Читать книгу About That Man - Sherryl Woods, Sherryl Woods - Страница 7

T he whole town of Trinity Harbor–probably the whole state of Virginia–was buzzing like a swarm of bees, and whose fault was it? His daughter’s. Robert King Spencer slammed down the phone for what had to be the fifteenth time that morning and rued the day he’d ever bred such an ungrateful lot of kids.

Daisy, of all people, his beautiful, headstrong, but previously sensible thirty-year-old daughter, was stirring up gossip like a rebellious teenager. It was exasperating. No, King thought, it went beyond that. It was humiliating.

He had half a mind to go charging over to her place and put a stop to things before she tarnished the Spencer name with her shenanigans, but he’d learned his lesson on that score. A father interfered in his children’s lives at his own peril. Better to handle things from the sidelines, subtly.

King could all but hear the laughter of his family and friends at that. It was true, subtlety wasn’t exactly his style. Never had been, but for once he could see the value in using other people to do his dirty work. His sons, for instance.

Tucker and Bobby ought to be able to straighten out this mess. Tucker was the sheriff, for goodness’ sakes. Maybe he could wave that badge of his around and get Daisy to see reason.

King sighed. Not likely. Tucker took his duties seriously. He wasn’t likely to use his office to carry out his daddy’s personal wishes. And Bobby…well, Bobby was an enigma to him. No telling what he would do–probably the exact opposite of what King wanted.

That was the way it had been lately. Not one of his children paid a bit of attention to him, or to their Southern heritage. What kind of respect could a man expect in his golden years if his own children went around stirring up the kind of trouble Daisy had gotten herself into?

Respect was important to a man. King had always liked being a mover and shaker in Trinity Harbor. He figured he deserved it, since his very own ancestors had wandered over from Jamestown to start the town. That pretty much gave him the right to have his say about everything that went on, from raising Black Angus cattle or growing soybeans to politics. Most people actually listened. Being a Spencer in this town still meant something. Or it had until a few hours ago.

Nope, it was clear that Daisy didn’t give two hoots for tradition or bloodlines or any of the other things that made the South great. She was just hell-bent on getting her own way, no matter what it did to her daddy, her brothers or the family reputation.

It was her mother’s fault, of course. Mary Margaret–God rest her soul–was the one with the modern ideas. Let her shoulder the blame for Daisy’s behavior, even if she had been dead for twenty years. She should have done something–though he couldn’t say what–before she went and abandoned them all.

Since Mary Margaret wasn’t around to fix things, though, it was up to King to save Daisy from herself. He prided himself on being clever when clever was called for, and today certainly seemed to be one of those days. He had the headache to prove it.