Her eyes narrowed. “There was a lot to do.” She downed half her beer, and he lifted an amused eyebrow. “What was happening at the office?”

Travis tipped his head. “I was just telling your mother about it. It was a bit chaotic, but I think I got things settled down and got a plan in place.”

“What kind of plan?”

“Public relations. I met with Matti and David. We’ve sent emails and instructed every district manager and store manager to hold staff meetings tomorrow and gave them the announcement to make. We have to put out a press release about Parker’s death, reassure our suppliers and customers and business partners that everything will go on as usual and reassure staff that they’re not going to lose their jobs. We’re going to put a big photo of Parker in the lobby at headquarters tomorrow. We haven’t finalized anything yet, but we talked about a linkup with the memorial service so we can broadcast it to L.A., San Francisco and New York. We’ll likely do a special issue of the newsletter for staff.”

“Oh. That sounds...good.”

“We talked about the memorial service too. There may be some things you haven’t thought of. We think there are a few people you’re going to have to ask to speak.” He reeled off a list of names, prominent business people from across the country.

“Oh, lord.” He could see she hadn’t realized the magnitude of all this as she nibbled her bottom lip. Her eyes met his, and he sensed she was on the verge of asking him for help. He knew how hard that was for her.

“I can call them,” he offered as casually as he could.

He waited for her to refuse the offer as she sat there thinking about it. He was about to tell her that it wasn’t a weakness to accept help from someone, but then she gave a tight little nod. “Okay. Thank you, Travis.” His heart expanded a little in his chest, and he again resisted the urge to say “good girl”, knowing how much that would piss her off. She changed the subject. “Did you talk to anyone in Matagalpa?”

He went with it. “I talked to the hotel. They’re shipping back the stuff that was in his room. I told them to express ship it so it should be here in a day or two.”

“Oh.” She pressed those pretty lips together firmly. “Tomorrow I’ll come to the office with you.”

Was there any point in arguing with her? He had no idea what she thought she was going to do, but trying to tell her not to come would just make her dig her cute little heels in. So he said nothing.

Dayna interrupted his thoughts. “Don’t forget we’re meeting with Reverend Foster tomorrow. He’s coming here at ten o’clock.”

Samara sighed. “Oh, yeah.”

“And we need to make plans for the party after the funeral,” Dayna continued. “We’ll need to find a caterer that can do it at such short notice. I think we’ll have to hire bartenders and waiters. And we have to get that obituary done tonight. It needs to be faxed to the newspapers tomorrow. Oh god.” She laid her hands on her cheeks. “So much to do.”

“Communications can do that for you,” Travis offered.

Samara opened her mouth as if to protest, glanced at her mother and the overwhelmed expression she wore, then closed it. A shadow flitted across her pretty face that made Travis regret his earlier digs. She turned back to him. “Travis... will you do the eulogy?”

Holy shit. Travis’s brows lifted. “Uh...me?”

“Of course, you.”

Travis met Dayna’s eyes, and she gave a small nod. He looked down at his beer. After all he and Parker had been through together, that kind of choked him up. He swallowed. When the tightness in his throat had eased, he said, “Of course.” How could he refuse when Samara looked like that, momentarily vulnerable and sad, then trying to be strong? When she was Parker’s daughter? He cleared his throat.

“And you’ll be an honorary pallbearer,” Dayna added.

His chest ached. “All right.”

Parker’s death was becoming more and more real every moment. They were talking about his funeral, for Chrissake. He rubbed his face, his chest aching.

Ava appeared in the door. “Dinner’s ready,” she announced. “I set the table in the breakfast room again.”

“Thank you, Ava.” Dayna rose and set her empty glass on the bar. Travis and Samara held onto their drinks as they all went for dinner.

At least a dozen large flower arrangements had arrived at the house that afternoon while they’d been out, and Dayna gestured to a stack of envelopes on the console table in the hall.

“You can help me open those cards after dinner, Samara.”

Samara nodded.

Nobody was sending him sympathy cards, Travis reflected with wry humor and a faint ache in his chest. Yet he’d miss Parker as much as anybody.

“I talked to Wade,” Dayna said as they took their seats. “He’s going to come over first thing in the morning to go over the will.”

“Will it be like in the movies?” Samara asked, laying her napkin over her knees. “Will everybody be tense and then pissed off at each other when they find out they didn’t inherit anything?”

Travis grinned, and Dayna laughed. “No. I already know what his will says.”

Samara nodded, and Travis started filling his plate. He hadn’t thought at all about Parker’s will or his assets, including his shares in the company. “So it sounds like you’ll have a full day tomorrow too,” he said to Samara.

“Yes! More fun! Wills and funerals, I can hardly wait.”

Dayna bent her head to hide her smile with a faint shake of her head.

“I’d so rather be at the office,” Samara continued.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You have enough to worry about here. I’ll take care of things there.”

“I want to handle things.”

He looked at her sitting around the corner of the table from him. Again tonight she was just playing with her food. She was slim to begin with—she couldn’t afford to lose any weight. “You need to eat,” he told her, nodding at her plate.

She blinked. “I am eating.”

He laughed. “No, you’re not. You’re pushing that food around on your plate, just like you did last night.”

She laid her knife and fork on the plate, rested her hands on her lap and gave him a heated you-can’t-tell-me-what-to-do look up through her long eyelashes.

“You’re too skinny,” he added, and her eyes widened.

“I am not skinny!”

He raked his gaze over her. She looked hot as hell, but it was better to insult her than to let on how goddamn gorgeous he thought she was. Her cheeks grew pink under his appraisal. He shrugged. “You look skinny to me.”

Her lips pressed together, and her eyes flashed gold sparks. “Well, thanks so much. Good thing I don’t give a shit what you think.”

“Samara!” Dayna’s eyes moved back and forth between them, her mouth open. “That was rude!”

Samara brushed her long bangs aside. “I’m being rude? I’m not the one making rude comments about how bad I look.”

Travis sighed and opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could, Samara rose from the table and tossed her napkin down. “You know, since I don’t seem to have much appetite, there’s not much point in me sitting here.” She left the room.

Travis met Dayna’s gaze and grimaced. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have pushed her buttons.”

Dayna looked back at him searchingly. “No, you shouldn’t have,” she agreed, her voice soft. “You know how contrary she can be. And she’s not exactly in a good place right now. This isn’t a good time for any of us.”

Dayna’s patience and understanding made him feel like shit. “I know.” He looked down at his plate, his appetite gone too. “I’ll go talk to her. After dinner.”

Dayna nodded slowly, still looking at him quizzically. So much for the avuncular keeping-his-distance plan.

Samara stalked through the den and outside onto the patio, far enough away from the kitchen that they couldn’t see her, a string of curses trying to escape her mouth. Damn him!