It's an absolutely beautiful morning, made even more so because my grandmother is in good spirits.

I'm sitting in the back looking out at the garden when my grandparents step outside.

"We're taking a drive along the water," my grandmother says. "Would you like to join us?"

She's wearing a pretty floral sun dress and a straw hat. And she's beaming.

"I convinced your father not to go into the office today. You know how he is, even on Sundays."

I smile back at her, secretly thrilled that she realizes it's Sunday, even if she has no idea what year it is, and thinks I'm Laura. And I know how much these moments that seem almost normal mean to my grandfather.

"Thanks," I tell them, "but I'm just going to relax, read a book, and enjoy the beautiful garden."

"That's fine, dear. Maybe your young man will come over later," she says,

"Maybe," I say.

As soon as they are on their way, I brace myself for my phone call to the "young man" she was referring to - my father.

Lately our conversations have been short and really superficial. It's uncomfortable for me, when I've always been so close to my dad, not to be able to share with him what I'm really thinking. Not even where I'm actually living. He assumes I'm still in the condo the law firm provided, and I haven't corrected that.

If I want him to tell me the truth about the past, then it's time I told him the truth about the present.

He picks up on the first ring.

"Hadley. It's so good to hear from you, sweetheart."

"It's great to hear your voice, too, Dad. Did I catch you at a good time?"

"Yes, perfect," he says. "I'm having brunch with . . . a friend later, but I don't have to leave for about an hour."

I catch the little hesitation before he said the word friend. Hmm. My dad and his guy friends don't typically meet for brunch on a Sunday morning. A beer on a Friday after work, yes, but brunch on Sunday sounds like something he might be doing with a woman.

I hope it is. My dad has been single since my mom died, and that's a lot of time to spend alone. Especially since I'll never be going back to live at home again. And I don't see myself leaving Miami and moving closer to him in the foreseeable future, either.

"So, who's your friend, Dad?" I press.

"What? Oh. Just someone I've been working with on a local re-election campaign."

"Is it a woman?"

"We're just friends." He sounds a little cranky and defensive.

"Dad," I tell him, "I want you to date. It wouldn't be such a bad thing to find someone you enjoy spending time with."

"I know," he says, clearly still uncomfortable. He immediately changes the subject. "Tell me how you are. Have you come to your senses yet?"

He asks me that every time I call.

"If you mean am I planning to leave my grandfather's law firm and go back to Philadelphia, no, I'm not." I take a deep breath. "I called them last night and told them I won't be returning. It's official now."

"Hadley, you know I think that's a mistake. He's just using you."

"Dad, I think you've misjudged him."

"Misjudged him? I hardly think so." His voice is incredulous. "Hadley, I know you like to think the best of people, but you weren't there. If you had seen how cold they were, how unfeeling, when I came to their house and begged them for help. But no, they couldn't put aside their hatred for me enough to help their only daughter."

"I'd sure they didn't hate you."

"Oh I'm sure they did. After what happened, I swore I'd never set foot in the same room with them again. I put that aside, Hadley, to try to save your mother. But they refused." His voice is as full of pain as if it all happened yesterday, and I feel terrible for bringing up the past. But not terrible enough to back off when I might finally get some answers.

"What was it, Dad? What happened that made you think they hated you? That made you hate them?"

"Not them. At least not then. Him. Andrew Reese. Until she - your grandmother - sat there that day and did nothing to help."

His voice is getting more agitated now, as old wounds are poked at. Wounds that I know have never healed.

"Please Dad, I need to know what happened before that day."

"Why, Hadley? Why would you want to dig all that up again? I don't want you working for him, but I guess there isn't anything I can do about that. I just hope you aren't spending much time with him outside of work, letting him poison you with his lies."

"Dad," I say, knowing this will be the most difficult part of the conversation. "I moved out of the condo. I'm living with my grandparents, helping to take care of my grandmother."

There's a long silence, so long I start to wonder if my father hung up on me. Finally he speaks.

"So he's managed to manipulate you into being some kind of caregiver for her, in addition to working for him at the office? That son of a bitch." He's raised his voice now, which he rarely does, and never at me. I don't think I've ever heard him this angry.

"It's not like that."

"It's obviously exactly like that," he fumes. "I can't believe you'd let yourself be taken in by his lies, Hadley, not after everything I warned you about. I'm so disappointed in you."

