“That’s right. Lark’s creative fairy tale, to find the father waiting to claim her. Naturally you made the top of the list, Griffin. You’re, well . . . mysterious.” Fleeting amusement crossed her features, then disappeared. “You had to know my daughter. Sometimes she was too smart. Tenacious. And she loved mysteries.”
I did know her.
“Why mysterious?” he asked gently.
Chapter 24
“Because you moved away, to Boston,” Rae heard herself say. “That would’ve been enough to impress Lark.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things in my time. Mysterious isn’t one of them,” Griffin said.
His modesty, coming on the heels of their argument, softened Rae. “Most of the men in our graduating class never left the area,” she explained. “They attended nearby colleges or married early. The pharmacist, the mail carrier—Lark knew most of them. Quinn told me . . . never mind.” She’d already said too much.
“What did he tell you?”
She cast a furtive glance toward the reception area outside his office. Someone had arrived. A drawer squeaked open. With a diplomatic thud, a cabinet was shut. The sharp scent of coffee reached her nose. Bits of conversation followed.
Rae’s stomach tumbled. If she’d stormed into Design Mark five minutes later, she would’ve humiliated herself in front of the entire staff. Given the tight-knit quality of Chardon and the marvels of social media, it wouldn’t have taken long for half the town to learn about it.
What am I doing here?
She remembered his question about Quinn. “It’s not important.”
“I can’t stand the suspense.” Griffin offered an engaging smile. No doubt the one he used to close the deal with a prospective client. “C’mon. Tell me.”
It was also, she realized, the smile he’d used when they were younger to win her over to his way of thinking. Or to get himself out of hot water if she was irritated by something he’d done. The way he was looking at her brought back the easy rapport they’d once enjoyed.
An unsettling development.
Relenting, she said, “According to Quinn, my daughter planned to fix my relationship with her father. Patch up a broken romance.”
“She was naive,” he supplied.
Sadness ebbed through the moment’s enchantment. “She had nothing to go on, so she built a fairy tale. She assumed once she found her father, everything else would fall into place. At that age, we were just as naive.”
“We were.”
“It’s the danger of innocence. You can’t account for the ugliness in the world. Not if you’ve never experienced it firsthand.”
“Ugliness . . . I guess that sums up my own memories.” Griffin palmed his forehead. “I’ll never understand that year. Everything the White Hurricane destroyed. I carried my regrets for a long time, Rae. I suppose that’s why I moved to Boston. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life reliving the past.”
“There’s no reason you should.”
“It’s no way to live.”
“And yet you’ve returned.”
She’d never thought to wonder why. She’d so thoroughly excised Griffin from her life, it was almost as if he’d never existed.
“Why did you come back?”
“The simple answer? Security.” He waved a hand to encompass the office. “My father gave me the building, free and clear. If I’m being truthful, however, I missed Ohio. Walking the forests, apple cider in October—it’s quieter here.” He stopped then, clearly aware he’d revealed too much. In a formal tone, he added, “Rae, I hope you’ll accept my condolences on your loss. I’m deeply sorry. If there’s ever anything you need, I’m here. If it’s not asking too much, I hope someday we can become friends.”
“Thank you.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “About Lark, her fairy tale . . .” For a long moment he paused, the hesitation on his features ill-concealed. Finally he added, “Talk to Yuna. She’ll fill in the missing pieces.”
The suggestion took Rae off guard. Yuna could no more divine Lark’s motivations than predict the future. If she’d had an inkling of Lark’s plan, she would’ve spoken up months ago.
Griffin held up a palm. “For once, don’t argue. Talk to her.”
Then his mouth tightened. Which made his tenderness more alarming when he brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. Taking his time, smoothing the strands over her shoulder. The subtle notes of his cologne whirled between them.