Catching Cameron: A Love and Football Novel (33 page)

“He’ll see me. Please let him know I am here,” Cameron said.

The woman picked up her desk phone, dialed a number, and said, “There’s a woman here who claims to be Mr. Ondine’s daughter. She’d like to see him.” Cameron wondered if her father knew how rude his receptionist was. Maybe he didn’t care.

The woman nodded several times, hung the phone up, and said to Cameron. “I’m sorry. He’s not available today. You’ll need to make an appointment and come back another time.”

“I flew in here specifically to talk with him,” Cameron said. She pulled out her iPhone and dialed her father’s number.

“Ondine,” he barked three rings later. She hit the speaker phone function for the hell of it.

“This is Cameron. I’m standing in your lobby. Your employees won’t let me talk to you.”

“You’re here?”

The receptionist turned pale. Cameron resisted the impulse to laugh out loud.

“Yes, I am. And it’s almost noon. Would you like to get some lunch?”

“Of course. I’ll be right out.” He ended the call.

Cameron put her phone back in her bag. Her father rounded the corner to the lobby two minutes later. He looked the same as he always did: He was tall; his dark hair was trimmed every three weeks; he was impeccably dressed in a handmade, tailored dark suit, and designer tie. He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at her.

He didn’t have to say a word. She knew what he was thinking:
What the hell is she doing here?

She could count the number of times she’d actually visited her father’s company on the fingers of one hand. His workplace was sacrosanct. Whatever it was, it would wait until he came home from Wall Street.

Her father was also followed by a frantic-looking female assistant.

“Mr. Ondine, what would you like me to do about your one o’clock?”

“Reschedule my appointments for the rest of the afternoon,” he said. The assistant was tapping away on her iPad. “I’m available on cell phone for emergencies.” Her father thought any financial news constituted an “emergency,” so it might be an interesting lunch.

To Cameron’s surprise he reached out to give her an awkward hug. He wasn’t a big fan of public displays of affection, either. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well.

“If you would have told me you wanted to visit, I would have sent the jet, Cameron.”

“That’s really nice of you. The flight here wasn’t too bad.”

He didn’t roll his eyes. Maybe it was trained out of him at Amherst. He gave a nod. “Shall we?”

She turned to look back at the receptionist. “Thank you so much for your help,” she said. The woman stared at her.

“How are you, Dad?” Cameron asked as they waited in front of the elevator banks.

“I’m fine. Your mother has a slight cold, though. Will you stay for dinner? She’d like to see you.”

“I’d like to see her too, Dad, but my flight back to Seattle is at seven pm tonight.”

He held the door so she could step onto the elevator.

“I’ll call my pilot and ask if he can take you home this evening. You can avoid the two-hours-in-advance check-in at the airport.”

“It might be an inconvenience for him—”

“Cameron, let me take care of this for you.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapped in a text, and waited for a response as the elevator descended. “Your mother will ask the chef for an early dinner. My pilot will have the jet ready at seven PM our time, which should get you back to Seattle at nine PM their time. Will that work?”

“Of course, Dad. Thank you.” If the flight was on time, she’d manage to make it back to the dorm before lights out, too.

The elevator stopped in the lobby, and they walked outside. Her father held out his arm for her to take. “Where would you like to eat?”

“I know you have your favorites,” Cameron said. “How about something a bit more casual?”

“What did you have in mind?”

She nodded at the food truck parked on the curb, one block down. “Greek food sounds good.”

Her father was not a casual kind of guy. He preferred restaurants, specifically expensive, exclusive ones. He especially liked restaurants which provided a private room to conduct business in. She was willing to bet he’d asked his assistant to make a reservation at PJ Clarke’s Sidecar before he came out to the front desk to meet her, but he didn’t say so. He gave her another nod. “My assistant says their food is very good. Shall we try it?”

“We can take our lunch to the park and visit while we eat,” Cameron said.

