Chapter 11
Two days later Kia entered her parents' three-story mansion, strolling into a marble foyer that was nearly the size of her apartment. Sunday brunch with her parents was not to be missed. If she missed it, her mother would pout at her, but her father would make a habit of dropping by her apartment, spur of the moment, for weeks, just to check on her. It was as bad as missing holiday dinners. Something else Kia didn't dare attempt.
They worried about her, she knew, and no amount of arguing against it would ever change the fact that, in their eyes, she was still their baby.
Her parents were older when they had her. Her father was already in his late thirties, her mother nearly thirty-five herself. Now, twenty-seven years later, they still wanted to treat her like the twenty-one-year-old who had left their home on her husband's arm.
Brunch on Sundays and holidays was a big thing for her mother. The one day when her husband and child were both at the table with her. Cecilia Rutherford insisted they dress up for the event. Kia wore sedate pearls at her ears and neck. A plain gold wristwatch, black wool slacks, and a gray sweater complemented the leather jacket her father had gotten her last Christmas.
Kia was dreading this particular brunch. She knew her parents. They were constantly trying to fix her up with someone, always worried about her unmarried state and her lack of babies. As though all she needed to be happy was a husband and a couple of children.
"There you are, dear." Her mother, Celia, refused to go gray. Even at sixty-two her hair was still the same champagne blond it had been when she married, with a little help from her beautician.
Her father on the other hand, Timothy Rutherford, had aged like fine whiskey. He wasn't overly tall, just right at five feet eleven inches, against his wife's five-foot-four frame.
Unfortunately, Kia had inherited that small delicate body. She would have much preferred to be tall, slender, and svelte.
"Hi, Daddy." She reached up and kissed his cheek as he rose from the round glass table in the now heated sun room.
He was dressed in Sunday casual. Sharply creased dress slacks and a white dress shirt. Her mother wore her pearls as well, and a silk dress.
All for Sunday brunch.
Kia remembered her years growing up when she hated dressing for dinner. Sometimes she'd longed to order pizza and watch television as she ate.
Strictly forbidden in the Rutherford household.
It had been a good place to grow up, though. She had been sheltered and protected. She went to the right schools, and all her friends were from the right families, and the Rutherford princess had never known a moment's pain.
Until she married the reigning prince of her father's offices. And what a disaster that had been.
"You're looking beautiful, sweetheart." Her mother turned her cheek up for a kiss. "Isn't she beautiful today, Timothy?"
Her father grunted in a no-response tone while sneaking Kia an amused wink.
"He's no help whatsoever," her mother fussed as they sat down.
"I was supposed to be helping?" Her father's lined face wrinkled into a pretend scowl.
Her mother shooed at him before turning back to Kia.
"I saw you leave the ball the other night with Chase Falladay. Are you two seeing each other now?"
That was her mother. She never put off to tomorrow what she could be nosy about today.
"Chase and I are just friends, Mom," she told her firmly, but it hurt. Oh how it hurt. Deep inside, in a place that had never known pain until Chase.
"Just friends?" Her father's voice rumbled in that fatherly, warning way.
"I'm not so old I don't remember what that means."
Kia leaned back in her chair as the maid placed coffee and water in front of her before her assistant came bearing food.
"Just simply friends, Daddy." She gave him a firm look of her own. "Chase is a very nice gentleman."
God was going to strike her dead for that one.
"Hmphf." Her father grunted again and gave her a knowing look, though he dropped the subject.
"Well, that's too bad," her mother said. "We're not getting any younger, Kia. Grandbabies would be nice."
" A husband would be nice first," her father growled. "The other fathers are carting their sons-in-law around like extra baggage. Where's mine?"
"And the other mothers in my bridge club have grandbabies," her mother told her. "They babysit." Her mother sighed. "I would make an excellent babysitter, Kia."
"Yes, sir. Yes, ma'am. I'll run right out to the husband store and then to the baby store and take care of that before I head home today."
She was unaware of the edge in her voice. She tried to keep it light and amusing, and she missed the look her parents shared. Full of concern and confusion.
They were parents. They knew their daughter. She had shadows under her eyes, and there was an edge of disillusionment that even Drew hadn't been able to put there.
Timothy sipped at his water, his gaze sharper on his only child now. He would never forget receiving that call, two years ago, that his daughter was in trouble and her husband was possibly abusing her.
He had rushed to her apartment, found her in her bathroom, hysterical, wrapped in a towel and begging him to get her out of there.
The need to destroy Drew Stanton rode him often. The little bastard still worked for him, but only because the son of a bitch was still paying her alimony. And if Timothy heard of any more shenanigans going on where Kia's charity functions were concerned, some heads were going to roll.
Not that his daughter deigned to tell him about it. No, he had to play games to learn the information from others. She was too independent, too determined. She always had been.
"She's getting cheeky, Timothy," Celia pointed out.
"Yes, I heard it." He nodded, giving his daughter a mock glare. "Perhaps we should go shopping with her, Celia. A family effort, so to speak, so she doesn't take too long making up her mind."
Finally, a spark of laughter lit Kia's gemlike eyes, and she lowered her head, a light laugh passing her lips.
"You two are impossible," she groaned.
"We're parents," he reminded her. "Now, eat your food. I heard your aunt has you busy with the party tomorrow night. Don't let her wear you down."
