See Me

By Michele Arris

She believes in family…

Ever since Kennedi Chase was a little girl, she dreamed of one day owning her mother's bakery boutique, Chase Confections. Now that she does, she’ll do everything she can to keep it running. When a hotshot businessman—emphasis on hot—threatens everything she holds dear, Kennedi bakes up an unconventional plan to protect her family legacy.

He believes in himself…

Real estate developer Trenton Shaw will do anything to succeed. After a bitter divorce, he’s poured his heart and soul into achieving his professional goals. A new parking garage on the Washington D.C. Wharf is essential to his casino. He won’t let a cake baker get in his way, no matter how gorgeous, tenacious, and irresistibly charming she seems to be.

There’s no denying the sizzling attraction as professional entanglements become highly personal. But when Trenton discovers Kennedi's secret, she’s forced into a desperate choice. Should she protect her family or her heart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tule Publishing
• Release date: May 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781952560460

Michele Arris

Michele Arris lives in the Northeast. When she isn’t writing, she likes to watch period classics or simply relax in her hammock and enjoy the sunset. Find Michele Arris at MicheleArris.com, on Facebook at Facebook.com/Michele-Arris-Author, and on Twitter @ArrisMichele.

Book preview

Author’s Note

Though inspired by places I’ve traveled, please note that some events and locations mention in this book are fictional and are meant solely for you to escape and enjoy.

Chapter One

Standing before the rich mahogany doors of the Belle Haven Country Club, Kennedi handed her invitation to the waiting security attendant, who studied it, then her, and then the electronic pad in his hand. Hard lines creased between his sparse blond brows.

Kennedi Chase of Chase Confections, she said while stealing a glance at the invite list.

You’re not on here. The severely chewed nail tip of an index finger scrolled down the list of names. Wait. His head sprang up. I have a Mr. K. Avery Chase.

I’m pretty sure that’s me. She retrieved her driver’s license from her black beaded clutch and flipped it before him. Kennedi Avery Chase. His brow crinkled again. Typical reaction when one associated the name with a woman. Her father’s namesake, she wore the name with pride.

Got it. He pulled open the door then hurried on to the people fast approaching behind her.

Entering the stately clubhouse, she took in the well-preserved architecture of original wide-plank, dark oak polished floors, detailed moldings and millwork, hand-blown glass fixtures, intricate ceiling murals and well-worked leather-cushioned seating. The nineteen forties elements paired well with the modern renovations.

She looked around at those milling about the lounge elegantly clad in suits, fashionable gowns, and sparkly cocktail dresses. I should’ve worn black. The shimmery red dress hugging her slight curves stood out like a flaming beacon. And the added bronzer she’d applied on her toffee-brown skin, that practically glowed, didn’t help. A subtle tug at the bodice confidently confirmed that the double-sided tape securing her boobs behind the slippery satin held firm. She thought of it all as apprehension started to coil a knot in her belly. Having come this far, there was no sense in chickening out now.

Okay, Kennedi, you can do this.

Taking a fueling breath, she made her way to the packed banquet hall and scanned the room for her intended target in between small chitchat with a few familiar faces. Catching movement out of her peripheral view, she turned her head, and there her enemy stood, appearing in deep conversation with two other men. Trenton Shaw. As if on cue, steel-blue eyes slid her way. The internet had his age at thirty—that worked in her favor. His online pics suggested he was tall—six two. Maybe even six three. She was just under five nine herself. Her stilettos would bring her just shy of eye level with him—another advantage. His golden tanned features made her wonder if he tended to darken even more after the East Coast heat of summer bore down on him for three months.

You catch more flies with sugar than vinegar. She forced a smile at the admittedly handsome figure dressed in an impeccably fitted, light pinstripe gray suit, his hands in the front pockets of neatly draped slacks. He subtly inclined his head in greeting yet refused to break the tether of their shared gaze. That stare of his held unwavering as he pulled his phone from his right front pants pocket, gave a few taps upon it and stepped away.

Getting a light bump from behind, she turned and accepted an apology from the woman who’d caused the minor infraction and who did well in not spilling her three filled champagne glasses while squeezing a purse underneath an armpit. Kennedi turned back. The two other men remained in place, heads angled close, gabbing away. She searched the crowd. As if a mere specter, Trenton Shaw had all but disappeared.

