on the smooth
wood that had been warmed by the sun. Overhead, an eagle swooped through the
air, then settled high in an old oak tree to watch over the scene from his
lofty perch.
"Chomping at the bit to get back to New York," he responded.
"Which I could do if you weren't so obstinate."
She nudged him with her elbow. "Come on, admit it. You like being
here."
"For a visit," he insisted. "I've never wanted any part of the
bank. That was your dream, not mine."
"Unfortunately, Daddy doesn't see it that way. In his male-dominated
world, the family estate must go to the eldest son. Daughters get whatever's
left over."
He frowned at her. "Not the way I heard it. Dad said he offered you a
position at the bank."
"Did he happen to mention what that position was?"
"The same one I'm in, I assume."
"Well, you assume wrong. He expected me to work as Raymond's assistant,
which, in case you haven't figured out the pecking order there yet, amounts to
a clerical job that any high school kid could do."
Trace winced. "That was not the impression he gave me."
"Ask him, if you don't believe me."
Unfortunately, Trace believed her. It would be just like his father to dangle a
job in front of Laila, knowing that it was beneath her and that she'd turn it
down. Then he could claim—as he had to Trace—that he'd given her a chance.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She shrugged, pretending it didn't matter, but Trace knew better.
"Don't be sorry," she claimed anyway. "It was just Dad being his
usual sexist self. I'm used to it by now."
"I don't know if it helps, but I've told him you're the one he should be
grooming to take over."
"Oddly enough, it does help."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, before she glanced his way. "Abby's
in town. Did you know that?"
"I'd heard she might be coming for a visit," he replied neutrally.
"Have you seen her?"
He shook his head. "But I imagine we'll cross paths before she
leaves."
"How do you feel about that?"
"We're adults," he said with a touch of impatience. "It's been a
long time. I'm sure we'll manage to be civil, Laila."
"I didn't ask how you expected to behave. I asked how you feel about
seeing her again. We both know she was the love of your life and you've never
gotten over her."
He regarded her wryly. "Oh, we both know that, do we?"
"Well, I know it," she said, giving him a crooked smile.
"You, however, may be too stupid and stubborn to admit it. You are a guy,
after all."
"I'm not discussing Abby with you."
Laila wasn't easy to deter once she'd gotten her teeth into a subject.
"Come on, Trace. Admit it. It just about killed you when she left town. I
was here. I saw what it did to you."
"Then why would you want to remind me of all that now?"
"Because this could be your chance to find out what happened."
"I know what happened. Abby made a decision to cut me out of her life. End
of story."
"That's not the end of the story," his sister contradicted.
"It's only the part of the story you know. Find out the rest. Maybe it
will put an end to that whole episode once and for all, so you can move on."
"I moved on years ago," he claimed.
"Baloney!"
He stared at her, his lips twitching. "What are we, five?"
"I'm not, but that seems to be your maturity level when it comes to this
one thing. Adults face each other and deal with their issues."
"I'm not the one who left. Have you had this conversation with Abby?"
"I did ten years ago," Laila admitted.
Trace flinched. "Really? And what did Abby reveal to you that she didn't
bother telling me?"
"She told me to butt out, as a matter of fact."
He laughed, but there was little humor in the sound. "Seems like good
advice to me."
He was struck by the same nagging thought that had come to him at the bank on
his first day there. "You haven't shared any of this with Dad, have
you?"
"About you and Abby? No, why?"
He studied her face, trying to decide if he could trust what she was saying.
"It just seems awfully convenient that Dad decides to push
wood that had been warmed by the sun. Overhead, an eagle swooped through the
air, then settled high in an old oak tree to watch over the scene from his
lofty perch.
"Chomping at the bit to get back to New York," he responded.
"Which I could do if you weren't so obstinate."
She nudged him with her elbow. "Come on, admit it. You like being
here."
"For a visit," he insisted. "I've never wanted any part of the
bank. That was your dream, not mine."
"Unfortunately, Daddy doesn't see it that way. In his male-dominated
world, the family estate must go to the eldest son. Daughters get whatever's
left over."
He frowned at her. "Not the way I heard it. Dad said he offered you a
position at the bank."
"Did he happen to mention what that position was?"
"The same one I'm in, I assume."
"Well, you assume wrong. He expected me to work as Raymond's assistant,
which, in case you haven't figured out the pecking order there yet, amounts to
a clerical job that any high school kid could do."
Trace winced. "That was not the impression he gave me."
"Ask him, if you don't believe me."
Unfortunately, Trace believed her. It would be just like his father to dangle a
job in front of Laila, knowing that it was beneath her and that she'd turn it
down. Then he could claim—as he had to Trace—that he'd given her a chance.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She shrugged, pretending it didn't matter, but Trace knew better.
"Don't be sorry," she claimed anyway. "It was just Dad being his
usual sexist self. I'm used to it by now."
"I don't know if it helps, but I've told him you're the one he should be
grooming to take over."
"Oddly enough, it does help."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, before she glanced his way. "Abby's
in town. Did you know that?"
"I'd heard she might be coming for a visit," he replied neutrally.
"Have you seen her?"
He shook his head. "But I imagine we'll cross paths before she
leaves."
"How do you feel about that?"
"We're adults," he said with a touch of impatience. "It's been a
long time. I'm sure we'll manage to be civil, Laila."
"I didn't ask how you expected to behave. I asked how you feel about
seeing her again. We both know she was the love of your life and you've never
gotten over her."
He regarded her wryly. "Oh, we both know that, do we?"
"Well, I know it," she said, giving him a crooked smile.
"You, however, may be too stupid and stubborn to admit it. You are a guy,
after all."
"I'm not discussing Abby with you."
Laila wasn't easy to deter once she'd gotten her teeth into a subject.
"Come on, Trace. Admit it. It just about killed you when she left town. I
was here. I saw what it did to you."
"Then why would you want to remind me of all that now?"
"Because this could be your chance to find out what happened."
"I know what happened. Abby made a decision to cut me out of her life. End
of story."
"That's not the end of the story," his sister contradicted.
"It's only the part of the story you know. Find out the rest. Maybe it
will put an end to that whole episode once and for all, so you can move on."
"I moved on years ago," he claimed.
"Baloney!"
He stared at her, his lips twitching. "What are we, five?"
"I'm not, but that seems to be your maturity level when it comes to this
one thing. Adults face each other and deal with their issues."
"I'm not the one who left. Have you had this conversation with Abby?"
"I did ten years ago," Laila admitted.
Trace flinched. "Really? And what did Abby reveal to you that she didn't
bother telling me?"
"She told me to butt out, as a matter of fact."
He laughed, but there was little humor in the sound. "Seems like good
advice to me."
He was struck by the same nagging thought that had come to him at the bank on
his first day there. "You haven't shared any of this with Dad, have
you?"
"About you and Abby? No, why?"
He studied her face, trying to decide if he could trust what she was saying.
"It just seems awfully convenient that Dad decides to push
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