to say something. Anything to break this uncomfortable moment. But I don’t even know where to start.
“She was my friend,” he suddenly blurts.
“What?”
“Your mother.” He pauses. “Yes. I would count her a friend. I was at the funeral.”
“You were? I didn’t—”
“No, I stayed in the back and left early.”
“I’m sorry… what’s going on here? Were you two having—”
“No.” He puts his hands up, palms forward, trying to ward off my words. “No. It wasn’t like that. She was… just a friend.” Then he smiles at me with tight lips, the way I was smiling at him when he first entered. “She loved your father. Was devastated when he died.”
“I don’t really want to talk about this,” I whisper.
“I know. I understand. But… what I really want you to know is this—they have a legacy here. The gardens are your father’s work. The desserts the cafeteria will continue to make will remain your mother’s recipes. You are a legacy, Cadee. I really want you to stay here with us.”
“Here?” I point to the floor. I am not staying in this house.
“Wherever you’re comfortable. I was busy this morning. I didn’t have a lot of time to come up with solutions. And Cooper.” He sighs loudly and rubs his temple. “That boy. Not to mention Mona.” He spits her name out. “The point is… the garden cottage is vacant. I would like you to live there. If you stay. It’s up to you. You don’t have to take the summer job if you don’t see yourself at High Court for the next four years.” He reaches into his suit coat pocket and pulls out an envelope. “I have a severance packet for you. For your mother. And your father. They were loyal. Legacies, like I said.” He stretches his hand out, beckoning me forward to take the envelope from him.
I stare at the