Damn it. Now that he’d poked his head out of his bat cave, she couldn’t allow him to escape her.

After ambling about, just when she’d settled on calling the night a fail, there Shaw stood at the rear by the buffet table with his cell phone still glued to his ear and his back to the crowd. She took note of the big, burly, bald guy dressed in all black standing near Shaw. Trenton Shaw’s personal security kept a comfortable distance, yet the guard’s alert blue eyes seemed to take in the entire room.

Unlike those smart enough not to disturb Shaw’s protective bubble, she approached and came up alongside him. He lifted his gaze to hers, delivering a long look, while not skipping a beat in his dialogue of quarterly projections and cost estimates to the party on the line. Kennedi turned away from his probing steely blues and heard him say, I’ll call you back.

Chapter Two

"The lady in red. Good evening."

Evening, Trent. He came in a bit closer. The scent of his cologne, a clean woodsy citrus, pleasantly filled Kennedi’s nostrils. Are you enjoying your party?

His gaze slowly skated down to the severe vee cutout of her dress, paused through several heartbeats at the swells of her exposed breasts and then moved back up. I am now. The lady in red has my attention. The night is looking up. You know my name. I’d like to know yours.

Kennedi turned away from his scrutiny to the buffet assortment. We’re your guests. Shouldn’t you know who’s on the invite list? A flicker of reproach stirred in her tone. She told herself to dial it back.

I may be the guest of honor, but I’m a guest nonetheless. He fanned a hand at the horde of people. These are local business owners, politicians and the Who’s Who of D.C. I’m acquainted with maybe a handful at best. As Shaw Hotel and Casino breathes life into the Wharf, I hope to do business with many of them. Where do you fall on that list?

Not quite ready to answer that question, she concentrated on the table assortment, thinking how much more appealing the desserts would’ve been had Chase Confections catered it. A carefully arranged fruit platter held some promise. That looks interesting to— She paused at seeing his pinched expression in objection. What?

Cantaloupe wrapped in bacon? Seriously, why?

It’s honey-glazed pancetta. She laughed lightly, unable to help it, at the sight of his lips curling in disgust. Okay, it’s fruit tucked in fancy bacon. Try it.

God no. That disgusting fruit should be banned.

Not into trying new things, Mr. Shaw? What fun is life if we don’t experiment a little?

His dark eyebrow lifted. I’m all about trying something new. What do you have in mind?

At that light invitation, she plated a bite-sized piece, forked half and ate it. Salty-sweet. Not bad.

Are you describing yourself or the food?

The slight flirty undertone made her pause. She hadn’t expected it would be this easy. That depends on you, she offered in soft challenge.

He stuck the other half in his mouth. His features scrunched tight, he looked as if he might upchuck all over her French pedi but soon braved it, swallowing hard.

Wow, you weren’t kidding. You dislike cantaloupe that much, huh? His lip curved upward at the right corner, and damn if it didn’t make him look even sexier. Ugh. Kennedi, girl, get a grip. Remember who he is. Enemy number one. I think I found your Achilles’ heel, Mr. Shaw.

Not hardly. But seriously, that was about as awful as they come. I want to bite out my tongue.

Chuckling at the flinch he couldn’t mask, she stepped away, filled a glass with lemon water stationed at the end of the table and gave it to him. Eat a piece of pineapple. It’ll cleanse your palate.

Who are you, the Food Whisperer?

She shrugged a shoulder. Something like that, I suppose.

Taking several deep swallows of water followed by a couple chunks of the fruit, he cut a slight smile. That’s much better. I’d rather walk on hot coals than ingest that vileness again.

She laughed. So you do experiment. His attention slid to her black-strapped heels and he moistened his lips. She’d bet he was into all sorts of kink.

You’d be shocked to learn the things I like to do, he said and wore a definite grin of mischief as his stare lingered on her exposed toes then came up and locked with hers.

I have a pretty active imagination, Mr. Shaw. I think the surprise would be yours. And hers. She’d begun to perspire the second she’d crossed the threshold, completely out of her element here. Seduction wasn’t one of her strong suits.

They moved away from the table to get out of the vicinity of those seeking refreshments. When someone reached for the fruit-bacon combo, they looked at one another and laughed quietly.

Trenton accepted two glasses of red wine from a tray offered by a circling waiter and handed her one.

