navy with a dark maroon tie, and his silver hair was slick and styled. He nodded his approval as he totted up the totals, realising, as I had long since done, that our team was on track to be a solid performer.
And so was our sweet little Katie.
I pulled her to my side, be damned with professional distance, and her body had become tense, her excitement drying up to nothing.
“Good afternoon,” David said to the room. “My apologies I haven’t been around sooner, but I assure you I’ve been hearing a great deal about your progress from Carl. I hope you’ve enjoyed your first few weeks with us, we know the learning curve is intense, and the adjustment is hard, but I promise the effort will pay off.”
He did the usual introductions, a bit of a company overview, a talk about opportunities post the training programme and a motivational speech about how proud he was of the work everyone was putting in. He was well-practised, his eyes moving steadily across the desks, making eye contact to convey his sincerity, but I knew him too well. Well enough to realise that he was fighting the compulsion to stare in our direction, stare at Katie, at his little star performer.
I was glad he fought it, because Katie’s eyes were narrow, her lips tight, her gaze anywhere but on him. I brushed her fingers with mine, hooked them gently and pulled her hand behind my back out of view where I could hold it properly. I squeezed and she squeezed, pressing that little bit tighter to my side.
It felt so wrong to hide the way I felt from her father, even in the heart of my corporate surroundings. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arm around her waist and hold her, encourage her to broach the distance and speak with him. I’d hold her hand and I’d tell him how wonderful she was, how hard she was working, how great she was doing. How proud I was, how proud he should be.
How she’d wrapped her dainty little fingers around my heart and stolen it. Rick’s too.
I wanted to say all those things, but when David pulled a handful of golden envelopes from his pocket and called the first of the star performers up to claim one, I said nothing, did nothing.
Katie pulled her hand from mine when she realised the inevitable, and I expected her to bail before he called her name, turn tail and disappear to sleight him, leaving him standing with a golden envelope in his hand and egg on his face. She didn’t. She stood still, stern-faced and tense, but rooted to the spot.
I started up an applause when Ryan’s name was called, and his smile lit up the room as he collected his envelope. David shook his hand, congratulated him on an exceptional result, two sterling leads in the first stage of training was impressive, he said, very well done indeed, he said.
And then he turned his attention to Katie with one remaining envelope in his hand.
His smile was bright, and his eyes were warm and proud. It pained me somewhere deep to see the chasm of disconnection between father and daughter.
“Katie,” he said, and he beckoned her. “Please, come and get your prize.”
There was so much emphasis on the please, a quiet desperation, the tone of a man eager to bridge a divide and make it right. Katie didn’t move, and my heart was in my throat, my hand on her back to encourage her forward. She resisted, but only for a moment, taking slow steps in her fancy heels, looking mature and professional in her suit as she made her way to him.
Her smile was stilted and her hand was tense and awkward as she shook his. I saw the flash of emotion across his face as she dropped her eyes to the floor.
My heart broke a little for him, and it broke for her, too. For the love waiting right there for her, imperfect love from a man who meant it, a man who’d made his mistakes and lived to regret them, a man who was good and kind in the heart of him, a man who wanted to be there.
A man who’d tried to be there, and failed.
I thought he would admit defeat and let her go with nothing more than an awkward handshake, but I should have known better than that. He handed her the envelope, and took advantage of the moment.