Page 21 of Passion and Privilege

“He’s a strange man, Dad,” I started. “He can have anything he wants, and yet he seems miserable. I never know what mood he’s going to be in. He’s a difficult person to figure out.”

My dad chuckled, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Catherine, money can’t buy happiness. It’s as simple as that. Give that man a wide berth. You don’t need to get mixed up in his billionaire drama.”

“He’s got everything,” I said. “He’s got an amazing house and the money to fix it. He has a daughter. He never has to worry about paying rent or affording the electric bill. I guess I don’t understand how someone could be so miserable when they have so much.”

He shrugged. “The more you have, the more you stand to lose. When a man has everything, he lives in constant fear of losing it all. That can make anyone miserable.”

I considered his words, ruminating over them as I looked at the pieces of the mansion scattered around his workspace. It made sense in a twisted sort of way. But it still didn’t excuse Timothy’s behavior.

“Maybe, but it’s not like he can’t just buy it back.”

“He can’t buy back his marriage. Money really cannot buy love. For people like us, it’s hard to understand how lonely it can be being at the top. He’s got that big house and no one to share it with. I know you think we had it hard because we didn’t have a lot of money and I couldn’t afford to buy you a basic house, let alone a mansion, but we always had each other. Sometimes, that’s more important.”

My dad’s words hit me hard. As much as I wanted to sneer at Timothy and his money, there was something tragic about his situation.

I looked over at my dad as he returned his attention to the piece of molding in front of him. He was right. We might not have had much, but we always had love and each other. It was more than many people could say.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said after a while, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Good.”

“Did Scott return your tools?” I asked.

“No. I have a feeling I won’t see them again now that he’s moving.”

“Moving?” I asked.

“He got fired a few days ago, the loser,” Dad said with disgust. “He’s moving to Lake Placid for some reason.”

The words hit hard. I didn’t tell my dad about Scott’s connection to Lake Placid. I chose not to divulge the details of our breakup, even if he already heard the rumors.

“I didn’t know,” I said. I didn’t want to start thinking about Scott and what it meant that he was moving. “Did you eat?”

“I ate breakfast,” he said dismissively.

I frowned. “You’re supposed to eat a few times a day,” I lectured. “You have to keep your blood sugar regulated. If you skip meals often, it’ll put you at risk for hypoglycemia.” I repeated what the doctor told him at his last checkup.

“I’m not diabetic, Catherine,” he said, setting down his tool once more.

“But you could be if you don’t take care of yourself!” I protested.

His face softened at my obvious concern. “I appreciate your concern, sweetheart. But I’m fine. Once I get this molding done, I’ll have something to eat.”

I sighed, knowing that arguing wouldn’t get me anywhere. My dad was as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be.

“I’ll go get pizza,” I told him. “I didn’t eat either.”

He chuckled. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“I’m young,” I said, grinning. “I can do it.”

I left the shop and headed to our favorite pizzeria.

The solitude was a welcome reprieve after the long day. I enjoyed the quiet drive, thinking about Timothy and what it must be like to be him. During quiet moments like these, I felt an appreciation for our town, quaint and comfortable in its predictability. I only had my dad as family, but the whole town felt like extended family members. But who did Timothy have?

His assistant? I got the impression the two were more than just boss and employee. Bennet seemed to genuinely care about his boss. I hoped Timothy had at least one friend.

After placing an order for our favorite, sausage and mushroom, I leaned against the counter, lost in my thoughts. Scott’s sudden decision to move wasn’t that big of a surprise. A quiet voice in the back of my head admonished me for even thinking about him but curiosity always got the better of me.