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done in a minute.”
     
     
    “That’s all right. I’ll wait.” What could he be talking about that he didn’t want her to overhear?
     
     
    Seated in one of the armchairs, Trinity sifted through the magazines, but neither Money nor Popular Mechanics grabbed her interest. She sometimes slipped in through Daddy’s second office doorway, which exited directly onto the executive row hallway at Green Industries. This morning, however, that door had been locked, a fact which Verna explained away as a “very important private conference call.”
     
     
    So here she was in the outer office with too much time to think about how she’d break the news. She hated to hurt Daddy or worry him. Since her mother died, she’d tried to spare him as much trauma as possible. She must have had a momentary brain malfunction marrying Harper the way she did. How could she have done that without a thought for how badly her father would feel? It was an unconscionable act. Another sigh puffed out.
     
     
    “You all right, hon?”
     
     
    Verna had been around forever, though she didn’t look older than fifty-five. Her hair had long since turned from black to blue gray, and her skirts had inched down from above the knee to below. She was now the closest thing Trinity had to a mother.
     
     
    Still, she couldn’t say to Verna, “Yesterday, I caught my husband screwing another woman in our shower, I masturbated for a total stranger last night, and today I’m filing for divorce.”
     
     
    The thought did not make her feel sick or scared. It did not . She’d made up her mind. As if her subconscious had made plans in her sleep, she’d woken this morning knowing that’s what she’d do.
     
     
    She shuddered with the thought of how upset Daddy would be. Still, she smiled for Verna, though it felt a little brittle. “I’m fine. Honestly. But thanks for asking.”
     
     
    Verna gave her a look that said she didn’t believe a word, then her phone beeped. “Oh, there he is. You can go in.”
     
     
    When Trinity walked through the door, her father was shoving a file folder in his middle drawer.
     
     
    “Hey, Daddy.” She rounded the desk and kissed his cheek.
     
     
    He worried her. As had happened while her mother was ill, he’d lost weight in the last few months since the merger with Castle Heavy Mining. Until last year, Green Industries had been an independent supplier of Castle. Her father was on Castle’s board, and he still ran Green as a subsidiary, but . . . he’d changed. The weight loss wasn’t bad on its own, but instead of looking healthier and more fit, he appeared haggard and gaunt. He wouldn’t give up his cigars, either, as the ubiquitous ashes on his blotter attested. His favorite saying was, “I’m sixty-eight and too old to give up the one last thing I enjoy in life.”
     
     
    Now Trinity had to add to his burden.
     
     
    “To what do I owe the honor of your visit, sweetie?”
     
     
    Brushing aside ashes, she perched on the edge of his desk. There was no appropriate lead-in. “I’m getting a divorce.”
     
     
    He sat back in his leather chair. He’d had that chair so long that his bottom left a permanent imprint. Everything else in the office was relatively new, and definitely luxurious, but he wouldn’t give up his favorite chair. Now, he sank into the soft leather, closed his eyes, and sighed.
     
     
    “Praise the Lord,” he murmured, though he’d never been a religious man.
     
     
    Trinity flopped down in the chair opposite his massive desk. Thank God he wasn’t upset. “Didn’t you like Harper?”
     
     
    Her father leaned forward once again, both elbows on the desk. “No man is good enough for my little girl.” He reached into his middle drawer and drew out the folder she’d seen him stash when she walked in. “But Harper Harrington the Third”—he gave the title a derisive slur—“wasn’t worthy of washing the underside of your Mustang.”
     
     
    He opened the