Helen had become more and more tense as he spoke, turning slowly now to look at her father, sure from his innocent expression—and his friendship with Caleb Jones—that he had known of the vacancy long before now.
And that too-innocent expression gave her a deep feeling of unease.
Surely her father hadn’t expected her to be interested in applying for the job!
‘YOU can’t have been serious, Daddy,’ Helen complained incredulously.
Dinner was long over, Caleb Jones had taken his leave a short time ago, and the two of them were enjoying a cup of coffee before going to bed.
Helen had lost her equilibrium somewhat after she had realised her father had seriously contemplated the idea of her working for Caleb Jones.
At the time she had passed the moment off with a flippant comment about liking her job in London, but she had known from her father’s expression that he intended to pursue the subject once they were alone. Helen had decided that attack was the better form of defence!
Her father didn’t appear in the least perturbed. ‘It’s an ideal step up the ladder for someone in your position,’ he reasoned lightly.
‘It’s a leap,’ she acknowledged self-derisively.
‘Well, then——’
‘Too much of a leap, Daddy,’ she derided.
‘I’m sure Cal would——’
‘I certainly don’t want any favouritism from him, thank you,’ she snapped.
Her father looked annoyed by her outburst. ‘I wasn’t talking about favouritism, damn it——’
‘Then what else would you call it?’ she challenged, her cheeks red.
He drew in a controlling breath. ‘Cal would merely consider your application as fairly as any others he receives.’
‘I don’t want to be “considered”——’
‘I wish you would forget your prejudice of the man, and think what a really good opportunity it would be for you to work for him——’
‘I don’t want to work for him!’ she cut in exasperatedly. ‘I find the man totally obnoxious, and on top of that I question his ethics.’
‘Helen!’
She had gone too far with her last remark as far as her father was concerned, she could see that, and yet it wasn’t just Caleb Jones’s underhand dealings over Cherry Trees that bothered her about the man; she still didn’t know enough about him professionally to trust him completely in that area either.
‘The City is suspiciously quiet about him,’ she insisted. ‘I would need to know a lot more about him than I do now before I would even consider working for him.’
‘Don’t let one bad experience sour you, Helen,’ her father advised softly.
Colour warmed her cheeks at this gentle reminder of her youthful folly.
She had been extremely vulnerable when she’d first moved to London, had kept herself very much to herself during those first few years, so that by the time she’d taken up her position as a junior accountant in one of the larger firms she had been ripe for the attentions of a more senior accountant with the company.
It had taken her several months to realise that, while Daniel’s personal investments weren’t exactly illegal, they were at the very least unorthodox. And she had only found that out because by this time he had believed them to be close enough for her to be taken partly into his confidence, to suggest that she might like to supplement her own income in the same way.
It had been the end of what she had believed to be a promising relationship, and also the last time she had dated anyone in her own profession. The last time she had dated anyone at all, her father would have accused, but that wasn’t strictly accurate; she did occasionally go out to dinner or the theatre if she met anyone she thought might be interesting to spend an evening with. But she had to admit those times were few and far between, and she rarely repeated the experience.
‘I haven’t, Daddy,’ she assured him softly. ‘I just find more satisfaction from my career than I do in a relationship with a man.’
‘That’s simply because you haven’t met the right man yet,’ he insisted.
‘And have no interest in doing so for some time. If ever!’
‘Then you should at least be interested in this position with Cal,’ he reasoned.
Professionally she knew that she should, that she was, but personally she knew she would never be able to work for Caleb Jones. And besides, she hadn’t just been making excuses when she’d said it was too big a leap for her professionally; Caleb Jones would need a very senior accountant indeed to handle the job he was talking of.
‘It would have meant you could move back here,’ her father put in pointedly.
And he would have no reason to sell Cherry Trees; she had already realised that. But she knew, even if her father didn’t, that that had to be the last thing Caleb Jones wanted. Which meant her chances of getting the job were nil before she even started. She wouldn’t humiliate herself by even trying!
‘I enjoy my work in London, Daddy,’ she told him firmly. ‘I have no intention of leaving it.’
‘I see,’ he said flatly.
Helen sighed. ‘No, you don’t, but then you don’t want to.’
‘I just want——Oh, never mind what I want,’ he dismissed irritably. ‘I can see I’m just wasting my breath.’
‘Playing the martyr doesn’t suit you, Daddy,’ she told him drily.
An unaccustomed flash of anger darkened his eyes. ‘You are the most stubborn, annoying—I can’t believe you’re a child of mine!’
She chuckled as she stood up. ‘Strange—everyone, including you, has always said I’m exactly like you.’
He gave her a glowering look. ‘Don’t be so damned facetious!’
She grinned at him, her eyes glowing deeply green in her amusement. ‘And I’m too old for that to work any more either!’
‘More’s the pity,’ he mumbled, disgruntled.
Helen gave a leisurely stretch. ‘Why don’t we talk about all this again in the morning? It’s been a long day and it’s late.’
‘And nothing will have changed by tomorrow,’ he said ruefully. ‘But I see your point about the time.’ He stood up with a sigh. ‘I’m feeling a little tired myself.’
In truth he did look slightly strained; he had lines about his eyes and mouth that she hadn’t noticed earlier. Could it be that her father was finally beginning to show his years? Or was it something more than that? She felt pangs of guilt for not noticing the subtle changes earlier. And were they changes that Caleb Jones had seen and recognised? If they were he was being doubly underhand!
She looked at her father with concern. ‘Are you feeling all right, Daddy?’
His ready smile erased the lines of strain, making Helen wonder if she could have merely imagined they were there at all. Her father was probably just tired after all.
‘Never felt better,’ he assured her. ‘I always feel more cheerful when you come home for the weekend.’
‘Daddy!’ she reproved