His words hit me like a shock of cold water being thrown in my face. My father has never said he's disappointed in me before. Not when I acted out after my mother died. Not when I got caught smoking weed under the bleachers in middle school. Not when I decided to become a lawyer, the only profession he'd ever tried to discourage me from pursuing.

Not even when I went against his wishes and moved to Miami to work with my grandfather.

He's always been there to support me, to lift me up if I make mistakes, to cheer me on to try again when I fail. His disappointment is like a knife through my heart.

"You're only seeing one side of it," I point out, trying not to show him how hurt I am by his words. Because I know he's hurting, too.

"What other side is there to see? I asked them for money to pay for your mother's cancer treatment. They said no. There is no other side. They are cold, heartless people who let their only daughter die all because they were angry at me. And angry at her for taking my side instead of theirs."

"Your side of what?" I ask him, but it's like he doesn't even hear me. He's on a roll now, bitterness pouring through the phone.

"You better hope you do exactly what he wants, Hadley, or you'll be tossed out of their home and the law firm. Andrew Reese is a vindictive man. And he's a liar. He built his reputation and that law firm he's so proud of on nothing but lies. Lies and dirty money. You think it's your legacy, Hadley? It's not the legacy I want for you. And if you knew the truth, it's not the legacy you'd want either."

"Then tell me the truth."

"I can't believe knowing that he refused to help your mother isn't enough for you. You honestly need more than that to show you what kind of man Andrew Reese is?"

"Yes," I tell him, "I need a lot more than that. Because what you think about my grandfather and my mother's cancer treatments isn't true."

"Of course it's true. I was there, Hadley. I know what happened."

"But you don't know why. Dad," I say, gentling my voice, "Mom didn't want any more treatments. They weren't working. She didn't want to take some experimental drugs in Sweden. They refused to give you the money because she told them to refuse."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard in my life. I can't believe he came up with a story like this and you actually believe those lies."

"It's the truth, Dad." I can hear my voice shaking now, and there are tears burning in my eyes. "Don't you remember how sick the chemotherapy made her? And she was going to die anyway. She wanted to spend time with us, feel better for the time she had left. She told her parents that the doctors said if she stopped all the treatments, she could have that. Her hair would grow back and she'd stop throwing up all the time." I'm crying now. I can't hold the tears back any longer.

"Daddy, don't you remember the trip to Disney? Don't you remember how happy she was? She told them she wanted to make some memories with us, for me, memories that weren't all about hospital beds and nausea."

"It's a lie," he says, but I sense a wavering in his voice, so I press on.

"She talked to her doctors, she looked into the treatment in Sweden. Her doctor said it wouldn't help. Everyone knew it wouldn't help, not at the stage her cancer had progressed to. She was going to die. She accepted that. Everyone did. Everyone but you."

"I don't believe it, Hadley. If your mom had felt that way, she'd have told me."

"Are you sure she didn't try? Think back. Are you sure she never told you she wanted to stop? No more aggressive chemo. No more experimental treatments, especially not so far from home."

"You're wrong."

I realize I don't just get my stubbornness from my grandfather. It comes from both sides of the family.

"Am I? Am I wrong?"

I hear a sound on the other end of the phone that I haven't heard in a long time.

My father is crying.

"I wanted her to live," he manages to choke out. "I wanted so badly for her to live."

"I know," I say softly, my heart breaking. "I did too."

"I have to go now, Hadley," he says. "We'll talk later."

And then he just hangs up the phone. I don't know if he believed me or not, but maybe he needs time to think about this new information. I feel so guilty for bringing this all back up again and causing him pain.

I realize he never did finish telling me what caused the rift with my grandfather in the first place. Obviously it had something to do with the law firm. Did he find out Maxwell Bennett was a major client of the firm? Is that what he meant about the law firm being built on lies and dirty money?

It doesn't seem like that fact would have been enough to tear my family apart.

I don't have much time to wonder about it, because a get a text from CJ.

I found something out about Dylan.

I text back: Tell me.

CJ responds: Can we meet tomorrow morning before work?

We arrange to meet at a coffee shop not far from the office. It's crowded in the mornings, but mostly with people picking up lattes and other espresso drinks to go, so we should have privacy if we grab a table near the back. I tell CJ I'll text Martina so she can join us.

I can't wait to find out what CJ has learned about Dylan. Hopefully it will be something we can use to put an end to whatever plan he's been scheming, and I'll finally be able to go the office without constantly being worried that someone is sabotaging not only me, but now my grandfather as well.