As we pulled through the gate, I really lost it, crying my eyes out. I wanted a response, damn it, preferably one that was open to the idea of undoing all this damage.
“Meg, stop,” he said sharply, pulling into our big ten car garage. “I can't believe you're worried about money. Have you forgotten we always take care of our debts? This family never lets anybody down who's done us a kindness. We're Wilders, after all. Here, let's go into my office.”
Nodding glumly, I followed him. We went inside and headed straight for his study with the fireplace and the tall walnut shelves, the same place he used to read me stories as a kid. Maybe I had a pang of guilt that second, standing there while he rummaged around in his desk drawer, but it wouldn't stop me.
I'm sorry, Dad. You'll understand one day. We both will, if everything goes the way I'm expecting.
I watched him pull out his check book and some paperwork with our attorney's logo. “Now, how much do you think it'll take to put things right with Becky? That was a custom model, wasn't it? Let's say, a hundred and fifty thousand, drawn straight from your trust?”
More than I expected, I thought with a sigh. But not enough.
“Actually,” I sniffed, blotting at my eyes as he handed me a tissue. “Becky told me she paid over two hundred grand. And she said something about tax troubles with her mom, I don't really know, something about taking all of her money in cash.”
“Cash?” Dad's eyes went wide. “My, I didn't realize Harold and Penelope were in that kind of trouble. Are you really asking me to pull money out of your account and hand it over to her in a briefcase or something like a mafia don?”
I flashed an uneasy smile. Close enough.
“I'm sorry, I just think it'll be easier this way. I don't want any more screw ups. She's sticking by me, and I'll be devastated if I lose my only friend right now. Please don't spend a dime of your own money. Take it all from my account. Let's make it an even quarter million.”
He cocked his head. “That's a lot for a low-end luxury ride with all the bells and whistles. Are you sure, Megan?”
“Cross my heart. I want her to have more than she needs, anything to show her I'm serious about her friendship. She needs to see how sorry I am.” I sat down in the chair, satisfaction and guilt mingling in my blood as Dad sighed, ran a hand over his face, and slowly folded.
“All right. We'll grab it tomorrow and I'll drop you off for lunch – you're sure not driving yourself. But after the interview with the detective this week, you're on your way to therapy for the rest of the month. That's the deal. Got it?”
“Of course.” I smiled. “Say, maybe when I'm better again, I can handle my own affairs? I know you've been giving me access to the funds when I really need them, but it makes me feel like a kid. Granpda said –“
“I know what your grandfather said, Megan. It's your money.” He clenched his teeth. “And yes, it's abundantly clear to me now that you're not the same girl you were when that man took you away from us. But as for who or what you've become...well, I think we're both figuring that out. Fair?”
“Fair,” I repeated, looking at the ground.
He'd come around sooner or later. I'd have the money I needed for Skin tomorrow, and then I'd work on flying right so I could get the rest to actually repay Becky. Of course, the stuff about her family having tax trouble was a little white lie – it was quite the opposite.
I half-expected her to pull up to the cafe in a flashy new car. The money I threw at her in another month or two to replace the car would just go toward her elaborate wedding, and hopefully show Crawford he was with the right woman for life.
The day went fast. I went to the bank with Dad in the morning and got my cash. The tellers took nearly an hour to make sure it was all there, processing the jumbo cash order and filing it neatly in a cheap leather duffel bag we'd picked out.
Then it was off to lunch with Becky. She squealed when she saw me and ordered us desserts, skipping the healthier fare completely.
This time, talking to her was a lot more like old times, two young women scheming over men and mischief. I danced around who exactly Skin was, and what he did for a living.
Hell, I didn't actually know. I knew the club was tight on cash, which was why getting this to him was so serious, but he had to earn money some way, didn't he? They all did, and it couldn't be legal.
We parted on good terms. I promised her I'd have the money as soon as possible, and she told me to drop it off when I could make a day of it. I owed her a date to look at wedding dresses.
After lunch, my father picked me up and brought me home, with just a brief warning Detective Numbnuts was waiting for me. I pretended the bag stuffed with cash underneath my feet was empty. Thankfully, Daddy was totally oblivious, too caught up in having this agent at his house once again to check.
We sat down at the kitchen table with Harlow. He brought out his camera for the third time, and I repeated my story verbatim.