Page 9 of Loving Jemima

“Told you,” Jem said, pushing herself up off his desk.

Her father was already standing when she walked in, and she rounded his desk to give him a perfunctory peck on the cheek.

“How much do you need?” he said grumpily sitting down again.

Jem ignored the question. “Did you really just hire a no-name for the anniversary party?” she asked.

He eyed her, then grunted. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I did. She’s a talented woman and I liked what she had to offer.”

Big boobs then, Jem thought privately. “And she’s trustworthy enough to leave the biggest party you’ve hosted for decades in her hands?”

“None of your business,” her father said again. He put his hands on the desk. “Well then, out with it.”

Jem sighed and sat down. She hated doing this, really hated it. But she didn’t have a choice if she wanted the car fixed. “It’s about the MG.”

“Yes?”

She cleared her throat. “There’s been a bit of an accident.”

“I see,” said her father before she could say any more. “And I suppose you want me to pay for the damage?”

She put on her best smile. “If you wouldn’t mind. I’m sure it won’t be too much, it’s not awful, but you know how temperamental she can be.”

“No.”

The word was so unexpected that Jem was silenced for a full thirty seconds. “No?” she finally repeated.

“No,” said her father again. “This is the fourth time you’ve crashed this car and I’ve had enough. I suppose you were off your face again, or hungover, or driving too fast to get to your hair appointment, or something equally frivolous.”

“I’m not frivolous!” Jem interrupted.

“Are you not?” her father asked, leaning forward in his seat. “Then tell me something you’ve done recently that wasn’t frivolous. That didn’t involve going to a party or getting ready to go to a party or the aftermath of a party.”

Jem opened her mouth then closed it again. She couldn’t think of anything. “That’s unfair,” she said finally. “You’re putting me on the spot.”

“Because it’s about time you grew up,” he said, little spots of color on his cheeks. “You’re an intelligent girl, Jemima, and I’ve spoiled you and put up with all of this for too long. I thought you needed time to find yourself, to find your place in the world, so I stepped back. But enough is enough.”

Jem, who had heard this more than once before, took a breath. She needed the car fixed, that was about it. Her allowance would come through next week, and she had her credit cards until then. This would all blow over.

“Fine,” she said reasonably. “I’ll start looking for a job, something I can do. But in the meantime, I’ll need the car for… interviews and such.”

He glared at her and Jem sensed that something had shifted. She saw for a second what other people saw when they sat opposite her father, the shrewd businessman, the peerless negotiator. She gulped.

“I’ll pay for the car,” he said finally, sitting back again.

“Thank you,” Jem said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“But you’ll work off the debt.” He held up a hand to silence her protest. “You’ll work off the debt first.” With a sniff he turned back to his computer. “Be here on Thursday at eight.”

“In the morning?” squeaked Jem.

He glared at her again, and she took that as her cue to leave.

“OH, DARLING, IT can’t be that terrible,” Rolly said, patting her arm with a pudgy hand. “I’m sure he’ll just have you do some filing or something for the morning, just to teach you a lesson.”

“Filing?” asked Jem, putting down her glass of champagne.

“Isn’t that what finance companies do? Or maybe counting money?” said Rolly, an unsure look passing over his face.