Twenty minutes later, she was fairly convinced that her father’s body had been taken over by pod people. He ordered from a food truck like he’d been doing it his entire life. He asked the older gentleman dishing up their lunch if he could possibly double-wrap their food and drinks so they would make it to the park without incident. Cameron scrabbled in her bag for cash. Her father handed the guy a hundred-dollar bill and said, “Keep the change.”

She’d never heard her father use the words “Keep the change” in her entire life. When the man and wife operating the cart thanked him, he smiled and said, “It’s a special day. I’m having lunch with my daughter.” He graciously accepted the small bag of baklava the woman pressed on them in response.

They made their way across the street to Central Park and managed to find an empty park bench, which was a miracle of some kind as well. It was possible her dad’s security detail had been sitting on the bench ten seconds before they walked up to it, but she wasn’t going to think about that today.

Maybe she’d hit her head on the overhead bin on the commercial jet or something. Maybe she was hallucinating. She waited for her father to do something rude, selfish, or thoughtless; it wasn’t happening.

“I know you didn’t fly twenty-five hundred miles to visit a food truck with me,” he said.

“We might have to go to one more often,” she said. She took a bite of excellent Greek salad. “Do you like your gyro?”

“Yes. It’s very good,” he said. She handed him another napkin to protect his tie from yogurt sauce.

“So, Dad, I’m not sure how to start this, so here goes.”

She took a huge lungful of air. Her palms were sweaty. Her dad wasn’t a yeller. He’d managed to keep her in line over the years with much more subtle and effective strategies, like disapproving of most of her life choices and asking why she’d earned a master’s in art and antiquities if she had no intention of using her education. It was easier to give in to her parents’ pressure as far as a major, but she knew she wanted to work in broadcasting from her teenage years, especially sports broadcasting. She’d learned a few things during afternoons spent running around a lacrosse field or on the intramural basketball court: There were stories in every antique, but the stories of athletes—amateur to professional, and their struggles and triumphs—were the ones that captivated her most.

She knew most people had challenges with their parents as they were growing up. She and her father didn’t have the shared history of laughter and fun in her childhood to buffer the frustration and anger at their disagreements in later years, though. She knew he loved her, but she would have liked to make a snowman with him on Christmas Day instead of getting a notice from his lawyers that he had added funds to her annuity.

“I appreciate the fact that you took time out of your schedule to come to Seattle and check on my safety. I know you wanted to make sure I was okay, and I appreciate that, too.” She put her container of salad down on the bench between them and turned to face him. “Dad, I’m pretty angry with you for what you said to Zach when you saw him. Maybe we should also discuss what you did to Zach and his family when he and I were married ten years ago. You weren’t truthful with me for a long time, and I’m unhappy about that as well.” She let out a breath. “I know that you detest Zach, but I am in love with him. If you and Mom would give him a chance, you might like—”

Her father half-turned to face her, too. “Eugene is a much better match for you, Cameron.”

“No, he’s not. He’s a social climber who would make me miserable. I don’t want that life, and Eugene and I have nothing in common.”

“Yes, you do. His family is similar to ours. You both went to the finest schools and know a lot of the same people. Eugene has the net worth to take care of you and the children you’ll have together. He wants your family to continue our path of philanthropy as well.”

“Path of philanthropy”? It was more like charitable donations as a tax write-off and to make others think her parents were generous, but she had bigger points she’d like to make with him first.

“Dad, this isn’t the British regency, and I don’t want my future to feature a mission statement. I have my own money. I can take care of myself.”

“Eugene will fit into our lives. Zach Anderson won’t.”

“Dad, again: You don’t even know Zach. You can’t say whether or not he will fit into our lives. What if I want to fit into his?” She concentrated on keeping her voice down. The park was full of people on the beautiful August afternoon. “Why do you hate him so much?”

Her father’s expression froze into a polite mask. “I don’t hate him, Cameron. I don’t hate anyone.” He picked up his gyro and took another bite.

“You say that, but you tried to destroy him and his family ten years ago. You filed a restraining order against him? Maybe you could explain to me how in the world you got a judge to sign off on that in the first place, too. You threatened Zach again when you saw him at the Sharks’ training camp. Why?”

