Getting Some Of Her Own (18 page)

She listened to their chatter, talking to each other like adults, and the time passed swiftly. Very soon, they reached Winston-Salem, and she found her way without difficulty to the Children's Museum in Old Salem, where children could explore life as it was long ago. Rudy's and Nathan's excitement told her that she had chosen the right adventure for them. At one-thirty, exhausted from following them from one eighteenth-century adventure to another, and hungry, she had to plead with them to go to eat.

“We'll come again if it's all right with your guardians, but please. I'm starving,” she said.

“I don't want any hot dogs,” Rudy said. “I eat that all the time at home. That and peanut butter sandwiches.”

“I like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Nathan said.

Rudy wrinkled her nose. “I don't.”

“Then it's settled. We'll go to a real restaurant, and we'll have ice cream for dessert.”

The three of them enjoyed crab cakes, French fries and grilled sweet peppers at Mazie's, an attractive restaurant that welcomed children with a menu especially for them.

“I want peach ice cream,” Rudy said. Nathan wanted chocolate and strawberry. “You can't have two kinds, can he Miss Pettiford?”

“Sure he can, and so may you.”

Rudy clapped her hands and a grin spread over her face. “Then I want peach and strawberry.”

Susan realized with a pang that she would gladly give them the moon, if it were hers to dispense with. As they drove back to Woodmore, it occurred to her that, as a financially solvent person with a good job, she could adopt a child. The thought jarred her to the extent that she caused the car to swerve and barely managed to control it before it went off the road and into a ditch.

Calmer now, she said to herself, “Maybe that's the answer for both of us.”

They entered Woodmore, and the children immediately recognized the familiar landmarks. “We're back home, Miss Pettiford,” Rudy said. “Can we go to your house?”

“Where do you live?” Nathan asked.

“On the other side of town,” she answered, opting for vagueness. “I'd love for you to visit me, but I didn't get permission. Maybe one day we can do that.”

“But I had so much fun I don't want to go home,” Rudy said.

“It's okay,” Nathan assured Rudy. “If we stay away too long, your foster mother might not let Miss Pettiford take you out anymore.”

She parked in front of the house in which Rudy lived. “I'll be right back, Nathan.” One of the children opened the front door, and she had to leave Rudy without having seen her foster mother. Etched in her mind was the thought that the woman had no interest in Rudy beyond the money she received for the child's care.

After leaving Nathan with his grandmother, she drove homeward thinking that what she was about to attempt would, if she succeeded, change her life forever. With her mind on that possibility and not on her driving, she turned off the Market Street underpass before reaching the exit leading to her house. Finding herself only two blocks from her shop, she decided to stop there for a short while.

As she sat in the storage room checking the fabric for Mrs. Burton's dining room chairs, the buzzer on the front door rang. Asking herself why Jay would come to her shop on a Saturday afternoon when he knew she was normally closed at that time, she opened the door with what she supposed was a question on her face.

“Hi, Jay. This is a surprise. Come in.”

“I saw your car out there. It's a little chilly. Want some coffee? I got us some at Pinky's down the street.”

She wondered at his motive. “Pinky's? I wouldn't have thought Pinky's served food to carry outs.”

“If you're the chef's first cousin, you can take out anything but the tables and chairs. You like sugar and cream or milk?”

“Just milk.” She led him to the showroom, sat down in a chair and took a few swallows of coffee. “I didn't realize I wanted any coffee. This hits the spot.”

“You still seeing Hamilton?” he asked without preliminaries.

Taken somewhat aback by the abruptness of the question, she gulped. “Uh . . . I see him at Wade School where we both volunteer as tutors. Why?”

He looked her in the eye. “That's not what I mean. Do you have a personal relationship with him?”

She took a few more sips of coffee, using the time to figure out Jay's motive. “I really don't know what my relationship is with Lucas Hamilton. He's my boss at Wade School, and he's not happy about my relationship with some of the children. I'm probably too motherly. On the other hand—”

“Yeah,” Jay said, his voice laden with disgust. “He wants to take you to bed.” Her bottom lip dropped. “Don't look so surprised. Of course he does. You're a helluva good-looking woman. What man wouldn't want you?”

She wondered then why she'd been so certain that Jay's interest in her was purely professional. Cassie's summation of him had probably helped her to discount Jay as a man but, in addition, he possessed a streak of deceitfulness that caused her to beware of close ties with him.

She pinned her gaze on him. “Why are we having this conversation?”

His half smile should have warned her, but it didn't. “Because I'm like any other man. I want you, and Hamilton is in my way.” She saw in him neither regret nor wistfulness, but the arrogance of a man exercising his God-given right.

“Well,” she said, annoyed at his brazenness. “I'm glad you only see in me what every other man sees, because that means I'm not special to you, and you and I can be friends. I'm not looking for a man, Jay.”

He drained the coffee cup and tossed it into the wastepaper basket. “You do like men, don't you?”

She ground her teeth, a sign that Jay Weeks was about to get a sample of her temper. “Do ants like sugar? You bet I like men, but I'm beginning to not like you. Until you walked in here, I would have asked if you liked women. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Look. Don't get hysterical. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“Why would I allow you to upset me, Jay? Close the door when you leave.”

He stood and stared down at her. “Women can be such bitches. See you around.”

He sauntered out of her shop, and as her gaze followed him, he would have been stung with arrows if her eyes had been capable of it. “If I was going to get involved, it wouldn't be with a man who swings both ways,” she muttered to herself.

She suspected that Jay might be trying to temper his competition, and she had proof of that when she arrived at Mrs. Burton's house the following Monday morning and found Jay standing at the front door talking with her client.

