“Mr. Bailey’s office. How can I help you?” The words snapped out. Crisp. Cold. The woman hadn’t cracked a smile in all the years Alisha had known her.
“Hello, Marilee. It’s Alisha. May I please speak with my father?”
“Alisha.”
No So good to hear from you, or How are you doing? but Alisha hadn’t expected more than polite distance. Efficiency was the name of the game, after all.
Marilee finally continued, “He’s in a meeting, but as soon as he’s done I’ll have him call you. Did you need me to arrange anything else? I haven’t received your response regarding flights for Thanksgiving.”
Drat. She’d been avoiding answering that particular e-mail as long as possible. “I’m afraid I still don’t know my schedule for early October yet. I’ll have a decision made within the week.”
“Very good.” In spite of the words, Marilee’s tone dripped with disapproval. It was hard to not laugh. Alisha knew very well which of them had Marilee’s loyalty—her or her father. “Thank you for calling.”
The loud click triggered images of the perfectly coiffured secretary slamming down the phone hard enough to crack the case flitted to mind. Not that anyone in Bailey Enterprises would ever act out of line, but it was fun to picture.
Alisha shoved her phone in her pocket and went to deal with her workout gear, double-checking that her emergency clothing stash was in place. If she was called on short notice to work a rescue, searching for socks was the last thing she wanted to waste time on.
In some areas being efficient was necessary, but her family took it to ridiculous extremes, especially outside the office doors.
Enough moping about her father, at least until he called. Alisha turned up the music and poked through the fridge, but nothing looked interesting. Nor the cupboards. She’d lost her appetite during the morning meeting, and it seemed there wasn’t much of a chance to get it back soon.
Coastal rescues? The advancement was a huge honour, and definitely something to celebrate, but would her family even register that the team had set another milestone?
Frustration flared again, this time at herself as much as them.
By now she should know better than to expect accolades, or even a brief hurrah. That the longing for approval still rose seemed cruel.
The phone rang and she checked the screen, almost hoping for a SAR call to pull her away from having to speak with him.
No such luck.
“Hello?”
“Your father will speak with you now.” Marilee put Alisha on hold to make the connection.
Because heaven help it if Mike Bailey had to wait on the line for a moment or two, even to talk with his own daughter.
“Alisha. It’s about time you made your Thanksgiving plans.” His soft-spoken tone hid his stubbornness. What he called willfulness when she displayed the same tenacity.
Well, she wasn’t ready to cave. “I’m not sure yet that a trip east will work with my schedule. I didn’t call about that, I called to find out if you’d been making donations to the Banff SAR school or Lifeline.”
“The corporation makes donations to all sorts of worthy causes, Alisha. I’d have to check the records—”
“Please do. I specifically asked you to stay out of my business here in Banff. I’d like to confirm you’re honouring that agreement.”
Her father’s sigh echoed through the speaker. “I promised not to interfere, and honestly, as far as I know, no, Bailey Enterprises has not made a donation to your old school or Lifeline. Even though I’d imagine they’d enjoy receiving one.”
“They probably would, only there are enough rich pockets to scoop into without diving into yours. I need this to be my—”
“Yes, Alisha. You want to do it on your own. Fine. You did. You’re now a climber and ski bum instead of part of the family business. It seems to make you happy, so good for you.”
The really sad thing, he wasn’t being sarcastic. Just out of touch and oblivious, as usual. “I am happy here. By the way, Lifeline is now the premier search-and-rescue team for all of western Canada.”
“It’s . . . fine. Good for you,” he repeated. Distraction blurred his voice.
Her father was no doubt simultaneously signing paperwork as Marilee placed it before him, unable to stop and listen to his only daughter for five minutes. He’d never allow himself to be that unfocused if she were a business contact with real important news.
“Yes, it is good. In fact, it’s incredible.” The idea of an expanded territory thrilled her and sent shivers down her spine at the same time. Wasn’t it enough to impress him? “I got a raise.”
He actually laughed, and bitter frustration rushed her as he stomped on her wishful dreams. “Well, now you can afford your fancy lifestyle, can’t you? Alisha, enjoy yourself. Get it all out of your system so when you come home next summer we don’t have to put up with more of your gallivanting.”
There was a point in every conversation with her father when Alisha’s blood pressure got too high to continue. This was five minutes past when she should have given up. “I don’t think I’ll make it home for Thanksgiving this year. Tell Mom I said hello, and I’ll e-mail her soon.”
Alisha didn’t wait for his farewell. Best-case scenario, he would offer platitudes in an attempt to smooth the conversation over. Worst case would be an attack, shaming her for her lack of feminine compliancy.
She paced through the tiny attic space, feet unwilling to stop, her furious energy needing some outlet of escape. She fidgeted with everything she passed as she walked in circles.
She wanted to scream. Wanted to throw things. Wanted to beat her body into submission with another workout, but that was unreasonable. It would be stupid to punish herself when her father was the one who should be apologizing.
Although the one positive from their discussion—ha! discussion—he didn’t seem to have tossed the money their direction. Not that she wanted Banff SAR to go without funding, but having her father dump money on them would only add to the pain of fighting for her position and standings. People found it hard enough to believe she’d achieved what she had on her own. If it were discovered that Daddy Dearest had poured money into the school coffers, even now after she was gone, all her accomplishments would be suspect. She could have the fastest times on the stopwatch and gossips would still believe she’d bought her way into the placements. And her current job.
Her job—a member of an elite, highly trained, kick-ass rescue squad. Thank you very much.
She growled her frustration at the walls. It was no use. She wasn’t going to be able to relax, not for a while.
A visit to Tim Hortons to nab an entire box of doughnuts was looking far too attractive. She needed a diversion. In spite of the clouds hanging low over the mountains, she grabbed her hiking boots and yanked them on. Maybe if she burned off a little steam, visions of using the toe of her boot to kick some sense into her father would stop dancing through her head.
She grabbed her emergency gear bag and trundled down the stairs to her car.
His curiosity got the better of him. There might be other ways to find out what he needed, but the first solution that came to mind was the simplest.
The sneakiest as well, but whatever.
Sneaky required Devon to wait until the rest of the team had left headquarters. Alisha was gone in a flash—again, atypical for her. The others poked around for a while. Chatting, teasing, and carrying on. Xavier flirted with the new part-time call-centre-worker-slash-receptionist before leaving with a shouted challenge at Tripp for darts that evening.