Her father concentrated on smoothing out the paper bag they’d received their food in and using it as a placemat for his gyro.

“Cameron, all I have ever wanted for you was the best in everything. Women still derive most of their happiness from a husband and a family. I knew you wanted a career when you were younger, so we steered you into the arts and antiquities major. You could have that career without sacrificing your home life to do so. If you marry Eugene, you’ll stay on the East Coast, which your mother and I believe is best for you as well. You’d be close to your family, close to your in-laws, and there are more career options here.” He took a sip of the iced tea he’d ordered. “It’s the best decision for your future. Look how happy Paige is.”

“Dad, I’m not Paige.” Cameron loved her sister, but she’d lose her mind going to Fashion Week, Mommy and Me yoga classes, and three-hour lunches. “I’m never going to be Paige. Will you still love me if I make a different choice?”

“That’s ridiculous,” he snapped.

She waited for him to say he would love her anyhow, but he didn’t. She knew she was expecting a lot from a man who was obviously trying to understand her, but just once she’d like to hear him say the words.

“Will you come to my wedding if Zach and I get married again?”

The question hung in the air between them for a seemingly endless minute.

“Why, do you want to remarry him?” he asked.

The Greek salad tasted like the best thing she’d ever eaten in her life, but she put the container down in her lap again. “I’m in love with him. I know we’d be happy together.”

“He can’t offer you what Eugene can.”

She looked into her father’s eyes. “Zach offers me more than I could ever explain to you.”

She heard her father’s phone ringing in his suit pocket. He ignored it. She almost fell off the park bench in astonishment when the call went to voicemail.

“Try me,” he said.

“Dad, Zach has some money of his own, but he doesn’t use it to exclude other people. He enjoys things like playing with his dog in his backyard and going on a picnic or a bike ride. Simple things. He’s getting a job when his NFL career is over, for instance. I’ve spent time with his family. They’re good, hardworking people. If all of Zach’s money went away tomorrow morning, they might have to move to a smaller place, but they would still be happy. He also says he’s forgiven you for the things you did to him and his family ten years ago, which stuns me. I’m not sure I’d be able to do so.” She hauled in a breath. Her father pressed his lips together so hard they formed a bloodless slash in his face. “You and Mom have done everything for me. I don’t want you to think I am ungrateful for all the things and experiences you’ve showered on me, but what Zach offers is something I really want. I love my job, I love New York City, but I want to come home to someone who loves me no matter what I do for a living.”

“What exactly does he offer, besides an inexpensive lifestyle and limited career choices?”

She almost rolled her eyes, but she knew the only way to get through this conversation was to remain calm and focused. “A family. I can be myself with him,” she said.

“Do you think that we don’t love you, too?”

“Dad, it’s not that you, Mom, and Paige mean less to me. It’s—I can live without a lot of other things, but I can’t live without him.”

“You’ll miss New York City. What about this career you value so much? I’m guessing he doesn’t want to leave the Seattle area. If he loves you, maybe he should be willing to relocate.”

“Asking Zach to relocate isn’t going to happen,” she said. “It’s not fair to his family.”

“Why is it fair to
your
family?”

She flopped back against the bench in frustration. Her impatient, arrogant father was back. He wasn’t asking questions because he wanted her to think about what she was doing. He was bent on undermining her decisions. She needed to get things back on track and focus on what she came here to do: call a truce with him, but tell him she was making her own decisions from now on. He wasn’t going to give Zach or their relationship a chance until she grew the backbone to stand up to him, either.

“I love New York. I thought I’d live here the rest of my life. I value my career, but I can work somewhere else,” Cameron said.

“Not a national broadcasting job. Not in Seattle,” her dad said.

She let out the breath she was holding and gulped another.

“Dad, it’s not a concern right now.”

“It should be—”

She cut him off, just the way he’d cut her off a thousand times over the years. “I just resigned my job with PSN. I’m now at FOX Sports. They’re happy to allow me to tape my show in Seattle—I have it in writing already.”