Golden Lies - Barbara Freethy [95]
"Just what are you accusing my grandfather of doing? Stealing from Hathaway's?" he demanded, protective fire in his eyes now.
"I didn't say that."
"Yes, you did. I knew you'd go down that road, Paige. It just came a little sooner than I thought."
"What came sooner?"
"The choice between your family and mine."
"I'm not making a choice; I'm just pointing out some things."
He jumped to his feet, obviously angry.
"Riley, wait. Don't go."
He paused at the door, his blue eyes as cold as steel when he looked at her. "Why not?"
"Because we're not done."
"I think we are. You've already decided—"
"I haven't decided anything." She got to her feet and walked over to him. "I just said what came to my mind. I'm sorry. I thought we were past the point of having to pick and choose our words. I thought we were friends."
"How could we ever be friends?" he asked, as if that would be totally impossible.
"We can be friends if we're honest with each other."
"My grandfather wouldn't have stolen a statue from your store. He wasn't that kind of man. He was honest to a fault. He set the standards of behavior for me. He taught me what was right and what was wrong."
In other words, Riley couldn't bear to believe his grandfather wasn't perfect. She understood that. Too many people had hurt this man with their actions; he couldn't afford another disappointment,
"Okay," she said evenly. "Then there must be another reason why your grandfather had the statue. Don't make me the enemy, Riley, because I'm not. I'm your partner. Now, what do you say to starting this conversation over?"
He hesitated, then let out a long sigh. "Fine."
"You can finish your beer. I'll drink my diet Coke. And we'll both take a deep breath."
Riley sat back down at the table and picked up his beer. "I'm sorry if I jumped on you, but my grandfather was a good man, Paige. He ran into a lot of prejudice when he was young. He used to tell me that when he was a teenager, the Irish in San Francisco were considered second-class citizens, thieves and robbers. It made him very determined to live the kind of life he could be proud of. I won't let his reputation be smeared at this late date."
"I understand. And I was just talking off the top of my head. From here on out, let's try not to point any fingers unless we have hard proof. Deal?"
"Deal." Riley ran his finger around the edge of his glass beer mug.
"What was your grandfather like before he got sick?" she asked curiously.
"Typical Irishman. He liked his drink, his food, his wife, his stories. He wasn't wild, though. He had all these rules for himself."
"Like what?"
"Like no more than two drinks before dinner. No dancing with anyone other than his wife. No stories that made fun of women. No laughing in church." He smiled to himself as if he were lost in a fond memory. "That was a tough one, though. Father O'Brien used to fall asleep during the readings and snored so loud he could have woken the dead. My grandfather and I could barely get through those moments without a laugh." Riley took another drink. "For the most part his rules worked for him. He said they kept him out of trouble."
"He sounds like a good man."
"He is—or he was. He's not the same now. I must admit I've wondered where he got that statue, but if anyone stole it from somewhere, it was my mother, not my grandfather."
"Or maybe it wasn't stolen at all," she said soothingly. "We really don't know. It is odd though, isn't it—this connection between us, between our grandfathers."
"So, did your grandfather have anything else of importance to say?"
"Not about the statue. We did talk about my position at Hathaway's. He shocked the hell out of me by telling me that I can take control at any time. I just have to stand up and do it. I'm not quite sure how that's supposed to happen since I have no title, no real power."
"Do you want to take control of the store?"
"I think so," she said slowly. "I've been raised to believe it's my destiny. Everything I've done has been to that end. I've never worked anywhere