Maggie's Dad Read Online Free PDF Page B

when he throws barbecues out on the Rutherford spread.”
    â€œWhat a good idea! I’ll suggest it to him the next time we see him.”
    â€œI wouldn’t hold my breath,” he replied. “He travels a lot these days. I hardly ever see him.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “Powell came by last week.”
    Her heart fluttered, but her face was very composed. “Did he? Why?”
    â€œHeard I was sick and came to check on me. Wanted to know where you were.”
    Her frozen expression grew darker. “Did he?”
    â€œI told him you didn’t know about the bronchitis and that he should mind his own business.”
    â€œI see.”
    He sipped hot chocolate and put the mug down with a thud. “Had his daughter with him. Quiet, sullen little thing. She never moved a muscle the whole time, just sat and glared. She’s her mother all over.”
    Antonia was dying inside. She stared into her hot chocolate. That woman’s child, here, in her home! She could hardly bear the thought. It was like a violation to have Powell come here with that child.
    â€œYou’re upset,” he said ruefully. “I guessed you would be, but I thought you’d better know. He said he’d be back to check on me after Christmas. Wouldn’t want him to just show up without my telling you he was expected sooner or later. Not that I invited him,” he added curtly. “Surprised me, too, that he’d come to see about me. Of course, he was fond of your mother. It hurt him that the scandal upset her so much and caused her to have that first heart attack. Anyway, he’s taken it upon himself to be my guardian angel. Even sent the doctor when I first got sick, conspired with Mrs. Harper next door to look after me.” He sounded disgusted, but he smiled, too.
    â€œThat was nice of him,” she said, although Powell’s actions surprised her. “But thanks for warning me.” She forced a smile to her lips. “I’ll arrange to do something in the kitchen if he turns up.”
    â€œIt’s been nine years,” he reminded her.
    â€œAnd you think I should have forgotten.” She nodded. “You forgive people, Dad. I used to, beforeall this. Perhaps I should be more charitable, but I can’t be. He and Sally made my life hell.” She stopped, dragging in a long breath.
    â€œNo other suitors, in all that time,” he remarked. “No social life, no dating. Girl, you’re going to die an old maid, with no kids of your own, no husband, no real security.”
    â€œI enjoy my own company,” she said lightly. “And I don’t want a child.” That was a lie, but only a partial one. The children she had wanted were Powell’s, no one else’s.
    Â 
    Christmas Day passed uneventfully, except for the meager gifts she and her father exchanged and their shared memories of her late mother to keep them company.
    The next day, she was packed and dressed for travel in a rose knit suit, her hair carefully coiffed, her long legs in hose and low-heeled shoes on her feet. Her burgundy velvet, full-length coat was slung over one arm, its dark lining gleaming in the overhead light, as she put her suitcase down and went to find her father to say goodbye.
    Voices from the living room caught her attention and she moved in that direction. But at the doorway, she froze in place, and in time. That deep, gravelly voice was as familiar as her own, despite the many years since she’d last heard it. And then a tall, lean man turned, and cast narrow black eyes on her face. Powell!
    She lifted her face slowly, not allowing a hint of emotion to show either in her posture or her eyes. She simply looked at him, reconciling this man in his thirties with the man who’d wanted to marry her. The memories were unfavorable, because he was definitely showing his age, in the new lines beside his mouth and eyes, in the silver that showed at his