Mother, Please! - By Brenda Novak & Jill Shalvis & Alison Kent Page 0,5
passed over her face. “Why? So he can spend more time with that…that incense-burning floozy? I begged him for years to take life easier, to let us go away on our own sometimes, to come home for dinner at night, to simply relax a little and be a husband and father. Would he do it? No! That business was too damned important to him. Now, after all the years I shared him with his beloved company, he’s going to sell, just like that?” She snapped her fingers.
Gunner sent April a dark look, thanking her for putting him in such an awkward position, and she smiled in a self-satisfied way. “I tried to tell Gunner he was probably wasting his time here. Dad doesn’t have the right to sell the business without your permission.”
“He doesn’t?” her mother said.
“Of course not,” April replied. “The business is community property. You own half of it, remember?”
“That’s right.” Claire’s gaze remained fastened on her daughter’s for a moment, then she threw her shoulders back and turned to Gunner. “We won’t let him sell.”
“You won’t let him sell,” April amended.
Claire stood taller still. “I won’t let him sell.”
“Even if it means you’ll walk away from your divorce with several million dollars in your pocket?” Gunner replied coolly.
Claire seemed to waver. “Why does it always come down to money? We were married thirty-three years,” she said to no one in particular. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
April bolstered her by stepping closer. “Actually, we’re still hoping my father will come around and there won’t be a divorce,” she said.
Gunner glanced at Rod, who seemed completely unaffected by this statement. Walt was across the room, talking to Regina and a man Gunner had never met. In his view, April and her mother were hanging on to a relationship that was long gone. As painful as it was for them, he thought they’d be better off to face the truth and take what cash they could. But thirty-three years was a long time. Gunner could understand why they’d fight to save their family. He just hadn’t realized the situation was quite so messy. He didn’t want to be dragged into something that could possibly become even more complicated and might not end well.
Taking a deep breath, he made a decision. “If you change your mind, you’ve got my number.” He handed his card to April, who was obviously calling the shots—on her mother’s part, anyway. Then he turned on his heel and walked out, into the brisk night air—Los Angeles’s mild version of winter—and hailed a cab. He was going back to New York whether there was anything waiting for him or not.
CHAPTER THREE
“WHAT THE HELL did you and your mother say to him last night?”
April pulled the phone away from her ear so her father couldn’t blast out her eardrum while she tried to rouse herself from sleep. She’d known he wouldn’t be happy with her defection where Gunner Stevens was concerned, but she hadn’t expected Walt to call her at—she fumbled for her glasses and shoved them on so she could see the numerals on the alarm clock—six in the morning. On Sunday, six was early even for her. “Dad, I don’t think this is the time to sell Ashton Automotive,” she said.
“I didn’t ask you,” he thundered. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been running this company on my own for twenty-seven years and I’ve managed to do a damn good job.”
“This is different.”
“Like hell it is. This is my company. I built it. As long as I give your mother half of everything when the divorce is final, I’ve done my duty.”
Since her parents had split up, April had tried to remain as neutral as possible. She’d known her father was hurting her mother, and hated that. But her father had a right to live his own life—no matter how hard it was to sit back and watch what was happening.
“Dad, Regina’s a nice woman, but surely you can see that—”
“What?” he broke in. “What can I see?”
“That she’s…” What could she say? Regina is a little strange? It was true, but her father wouldn’t accept it, and starting an argument wouldn’t make things any easier. Catching herself, April tried a different tack. “Are you sure the direction your life is taking will make you happy? You spent thirty-three years with Mom. How can you throw that away?”
“Your mother and I fell out of love years ago,” he said.
April winced, knowing that tears would fill Claire’s