 

 

Lucas, too, had discovered an adversary, and he set about immediately to isolate the man, neutralizing his influence with other unit chiefs. “I haven't decided to fire Logan,” he told Miriam, “at least not until the accountant inspects his books. Nothing has been done at 2101 Rovine. If he's calling my bluff, he'll be sorry.”

Miriam patted his arm. “Logan tended to boss Mr. Jackson. He always told Mr. Jackson what his unit needed, how it was prospering and what kind of profits it made, and Mr. Jackson trusted him.”

“Why? That's not the way to run a business as big as this one.”

“Logan's been with the company from the first, even before Mr. Jackson built his first building. They were in school together.”

He had no idea as to his father's education, and he didn't want to show his hand, so he asked her, “Which school?”

“University of Minnesota, and after all these years away from there, whenever the two of them are in my presence, Logan manages to mention the word,
gopher
.”

This would be more difficult than he had thought. “I have no sentimental attachment to the University of Minnesota or to Logan, and if he doesn't shape up, he's out of here. From now on, I'll deal with his deputy. Get Landon on the phone, please.”

“Mr. Landon, this is Lucas Hamilton. As you know, I ordered that 2101 Rovine be brought up to standard within a week. The week has expired and not one thing has been done there.”

“I know, Mr. Hamilton, but I can't move unless Logan tells me to.”

“I'm removing that building from Logan's responsibility. As of this minute, you're in charge of it, and I am informing Logan accordingly. Can you handle that?”

“Yes, sir. I'll get right on it.”

He dictated a letter to Miriam, informing Logan of his reduced responsibility, signed it and headed back to Woodmore for a conference with Willis about the next unit of Hamilton Village.

“Oh, what the hell! I ought to stop in and see how he's getting along.” He turned off Highway 52 and headed back to Danville. Not much later, he stood beside the bed gazing down on the man who sired him, a man asleep, but nevertheless wan and seemingly fragile. He tried to push aside the emotion welling up in him, but to no avail. Slowly, he lowered his body into the chair beside the bed and closed his eyes.

“How long have you been here?”

Lucas jerked upright. In the quiet that surrounded him, he had dozed off. He looked at his watch. “About twenty minutes. Seems I fell asleep. How are you?”

“They insist on giving me painkillers, and I don't want them, but I don't know which one of those pills is the painkiller. I walked yesterday with crutches, but only a few steps. It's going to be a long haul. How do you like your new job?”

“It's a challenge. They tried to put the screws on me, but that lasted exactly fifteen minutes, or until I let them know who and what I am. I may have to fire Logan if he doesn't shape up.” He studied his father's face for a reaction, and saw none.

“I'm not surprised. Logan's been cheating me for years. He thinks I don't know it.”

“Why did you tolerate it? A couple of his buildings are in disrepair. I won't stand for it.”

“You're young, vigorous, full of the future, willing to deal with problems. I got over that. My family enjoys my wealth and the status it gives them, but if I went off to Mt. Everest for a year, they wouldn't miss me as long as the checking account had plenty of money. So I stopped knocking myself out, and stressing over everything that went wrong with Jackson Enterprises. Logan knew my feelings about . . . about things, and he took advantage of it.”

Lucas looked hard at his father, making certain that the man heard and understood his words. “I wouldn't like to interfere with Logan's relationship with you, but if he doesn't straighten up
now
”—he emphasized the word,
now
—“he'll need another job.”

Calvin's half smile reminded him of his own trait. “You're the boss, Son, and you don't know how glad I am to have that load off my back.”

“Is it very painful?”

“It's worse since I got up. I think it was too soon, but nothing gets me down. I'm glad you came. It's good to have a visitor.”

Lucas mused over that for a minute, reluctant to ask whether his wife and daughters had visited him. But he should know, shouldn't he? “What about your daughters? I'd . . . like to meet them. I didn't know I had sisters.”

“Luveen, my younger daughter, was here once right after my surgery. She lives in Johnson City, Tennessee. But I don't expect to see Enid. She's mad because I put you in charge of the business, even though she knows she can't manage a bunch of five-year-olds in kindergarten. Anyway, she lives over on the Outer Banks.”

No point in skating around reality; they were both adults. “What about your wife?”

Calvin breathed deeply and expelled the air slowly. “Marcie has never taken an interest in what I do. She has her book clubs, bridge club, sorority, alumni association, the NAACP, the Urban League, and hell knows what else. A little real work would kill her.”

Now, he knew where he stood. His main opposition would come from Logan and his older sister, Enid. He wanted to ask Calvin how long he'd had that peculiar relationship with his wife, but he didn't. It wouldn't have been much of a stretch from that to an explanation as to why he had an affair with Noreen Hamilton, and Lucas didn't want to hear about that.

He was therefore unprepared for the advice his father gave him. “I want you to listen to me, Son. Don't let concern for what people will think or greed for material things interfere with your happiness. If you do, as Eugene O'Neill said, it will be a ‘long day's journey into night.' I know what I'm talking about.”

“I don't want to tire you out,” Lucas said, hoping to avoid comment on what amounted to a confession on his father's part.

“Will you come back? I don't need any reports on the business. I don't even want any, but I'll be glad to see you whenever you can make it.”

I'm not his judge-penitent. God will take care of that. I haven't done what he did, but I'm not perfect, either.
“I have staff meetings every Monday morning at nine, so I can stop by on my way back to Woodmore.” A loud, soul-cleansing kind of laugh erupted from Calvin Jackson's throat and, as painful as it appeared, he rolled over and let himself enjoy his happiness.

“What's so funny?”

“I can just see Logan dancing to your tune. It does my soul good. Right on, Son.”

“You didn't have regular staff meetings? No, I guess you didn't.”

“You keep up the good work. It won't hurt those guys to earn their pay,” Calvin said.

“I'd better go. I have a meeting with my builder. I'll see you next Monday.”