“Hey Maggie,” one of the nurses called as she rounded the counter.

“Hey, Clare,” Maggie answered. “Is my dad in his room?”

“No, I think he’s in the dining room.”

Maggie glanced at her watch. It was just before eleven. “Okay, thanks.”

“He’s a hoot,” Clare called after her.

Maggie glanced over her shoulder. “Who?”

“Your father.” She smiled wide. “He tells the funniest jokes, I swear. He has us all cracking up.”

Maggie shook her head. When had her father ever been funny? Shaking off the comment, and feelings of jealousy that she’d had to live her whole life with an entirely different man than Clare knew, they made their way to the dining room.

“There he is,” Maggie said to Valerie. She’d told her friend she could stay in the car, but Valerie had insisted. Maggie made her way through the maze of tables and stopped just behind her father, listening to him speak to his tablemate.

“What did the duck say when he bought lipstick?” Her father asked.

“I don’t know,” the older man answered.

“Put it on my bill.” Her father bellowed with laughter, along with the other gentleman.

Maggie found herself laughing quietly. “Hey Dad.”

Her father glanced up. “Hey, Mag Pie.” His face split with a wide grin.

Even after a year of his sobriety, Maggie couldn’t get used to what a different man he was. When she’d been young, he’d never smiled at her like this. And her childhood nickname had been forgotten years ago, traded in for sneers and tongue-lashings more vicious than any whip.

She’d vowed to never let herself get used to the man who sat in front of her now. She knew all too well how painful it was when he failed, when he let her down. When it came to Bill Lawrence, Maggie wondered if she would always assume the worst.

“I didn’t hear you walk in,” he said.

Valerie stepped around Maggie. “Hello, Bill.” She held out her hand. “We haven’t ever officially met. I’m Valerie Sumner.”

Her father surveyed Valerie from head to toe.

Shit, why hadn’t she anticipated this? Her father hated the Sumners. Why had she let Valerie talk her into coming?

Her father stood, his face grave.

Maggie drew in a deep breath. There was no way in hell she’d stand by and let her dad turn his cruelty on Valerie.

“Hello, Mrs. Sumner.” Her father took Valerie’s small hand in his. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Maggie’s eyes widened and she had to struggle to swallow back the torrent of anger she’d been about to spew.

“John was a fine man,” her father said. “He’ll be missed by many in Canyon Creek.”

What. The. Hell? Maggie had never heard her father say a kind word about many people, especially the Sumners.

“Thank you, Bill. I appreciate your words. And please, call me Valerie.”

Her father smiled and released her hand. “Valerie, it is.” He motioned toward the table. “Won’t you ladies join us for lunch?”

Maggie glanced around the small room. “We can’t stay long, Dad, I just needed to check in with your medical staff—”

“Nonsense,” Valerie said, pulling out a chair and sliding in. “We have time for lunch.” She glanced up at Maggie. “Don’t we?”

It wasn’t really a question.

“Uh, sure.” Maggie squeezed into the chair next to her father.

Her father pointed to the older man sitting across from him. Oxygen tubing was wrapped around his ears and secured in his nose. “This is Rafael.”

The older gentleman nodded.

Maggie feared the man would nod off at any moment. She hoped he didn’t tip over into his soup when he did.

“Hello,” Valerie extended her hand. The man didn’t move so she quickly pulled back her arm.

“Look, Dad,” Maggie said, “we can’t stay long. Valerie and I have to get back to the lodge—”

“Thank you so much for giving my daughter a chance, Mrs. Sumner.” Her father interrupted her.

Wait, what?

“Oh, trust me, hiring Maggie was the best decision John and I ever made.” Valerie beamed with pride.

“I know I didn’t give her the best start,” her father glanced at Maggie.

She choked back a laugh. That was the understatement of the century.

“But she’s grown into such a beautiful, accomplished woman, in spite of me,” he added. “Can’t take a damned bit of credit for it, but I am proud.”

What the hell were they putting in this soup? Was he serious right now?

Maggie worked hard not to roll her eyes.

“Maggie.” Valerie’s voice was quiet.

“Yes?” Maggie tilted her head.

Valerie nodded toward her father.

Maggie’s temper flared. “What? You expect me to thank him for finally giving me the credit and acknowledgement I deserve.” She glared at her father, carefully dropping her voice. “Why don’t you tell Valerie what you used to call me, Dad.” Maggie snarled.

“Maggie,” her father whispered, slipping his hand toward her on the table.

She skidded her chair back. “No. You don’t get to sit there and make my friend think you’ve changed. You haven’t.”

Her father’s head fell.

Maggie couldn’t help but feel like shit. Why? She also couldn’t stop the anger that still flooded her every time she looked at him.

“Maggie,” Valerie said.

“No, it’s all right, Valerie.” Her father patted Valerie’s arm. “Maggie’s right. I was a horrible father, a horrible person. Maggie is right to be skeptical of my recovery. Some days I am, too.”

Maggie stared at the aging man before her. What could she say? She had so much rage inside from the little girl he’d abused that all she wanted to do was punch him. And yet her heart ached for him at the same time. She ached to let herself love him, believe in him. Trust him.

Fool me once, she thought.

Her father turned toward Maggie, his dark eyes staring straight through her. “I’m sorry, Maggie.” His voice broke. “It’s all I can say. I was a sick man. Still am.” They sat in long silence despite the noise of the dining room around them. “Have you read any of my letters?”

She glared at her father. How dare he bring up the letters?

Maggie stood. “I have to talk to your doctor.”

Her father glanced up. “Okay,” he said softly and let her walk away.