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Suddenly, I don’t want to tell her about the letter that Cait gave me, but I can’t withhold it from her. “Cait said this came for you,” I tell her reluctantly, handing it to her.
She looks at it, and her smile fades. I wonder whether she’s going to go pale and feel faint again, but to my surprise, anger flares in her eyes, and she takes the letter in both hands, tears it down the middle, and throws it in the bin.
I lean on the table as she turns back. “You want to tell me what that was about?”
“Not really.” She glares at the bin. “It’s written by someone I don’t want to hear from.”
“Not an ex, though?” She told me it wasn’t from Ian, and she’s also revealed that he has been her only boyfriend.
She shakes her head. Then, still looking at the bin, she admits, “It’s from my father.”
That makes my eyebrows shoot up. I’ve heard her talk about her mum and her sister, and I know they moved to Wellington from the South Island when Hallie was eight. But she’s never mentioned her father.
“Are he and your mum still together?”
She shakes her head. “They divorced when I was young.”
“Is he still in the South Island?”
“No. He’s in Wellington. He wants to see me. But I don’t want to see him.”
“Can I ask why?”
Her spine is stiff. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
She obviously hasn’t been in contact with him for a while. I wonder why? What happened back when she was eight? It enters my head that maybe he abused one or both of the girls,either physically or sexually. Maybe that’s why her mum moved away and took the girls with her. That would explain why she’s so angry, and why she was so upset to hear from him out of the blue.
But I have no right to push her to tell me. I don’t want to upset her or for her to be angry with me, so I decide to let it drop.
“I came to tell you that Louise has booked a flight for two p.m. tomorrow,” I tell her.
“Tomorrow?” She looks surprised. “I thought the ball was on Wednesday.”
“It is, but the Bay of Plenty Archaeology Group has been asking me to do a talk for months, and Louise thought I could combine the trip with a short presentation. If it’s okay with you? I should have checked with you first.”
“No, that’s fine, I don’t have anything planned.”
“So we’ll be staying two nights in a hotel,” I inform her.
“Okay,” she says. Her eyes meet mine, holding a touch of mischief. “Separate rooms, I’m guessing.”
My lips curve up. “Yes…”
She chuckles and returns to her sketching.
I sigh silently. I’ve got two whole days alone with her. Man, I do like to torture myself.
She glances up at me. “You okay?” she asks with concern. “You seem a bit… flat. Did your meeting not go well this morning?”
“It was depressing,” I reply. “We’ve exhausted our list of grants, and now it’s all about going on our knees to individuals and hoping they’ll find it in their hearts to be a benefactor.”
“That’s what you’re good at,” she says wryly. “Talking people into stuff.”
“It’s not a great skill,” I mumble, scratching at a mark on the table. “Makes me sound sleazy.”
“It is a great skill, and you’re the reason the museum is flourishing,” she scolds. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’ve had a tough few weeks, but you need to pick yourself up, dust yourself down, and get back in the saddle.”
God, I love the way she scolds me.