Merger to Marriage (Boardrooms and Billi - By Addison Fox Page 0,31
her attention away from Holt, and, as she shifted her gaze, the response on her lips faded entirely. All she could see was her father next to their table, a woman younger than herself by his side.
“Dad. Hello.” Shock, embarrassment, and a proprietary annoyance at having her evening interrupted all coalesced in her stomach like too much dessert. Only she’d had none of the fun on the way to the stomachache.
“Mayson!” His outstretched arms demanded attention, and she was up and out of the booth before she could check herself. “How’s my baby girl?”
“Good.” Her glance flitted to the other woman before skittering back to Holt. “Good.”
She moved out of her father’s embrace and extended a hand to where Holt now stood. “Holt Turner. My father, Andrew McBride.”
The polite hellos felt interminable, especially when she got her introduction to Betsy. Even as she shook the younger woman’s hand, she couldn’t shake off the sense of embarrassment. Or the horrifying sense of cliché the moment held.
“I talked to Keira earlier. Let her know I’d be in for the shareholders meeting later this week.”
The quick change in subject caught her even farther off guard than she already was. “Don’t you want us to take care of your proxy?”
Her father shook his head, his smile so bright it bordered on clueless. “After what almost happened a few months ago, I’d like to get in there and see what you all have been up to.”
“What happened, Andy?” Betsy had shifted from foot to foot up until the opportunity to get in on a slice of possible gossip had snapped her attention.
“My girls nearly had a takeover last fall. Could have lost the company.”
“We didn’t. The company was fine before and even better now.” Mayson gritted her teeth. Not that you’d know anything of it.
“I’ll be there anyway. Never hurts to check in from time to time.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised.”
That bright, clueless smile continued to beam at her, and Mayson regretted her words. His unexpected visits hurt quite a bit, both professionally and personally, but as usual, his oblivion was absolute. The fact he’d completely missed her sarcasm was only further proof of that fact.
Her father bent to give her one last kiss before they made their good-byes. She watched him go before she dropped back into the booth, and it was long moments later before Holt finally spoke.
“I take it your father doesn’t make many shareholder meetings?”
“My father is lucky if he makes one meeting a year, so the fact he’s set his sights on this one means he’s up to something. Even if, in his own misguided way, he thinks it’s simply to support his daughters.”
“Could that be it?”
“Seeing as how he wasn’t even available for a discussion a few months back when we were dealing with Nathan’s takeover attempt, I highly doubt he’s suddenly dying to lend his support.”
Their steaks arrived and punched another break in their conversation, and Mayson fought to gather her thoughts. Her father’s actions weren’t a reflection on her. They never had been, even as she, her sisters, and her mother had borne the brunt of them.
“You’re not close?”
“You could say that. Especially since he began bringing home the classic mid-life crisis, sex-on-a-stick Barbie dolls, evidenced by Betsy there.”
“That’s sort of an insult to Barbie dolls.” His droll tone pulled her attention away from the steak she was currently sawing. Mayson felt a laugh bubble up in spite of herself, and she had to hand it to Holt for hitting straight to the heart of the matter.
“That’s not very nice.”
“I’d wager the thoughts running through your mind aren’t all that nice, either. I just put words to a few of them.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“A clear reflection on him. Not on you, in case you were wondering.”
She set down her fork and knife, unable to hold back the heavy sigh. “I know that. Really, I do. But he’s still my father, and despite my very best efforts, I love him. Which is why the embarrassment is more for me than anything else. I’ll think about this meeting for days, and he’ll likely be on to Barbie number eight hundred and forty-two by then.”
“Betsy is eight forty-one, I take it?”
“At least. Every time I try to stop counting there’s another one.”
“Our parents have a rare power to hurt us, in ways no one else can possibly touch.”
Whatever angst she felt vanished at the sincerity in Holt’s gaze. The usually clear hazel was clouded, the edges darkening in the muted light of the