Family Feud. Barbara Boswell
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bad. I don’t suppose you have a sister at home just like you? No?” Garrett shrugged. “Well, I hope you enjoy your retirement, Miss York. I’m sure it’s well earned, and if you’re ever in the vicinity of a Family Fun Inn, I want to offer you a discount to stay there as a personal friend of the McGrath family.”
He reached into the pocket of his sport coat and pulled out one of his business cards to hand to her. “Just show them this. Discount guaranteed.”
Miss York stared incredulously at the card.
“Miss York, if you’ll excuse us, I have a personal matter to discuss with Mr. McGrath,” Arthur Halford said in that cultured, well-modulated tone of his.
Miss York wordlessly withdrew. Garrett was heartened that she hadn’t ripped his card to shreds and flung the pieces into the trash can. Instead, she’d tucked it into the pocket of her suit coat as she’d closed the office door behind her.
Garrett smiled. He’d bet this entire Halford House deal that Miss York would take him up on the discount and stay in a Family Fun Inn. And she’d like it, too, especially the oh-so-affordable prices. Another convert would be made. His grin broadened. There was nothing he liked better than winning, be it an argument, a court fight, a business deal, or merely changing someone’s mind in his favor.
Which brought him back to this moment in time. It sounded ominously like Arthur Halford had changed his mind—but not in the McGraths’ favor. Garrett narrowed his eyes, straightened his shoulders and assumed his take-charge, take-over, high-testosterone stance.
Nobody backed out on a deal with the McGraths. This was war. “I want to know what’s suddenly gone sour with the deal, Art,” he said with all the conviviality of a rattlesnake.
The suave and seasoned Arthur Halford seemed to dissolve in front of Garrett’s very eyes. The older man sank down onto the forest green leather sofa, running a nervous hand through his thick silver hair. “My daughter!” he exclaimed miserably. “She’s back! That’s what’s gone sour with the deal.”
Garrett stared at him. “What does your daughter have to do with this? And where is she back from? Outer space? Prison?”
“California!” Halford practically wailed.
Garrett was genuinely nonplussed. “Excuse me, Art, but I don’t get it. You’re sitting here losing it because your daughter is back from California?”
“If you knew Shelby, you’d lose it, too,” Halford intoned glumly. He was using vernacular he’d never used before, but somehow it fit. “And when she learns that I’m selling Halford House...” His voice trailed off, as if the consequences were too dire to voice.
Garrett was suddenly back on sure ground. “She’s sentimental about the place, huh?” He sat down beside Halford. “Hey, let me talk to her. I have five younger sisters, I know something about explaining things to females. There might be a few tears but—”
“Tears? Ha! Shelby doesn’t cry! I don’t remember her ever crying, not even as an infant. She decides what she wants and she goes for it, and God help the person who tries to stand in her way. She has all the subtlety and tact of a nuclear missile.” Arthur Halford shook his head. “She’s as different from our Laney as a...a jackal is from a winsome little Yorkshire terrier. Laney has two, you know. Yorkies. She adores them.” A fond, paternal smile momentarily brightened his face.
Garrett studied him curiously. He’d heard people compared to explosives—he’d even used the ticking-time-bomb reference himself—but he had never before heard a father describe his daughter as a jackal. In fact, as angry as Garrett had sometimes gotten at his younger sisters—and they could rile him plenty—he had never thought of them as jackals. Brats, maybe. Pests, perhaps. But nothing bestial.
He tried to get a mental picture of Shelby Halford but the only image that flashed to mind was one of snarling, sharp teeth and wild, beady eyes. Still, a deal was a deal, and he wanted the challenge and the prestige of adding a place like Halford House to the Family Fun Inn company. It would be the crown jewel in the rock-bottom budget chain, and he wasn’t about to let some spoiled Halford brat ruin his plans. Even if she was a jackal.
Before he could speak, Arthur Halford rose to his feet and began to pace the floor of the office, clearly agitated. “Shelby has some hotel experience, you see. She majored in hotel management in college and has been working in California. For the past several years, our relationship has actually been quite excellent with us living on opposite sides of the country. But just last week she called to announce that she was moving back here to Florida.”
“To work in the family business,” Garrett concluded. “And you neglected to mention to her that you were selling Halford House.”
“You’ve got it in one,” said Halford gloomily. “You’ll remember that we agreed to keep the deal secret until the papers were signed and the press release issued. I’ve told no one but my wife. So when Shelby called...” He shook his head and groaned. “Shelby has a way of dominating conversations. Before I could get a word in edgewise, she’d already told me she had quit her job, given up her apartment, and scheduled the movers. She gave me her date of arrival here in Port Key and told me she was ready to begin working here with me—as a prelude to taking over Halford House when I retire.”
“And now she’s here and you still haven’t told her?”
Halford shook his head. “No, I still haven’t told her. I...need more time. I have attempted to set the stage and ease into the subject, however.”
“And how have you done that?” Garrett asked. Sophisticated, polished types like Halford interested him. He’d learned from experience that they were not pushovers, yet they did their back stabbing with such style. Garrett was the first to admit that he lacked deceptive subtlety; he was blunt, forceful and open. According to his mother, he’d been that way since he had first opened his eyes in the delivery room.
“I regret that my, er, explanation is a bit unorthodox.” Arthur Halford appeared acutely embarrassed. “And so very, very difficult to explain, Mr. McGrath.”
“This is going to be a good one,” Garrett guessed, enjoying the anticipation. “Come on, Art. Spill it. What have you told Neutron Shelby about Halford House?”
* * *
“It’s so wonderful to be home!” Shelby Halford exclaimed exuberantly, striding briskly through the lush gardens of the Halford House grounds. She nodded and smiled at some hotel guests who were enjoying a morning stroll along the meticulously maintained crushed gravel paths.
“Shelby, will you please slow down?” her younger sister Laney complained, half running to keep up with Shelby’s long-legged stride. “The puppies are exhausted.”
Shelby cast a disparaging eye at Laney’s pair of five-year-old overfed, overweight Yorkshire terriers, who were panting from the exertion of their walk. “If they had more exercise and a lot less food, a short walk wouldn’t wind them,” she noted. “You simply have to put those dogs on a diet, Laney. It’s for their own good. As it is, you’re feeding them into an early grave.”
“Stop it, Shelby!” Laney’s velvety dark eyes filled with tears. “You can be so cruel—threatening my puppies with death when you know they mean the world to me.” She turned to the tall, nattily dressed blond man who was walking slightly behind them. “Do you like animals, Paul?” she asked, dimpling prettily.
Paul gazed at her, seemingly mesmerized. His reaction surprised neither sister; people had been stopping dead in their tracks to stare at Laney Halford since she’d been a toddler. Paul had been gazing at her continuously since he’d arrived at Halford House last week.
Shelby viewed her sister more dispassionately. Laney was a classic beauty, a striking combination of Vivian Leigh in Gone With the Wind and Liz Taylor in Ivanhoe—except with enormous dark brown eyes. Everybody always said that Laney should be in movies, too, she was that beautiful. Laney always sweetly demurred;