Why were they playing that song at the fundraiser? It seemed like an odd choice of music for this event.
It took Callie a few seconds to realize she was dreaming and that the music she heard was her cell phone. Dragging herself off the couch, she retrieved the phone from the kitchen counter. Warren Sherbrooke’s name glared up at her from the phone’s screen. Sighing, she pressed the talk button.
“Callie, how are you feeling today? I was worried when Elizabeth said you left last night with a migraine.”
Callie had almost forgotten the excuse she’d given Elizabeth for leaving early.
“Better, thanks. Just a little tired,” Callie said, hoping she sounded more convincing to Warren than she did to herself.
“I had hoped to visit with you today, but when I called Dylan, he said you’d already gone home.”
She could hear the unasked question in her father’s voice. He was wondering why she’d bolted from the city so quickly. There was no way she was telling him the truth, so instead, she lied again.
“The earlier train was cheaper.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. The train she’d taken home had been fifty dollars cheaper than the one she had originally planned on taking this afternoon.
“I wanted to talk to you about this in person. Next week, I have an interview with Lindsay Phelps from NBC.” Warren began to explain, not commenting on her decision to take the earlier train. “I wanted to tell her about you, get everything out in the open, but I wanted to speak with you first. Are you okay with this?” Warren asked, his concern coming through the phone loud and clear. “If you’re not, that’s fine. I understand. We can wait.”
This was exactly what Dylan and Marty Phillips had been trying to prevent. The logical part of her mind screamed that making any major decisions now while upset was a mistake. She ignored it. Pissed at the two men for trying to manipulate her, she made up her mind in a split second.
“I’m okay with you doing that.”
“Why don’t you join me? The interview is being done in New York. I can make arrangements for you to stay at one of the Sherbrooke hotels in the city.”
Letting Warren tell the reporter he had a previously unknown daughter was one thing. Being present for the interview was something else entirely.
“I’m not sure I could handle that. It’s probably better if I stay home and let you handle it.” Callie had no desire to be on television.
Warren didn’t respond at first. Callie couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking, but eventually, he said, “If you change your mind, let me know. I would like to have you with me for that part of the interview.”
“If I do, I’ll call you,” Callie replied, although she knew there was no way she would change her mind on this one.
Right after she ended the call with Warren, Callie pulled up her Uncle Dan’s number in her contact list. Her uncle and Aunt Melinda deserved to hear the truth about her father from her, not some interview on television.
The phone rang twice before her uncle answered. “Callie, your aunt and I were just talking about you. Have you changed your mind about staying with us for a few weeks this summer?”
“No, sorry, Uncle Dan, that’s not why I’m calling.” She wished her mom had sent a letter to her uncle too.
“Is everything okay?”
In all the ways that counted, Uncle Dan had acted as her father. He’d taken her to father daughter dances and played baseball with her whenever she visited. When he’d taught his daughter, Rachel, to ride a bike, he’d taught her too. Whenever he took Rachel hiking, he took her as well. If Uncle Dan took his family camping, he invited her along. He’d even helped teach her to drive.
“It’s about Mom and my father. I know he didn’t die in a car accident.”
Silence filled the phone line, and then her uncle cleared his throat. “I always told Ruth that she should at least be honest with you. She never wanted to tell any of us who your father was, but I thought you had the right to know.”
“Uncle Dan, Warren Sherbrooke, the senator, is my father.”
Again, her uncle didn’t speak for several seconds.
“Are you okay?” Callie asked.
“I knew they were friends for a long time. I didn’t know it was ever anything more.” Her uncle didn’t sound as surprised as she’d been when she learned the truth.
“There’s more.” Callie ran a hand down Lucky’s back. “He has an interview coming up and he’s going to tell the reporter about me.” Part of her would love to see the expressions on Marty and Dylan’s faces when Warren told them of his plan.
“I take it you’ve met with him. How has he been toward you?”
“I’ve seen him a few times, and he’s been very nice.” She had no complaints with her father or his behavior. She couldn’t say the same about his stepson or campaign advisor. That information, though, her uncle didn’t need to know.
“If you have the time, I’d like to hear the whole story.”
He uncle deserved to know as much as she did. “Before Mom died, she gave Helen a letter to mail,” Callie said starting the tale at the most logical spot.