She took a sip, her eyes on his, and for a moment, once again, found herself lost in those steely blues. But she quickly regrouped. Trent, I—

What can I do to persuade you to tell me your name? he cut in. Perhaps we could discuss it more over dinner. For now, I’d settle for a dance. I like this song.

I don’t—

You don’t dance?

Yes, but, she looked around, no one’s dancing.

It’s just a dance…unless you need to get your boyfriend’s permission. He delivered a playful wiggle of dark eyebrows.

Is that your way of asking me if I have a boyfriend?

Precisely.

Boyfriend? What’s that? Twenty-eight and no prospects. Who has time for a relationship? No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

Good to know. His impish grin stretched wide. One dance won’t hurt anything. And you look much too beautiful in that dress to not stand center stage.

Without waiting for a reply, he took her glass and set it along with his on the table, then rested a palm at the low vee of the dress at her exposed spine, the tips of his fingers stealing a graze of her skin as he led her just to the edge of the dance floor. Large, formidable hands fitted easily to the curves of her hips and drew her in close. With her purse pressed against his back in one hand, she planted the other firmly on his shoulder, setting and dictating the distance between them.

Kennedi took a look around. Trust me, this outfit offers no obscurity. I think I’m the only one here in red.

You’ve made it my new favorite color.

She hooded her gaze just a touch and gave a slight, probing push. Is this the charming side of you, Trent?

Is it working? He coaxed her in a bit more, their hips making contact as the melodious tempo of Jai Wolf’s Like It’s Over had them falling into a natural rhythm.

Soon, others joined them, filling up the narrow parquet hardwood floor.

To think I almost didn’t show tonight. I would’ve missed out on something wonderful.

Kennedi regarded his smooth-shaven features and on up to eyes that appeared more gray than blue when the glimmer of chandelier crystals caught hold. And what might that be?

Cantaloupe-bacon cuisine. He smiled a wickedly beautiful smile, that amplified his easy good looks.

Laughter broke from her that couldn’t be contained as realization hit full force: she’d have to come up with another plan. I tell you what, if you guess the first letter in my name, I’ll tell you what it is…but you can’t just trail down the alphabet.

Okay. G for Ginger.

She drew back, brow raised. You think I look like a Ginger?

Hmm, you’re right. Not Ginger. More like C for Candy? He laughed with eyes dipping to her breasts. Just kidding.

Real funny. She grinned back at his cheerful countenance and was quite surprised by his jaunty demeanor as he lightly slipped a caressing hand up and down her bare back while trying out a few more names that didn’t stick.

The song ended, and she stepped out of his embrace. Trent, I’ve enjoyed your company much more than I should. I-I mean, you’re not what I’d expected.

I’ll take that as a compliment. He glanced out at the throng of bodies that were practically shoulder to shoulder. I’m pretty sure this room has exceeded capacity. I’ve been given a suite upstairs to conduct business. We could go there where it’s quiet and continue to get to know one another…that is, talk more, he supplemented.

I should go. Kennedi scratched her forehead, trying to figure out what to do. She’d sworn to move heaven and earth to try to sway him to her favor but now simply couldn’t go through with her plan of seduction, the only weapon she had left in her arsenal. Ugh. Pathetic. On an inward curse, she shook her head. I need to go.

Here’s my card, should you wish to take me up on that dinner invite. Until then, I’ll walk you out.

They proceeded toward the exit. The big, bald guy in black started to follow. Trenton stopped and turned. Elliott, I’m good. You can stay put. I’ll be back in a minute.

Security easily withdrew and they continued on, but several people stepped in their path, wanting to chat up Trenton. Kennedi left him to it. A few strides into the atrium, Trenton caught up to her with a latch of her wrist. A young couple sat at one of the café tables looking out onto the brightly lit plush green of the eighteenth fairway.

Please leave, Trenton said, his tone laced with authority. The pair took heed of his stern look and hastily slipped out. Turning back to her, he released a weighted breath. Now, why don’t you tell me your name.

What would be the point? It wouldn’t change anything. She pulled her wrist free from his grasp and took a step back, but he captured her around the waist and drew her in. His hand cuffed the nape of her neck, his hold light yet unyielding, fingers stroking. Caught off guard, she planted her hands on his chest but found she didn’t want to push him away. Trent, what are you doing?