"And your dress arrived here by mistake Friday," her mother informed her. "You can take it home with you tonight. We'll send Farrell with a limo to pick you up. You are not arriving in a cab. I don't want to hear about it."
"Yes, Mom." She almost rolled her eyes, but caught her father watching her.
He was almost grinning, hoping to catch her.
"There's a nice young man at Delacourte-Conovers you might like," he told her smoothly. "Very handsome gentleman, I'm told. Related to those two young hellions, Lucian and Devril. Daniel Conover."
Kia stared back at her father warningly.
"Well, he has strong features." Timothy shrugged. "He'd sire strong boys."
She just stared.
He cleared his throat. "You could use an escort to the party."
She laid her fork beside her plate.
"Well, fine. I've said my piece. Don't upset your mother by leaving."
He dug into his own food, and Kia ignored the comments about other couples' grandchildren, sons-in-law, and various family affairs.
She ignored it, because listening to it only made the ache deeper. It made her remember the night Chase had forgotten to put on a condom after she'd asked to come in her mouth and then afterward nearly spilled inside her.
And that wasn't something she needed to remember in front of her father.
Her parents could read minds. It was creepy.
Celia wanted to weep for her baby, though. Kia was the pride of her life, and she was so alone. It broke her heart, worried her into the night. If she and Timothy were gone, who would protect their most precious possession, their greatest accomplishment in life? Who would protect Kia against the world, the cruelties of life, and the loneliness and hurt that filled her? Who would watch over their little girl?
Cecilia glanced at her husband and saw the same concerns in his face.
Kia had hidden for far too long after her divorce. They had had hope the other night when she left the ball with the Falladay boy.
Chase Falladay was a handsome, honest young man, and Celia had always liked him. Ian Sinclair always spoke highly of him and his brother.
Of course, there were those nasty rumors that went around about them, but there were always nasty rumors. One had to trust that their daughter was making certain they were unfounded.
"How's your aunt's little party going?" Timothy finally questioned Kia.
The party was a joint effort by him and his sister. Rutherford Logistics, Timothy's company, and Edgewood Computer Security Service worked together to hold a benefit ball to raise money for a small women and children's shelter for Christmas.
Kia nodded. "Everything's ready to go. I'm meeting with the caterers again in the morning as well as the hotel staff." She checked her watch. "I'll be stopping by today after brunch to make certain all the decorations arrived as well."
Kia let the conversation flow around her. She finished the light meal and thanked the maid for more coffee. But her mind wasn't here. Her heart wasn't here today.
It was with Chase. To Kia, that was the height of her own stupidity.
Because he had made it abundantly clear, he didn't want to be with her.
"You're not happy," Timothy said, interrupting her thoughts, his hand lifting so his index finger could tap the tip of her nose. "I always know when something's bothering you, Kia girl. You sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"I'm fine, Daddy." She tried to smile back at him, but he knew her, this strong, large-boned man with his gentle brown eyes and thick gray hair.
"You could move back home," he said as he watched her. "House is too big for just me and your mom."
She shook her head. "I like the apartment."
He nodded at that. "Your mother's worried."
He always blamed her mother for worrying, but Kia knew he was worried as well.
"I just need to get some priorities together," she finally said. "I'm learning how to live again, Daddy. That isn't so bad, is it?"
"He hurt you."
And to that Kia shook her head. "No, Daddy, I never loved him enough to be hurt by him," she said. "And that's very sad, because I married him. I never want that again. I want—" She stared around the house and blinked back her tears before she looked back up at her father. "I want what you and Mom have always had. I want to love someone more than I love me. And I want someone to love me more than themselves. Isn't that how it should be?"
Timothy swallowed tightly. He loved Celia and the daughter she had given him more than his own life, his pride, or the holdings he had acquired in his life. They were the center of his being, and the joy they brought him was immeasurable. It was exactly what he wanted for her.
"That's how it should be, sweetheart." He pulled her into his embrace and kissed the top of her head gently. "Exactly how it should be."
And he prayed she would find it before her heart was scarred to the point that she no longer wanted it.
Finally, he forced himself to let go of that worry. She was safe, if not as happy as he wished. And she was still a vital part of Rutherford Logistics.
"Did you get the cost projections on the new account?" he asked her, watching as her expression altered subtly.
His daughter slipped into her businesswoman mode, one most people had no idea existed.
"They need to rerun their figures. You could make twice that profit if you go with a smaller trucking company. That particular product doesn't move in enough quantity to excuse making room for it in a larger warehouse."
"That's not what figures are coming out to," he informed her.
She shrugged, confidence curving her body, her expression. "I sent you my own observations via e-mail this morning. You can go over them, see what you think from there."
"Why don't you get your butt back in your office and tell them yourself?"
he growled, returning to another disagreement they shared. "You weren't meant to consult, damn it."
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
"I'm not ready."
Celia watched, hid her smile, and kept her own opinion, her desires, to herself. There was something about Kia, and with a woman's intuition she knew it concerned a man, and her daughter's strength.
There were a lot of things Kia hadn't been ready for in the past two years, but Celia had a feeling that soon her daughter would find her boundaries. When she did, God help her father and any other man who would want to stand before her to protect her.
They had done that. Sheltered her where they could. She was coming out of her shelter. And Celia was cheering her on, albeit silently, every step of the way.