Not rage.
Worse.
Disappointment sharpened into something very deliberate.
“Morning, sweetheart.”
Vanessa inhaled so hard the sound came through the speaker.
“You’re alive.”
“Apparently.”
“Why are you at Natalie’s house?”
Dad pulled out the chair beside me and sat down again.
He reached for his coffee.
“Why are you telling people I’m dead?”
Vanessa recovered faster than I expected.
“We weren’t telling people. I was trying to reach Natalie.”
“You told her Harold found me.”
A pause.
“Dad, listen—”
“And you said you found my papers.”
Another pause.
Grant’s voice appeared faintly in the background.
“Hang up.”
Dad heard it.
“So Grant’s there too.”
Nobody answered.
Dad took a sip of coffee.
“Excellent. Saves time.”
Vanessa’s tone changed.
The grief vanished.
So did the authority.
Now she sounded irritated.
“Dad, there’s been a misunderstanding.”
He gave a low laugh.
“Those usually happen when somebody gets a date wrong or forgets a dinner reservation.”