I can get the names from the invite list and pay a visit to each person who came tonight until I find you. Or you could save me the trouble by simply telling me.

She couldn’t help leaning into the slow caress of his thumb that stroked along the smooth angle of her neck. Why is my name important to you?

His smile wide and white and wicked, he came in close, their lips a mere breath apart. That question feels almost like a test. Give the right answer and win not just your name but the key to it all. I’m not ashamed to say I wanted it all tonight. His voice dropped to a silky-smooth register that rumbled all the way down to her exposed toes. But say the wrong thing… He drew back just enough to meet her gaze. I’ve played enough hands to know when the deck isn’t stacked in my favor. So instead of your name, how about a parting kiss?

Kennedi blinked. A kiss. A peck.

Before she could give direction, he crushed his mouth to hers, rough and greedy, making it count. She tensed into a taut column. Her purse hit the floor as her palms came down hard on his shoulders, squeezing, but her resistance waned into a forgiving soft moan.

With fingers gripping the lapel of his suit coat, she let her lips slant over his, their tongues searching, tangling, hot, drugging. Each began tasting the other more slowly, shutting out everyone and everything, indulging in their stolen moment.

He pressed the hard planes of him against the softness of her and slipped a hand inside the back opening of her dress, skating upward. Clever fingers skimmed the side swell of her right bare breast, but he didn’t explore more than that as he licked into her mouth, his obvious lust on high.

Backing her up against the clear glass pane, his fingers on both hands sank into her thick curls and held her head firmly as he took his fill. Smooth lips brushed along her right cheek to her ear, his teeth delivering tiny nibbles along the way that had her swallowing another moan.

Let’s continue this in my suite, he whispered around the circling and flicking of his warm tongue at her lobe.

Her hard shove away was so sudden he stumbled a foot. Lipstick smeared his mouth. She caught short snatches of breath. I can’t do this. You shouldn’t—

Voices that grew louder upon approach had her jerking a step away. Staring at him through wide, unblinking eyes, breath hurried, she quickly swept fingers over her damp lips, further disturbing already ruined crimson, and he did the same just as a couple turned the corner and strode on past.

Alone with her once again, he took a step closer but respected her space. I shouldn’t have done that, he said.

No, you shouldn’t. I have to get out of here. Punch drunk full of anxiousness and confusion, she scooped up her purse before taking off with quick-heeled clips, crossing the club’s lounge and bursting out of the main entrance.

The slap of the early summer night’s breeze offered much-needed solace. The valet approached and she handed off her ticket, then paced the gray cobblestone, helplessness flickering behind the swiftly rising, searing bites of discontent.

I was out of line. Trenton came up behind her. Please accept my apology.

Kennedi.

Pardon?

She twirled and faced him. That’s my name. Kennedi Avery Chase.

He blinked rapidly, then fixed eyes on her, revelation reflecting in his stark stare. You’re K. Avery Chase, the bakery store owner?

It’s Chase Confections, a specialty cake boutique, she firmly chided.

You’re a woman.

Last I checked.

He shook his head. No, it’s just…your name, K. Avery Chase—my attorney…that is, I’d been led to believe you were a man. You’re owner of Chase Investments as well?

I’m named after my father. He’s K. Avery Chase of Chase Investments, and I’m K. Avery Chase of Chase Confections. Kennedi is spelled with an I.

You’re the one stalling my development. It came out brusque, irritation blatantly overshadowing surprise.

That property has been in my family for over thirty years.

From what I know, it’s showing every bit of its age.

She gasped low, her eyes narrowed. You don’t throw out the old just because it needs a bit of care, Mr. Shaw. All you’d need to do is shift your garage over a mere block or so. My building and those you’ve already planned to demolish could remain.

To do so would reduce parking availability. But aside from that, those buildings, yours included, are weathered. And frankly, eyesores.

Eyesores! I’ll have you know that store is where I grew up watching my mother create some of the most amazing cake designs. She was a master and taught me everything she knew. I worked every evening after school and summers in her store from the day I could reach the counter.

That’s all well and good but—

I’m not done! she snarled, and he flinched, looking stunned by whatever he saw in her expression. I received my undergrad in public relations and an MBA. Then graduated from culinary school and joined my mother in her store. In other words, I’ve worked damn hard to get to where I am.

I don’t dispute that—

About three years ago, my mother passed, she went on. Before she died, she asked only two things of me. That I keep the store going, and that I pass down to my future child the skills she’d taught me. I took over Chase Confections and brought in two of my friends. About six months ago, my father’s business took a sharp downturn. By the time I learned just how bad things had become, he was deep in the quicksand. I’m now trying to run his organization as well as my company. One is dependent upon the other. I used the equity in Chase Confections and my savings to try to hold off the investors. And what you intend to do is proof that luck is simply not on my side.

She cut her gaze from his on a heavy exhale to calm, then met his again. Mr. Shaw, I’ve sent numerous emails to your attorney that have gone unanswered. I came here tonight not to yell and scream, not to beat at the chest of the man who would so callously strip me of my family’s store, one that I’ve worked so damn hard to maintain and rely on. I came here so you could see me, see me outside of your P and L spreadsheets and graphed projections.

The attendant exited her gray Hyundai and handed her the key fob.

Now, Trenton Shaw, you know my name. Good night.

Chapter Three

Kennedi entered Brighton Gardens and secured the satin shawl tighter about her shoulders for decorum. Her red dress hadn’t been intended to be worn at an assisted living medical facility. Even one that still carried remnants of old-world architecture from its past life, tucked away on a private fifteen-acre estate in Hunt Valley, MD.

She gasped low in admiring surprise at the sight of the night nurse’s new hairdo. The long red flowing mane was now a lovely sandy brown, cropped pixie style. Wendy, you cut your hair.

Good evening, Kennedi. It’s good to see you. Wearing a kind smile, she sat forward with elbows atop the neatly stacked papers upon the desk, pale freckled hands linked. I wore a wig before. I’ve developed alopecia. My dermatologist said no more wigs and the like if I wanna keep what’s left of this nest upon my head. If only I had that head of curls of yours.

You’d have my frizz too. Well, this new look is definitely you. The cut complemented Wendy’s plump pink cheeks in her round face. How is my father? Good or bad day?

My shift started at six. I can’t speak to his day, but his evening seemed pretty good. He kept telling everyone that his favorite daughter was coming to see him. I did my rounds about ten minutes ago. He was asleep.

His favorite daughter. Kennedi was his only daughter, his namesake. But there had been Hannah, his stepdaughter, her stepsister, resulting from a marriage that lasted just shy of two years. She hadn’t spoken to the seventeen…eighteen… How old is she? Hannah and her mother Eleanor were virtually strangers to Kennedi. No fault to them. Very little effort had been made to get to know the pair. The wedding had been so sudden; Kennedi’d had a difficult time accepting it. I’m his only daughter. She worried Pop’s memory had declined further.

Oh, that’s right. Sorry, I forgot. Expression sympathetic, Wendy tapped on her keyboard. I have here that Dr. Marek was in with Mr. Chase this evening at five fifty-four, just about the time I arrived tonight. He didn’t jot down any new concerns since his call to you yesterday.

The doctor’s recent diagnosis had been an excruciating blow. Thank you. I’d hoped to get here sooner to speak with Dr. Marek and to see my father, but I had a late engagement. She’d promised Pop his favorite wafers. She never broke a promise. He’d see the treat by his bedside, though he likely wouldn’t remember which day she’d put them there.

I know it’s after visiting hours, but would you mind if I put these in his apartment? She held up the bag. I won’t disturb him. I’ll make it quick.

Wendy looked around then leaned in. Go before Tammy returns from break, she whispered. She’s by the book.

Kennedi was well aware Tammy Whittaker was a stickler for following the rules.

She made her way to Pop’s suite on the third floor, crossed to the bedroom and placed the bag on the side table that faced him, so he’d see it the moment he awoke.

His serene expression gave her comfort. He’d been generous with his smiles and free with his hugs her entire life. No one would know there was a vile disease eating away at his brain, stealing the vibrant man Pop had always been. All pretense of strength dissolved as tears spilled down Kennedi’s cheeks. Her mom succumbing to breast cancer, and now her pop’s debilitating illness—her anguish hit in unexpected waves. She almost buckled under the weight of her pain. But she needed to be strong and instead use her grief as fuel to continue fighting to hold on to her parents’ businesses, their tether to her.

She swiped away the wetness beneath her eyes, lightly tucked the blanket at Pop’s shoulders and pressed a gentle kiss upon his forehead.

His eyes fluttered open. Kennedi?

Hi, Pop. I didn’t mean to wake you.

I merely dozed off. Seeing the bag on the nightstand, he sat up, elevating the bed with the remote and snagged a wafer. Mmm, lemon buttercream filling.

Yes. I lightly steamed the lemons before grating the zest, the way Mom used to.

It’s delicious. He took another bite. There’s something I want to discuss with you. He patted the space on the edge of the bed, and she sat down. I’m appointing you CEO of Chase Investments, he said as he chewed.

Kennedi blinked. Pop, we talked about hiring someone, remember? But she figured he didn’t remember. The conversation had taken place during one of his good days. I don’t know. Me running a real estate investment firm… I’ve been filling in for you on the small things, but becoming CEO?

I will rest easy knowing you’re at the helm. I’ve already had Dean draw up the papers. He had objections about you taking control and offered to step into the role, but I’m confident you can handle it. He took her hand in his. We both know my condition will only get worse. I want to settle this matter while I still can. Sweetheart, do this for me.

He could have asked her to step out onto the narrow ledge and she would have done so simply to see that smile he so easily gave her. Okay.

Wonderful. He gestured with the second helping of half-eaten snack over at the nightstand. The papers are in the drawer. I’ve already signed them. I need you to do the same.

Kennedi retrieved the document and signed where the yellow tabs indicated, not bothering to read the twenty or so pages of legalese.

I need to ask one more thing of you.

She set the papers on the table. What is it?

I don’t want anyone to know about my condition. Of course, Dean knows. He’s my attorney, but more importantly my closest friend most of my life. Beyond him, I’d rather keep my circumstances quiet. It could affect business, you understand. Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone, especially the office staff. As it stands, I’m on a lengthy vacation as far as they’re concerned.

She didn’t understand but would honor his wishes. I won’t say anything. She stood up. I better get going. It’s well past visiting hours. Love you, Pop. She kissed his cheek and headed out.

Love you too, my angel.

* *

Turning into the reserved parking space in front of Chase Confections, the car’s low beams cast a brilliant spotlight on the weathered, gray cement block building. Kennedi cut the engine, got out of the car and crossed the sidewalk to the storefront’s glass door. The exterior had seen better days, but an eyesore?

You don’t throw out the old just because it needs a bit of care. Her temper surged. The damn nerve of Trenton Shaw to insult her place of business.

She checked her watch. It was nearing ten thirty, but the light illuminating from within came as no surprise. She entered with her key and quickly pressed in the code to disarm the security motion sensors. With the team often working in the rear of the store after hours, they could never be too careful.

The sweet aroma carried in the air always lifted her spirits on her stroll past the refrigerated display cases to the swing door behind the glass counter, a routine she’d done numerous times before. But tonight, the clip of her heels echoing in the quiet space drummed almost deafening between her ears. Lately she found herself counting each step, fearing when it would be the final time she’d get to walk upon the smooth pinewood laminate floor.

With two leased out-of-the-ass ovens, a refurbished walk-in fridge, and a twice-repaired HVAC system, Chase Confections had been in her family before she’d been born. In under three months, it’d be nothing short of a memory, washed away.

To add to her colossal shitshow week of misery, Pop’s investors continued to breathe down her neck, demanding their targeted return on their investments. The Miami deal still hung in the wind. Now that she was officially CEO, she needed to find someone to help her figure it out. Then there was the Hong Kong real estate deal. It’d been a poor decision from the start.

Why hadn’t she paid more attention? Pop had never before asked for her input on a project. He’d asked this time, and she’d brushed him off. His cognitive abilities had been declining, but he’d done well to keep it hidden. No other feasible explanation could explain why, with his stellar knowledge of the real estate market, he would’ve brokered the kind of deal he’d made. Even with her limited experience in his world, after reviewing the data, she would’ve advised that he not go through with it. But she hadn’t bothered. She’d put off returning his calls and replying to his emails. The sudden firing of Joseph Turner, his CFO, nine months ago should’ve been her first clue that something was wrong. But between running Chase Confections while trying to push back against Shaw Enterprise’s intent to ruin her store, and her marketing consulting work on the side, she’d been too wrapped up in her own life to notice her father’s suffering health.

Heart heavy, she