The Hamilton Heir (13 page)

“He wanted me to go to a golf tournament on Sunday morning.”

“Okay. I can see the problem with that. What did he say when you told him you were busy then?”

“I didn’t.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because he should know me better than that. I’ve never made any secret of my involvement at Northside. Of my commitment. When he asked me to go somewhere on a Sunday, it was clear he didn’t care.”

Gabi rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother.”

“Well, it was. Look at it from my point of view. Every time our church meets I see dozens of women
who are there by themselves because their husbands refuse to come. I don’t want to join their ranks. Period. It doesn’t matter why they’re alone, they just are. And it’s so sad.”

“Some are widows, like me,” Gabi said softly.

“Oh, honey.” Dawn gave her a brief hug and grabbed another handful of tissues. “I know that. I don’t mean those who have no choice. I’m talking about the women who knew their partner wasn’t interested in sharing their faith and married him, anyway.”

“I’m sure some had no idea.”

“That’s true. And I’m not saying they don’t have great marriages in every other way. A lot of them do. I’m just not going to put myself in that same position when I can already tell that Tim doesn’t value my beliefs.”

“Okay. I guess you’re right.”

“You know I am. Remember the verse about being unequally yoked?”

“Among others. Look. It’s almost time for my lunch break. What do you say we both go drown our sorrows in enough chocolate to give us zits?”

Dawn’s reddened eyes widened as she realized exactly what her friend had implied. “Oh, dear. I’ve been thinking only of myself. I’m sorry. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing new,” Gabi said with a short laugh. “I’m just taking advantage of this opportunity to pig out without guilt. Friends should never let friends eat medicinal chocolate alone. It’s practically a law.”

“If it isn’t, it ought to be,” Dawn agreed. She blew her nose and disposed of the tissue in Gabi’s wastebasket. “Thanks for being so understanding.”

“Hey, I’m a sucker for a love story.”

Dawn huffed. “My relationship with Tim is hardly that.”

“Maybe not yet,” Gabi said. “But I’m starting to see that nothing is impossible for God.”

“Who brought
Him
into this?”

Gabi laughed. “You did, kiddo. The minute you put going to church above your own desires you chose up sides. There’s nothing wrong with being dedicated. Nothing at all.”

“But?”

“But, you might want to keep in mind that the Lord really does work in mysterious ways. If I were you, I’d want to make mighty sure I was in God’s will before I cut myself off from Tim Hamilton simply because he made one little mistake.”

“It wasn’t little. It was a biggie.”

Watching her friend’s dark eyes sparkle with repressed mirth, Dawn heard her say, “Big to you, maybe. I doubt it was even a hiccup in God’s opinion.”

D
awn dreaded having to go back to work after lunch. If she hadn’t felt that it would be dishonest, she’d have called in sick. Truth to tell, she and Gabi had binged on so much junk food she didn’t feel all that spiffy, but she wasn’t actually ill. Not yet, anyway.

When she reentered the office and found Tim gone she couldn’t decide whether or not to be glad. She supposed she ought to be thankful, since his absence meant less conflict. But she also missed him; all six, tall-dark-and-handsome feet of him. Even when he was acting grumpy she wanted to be around him. Maybe not to talk to him directly, but to know he was there. That was crazy, she knew. It was also brutally honest as well as pretty scary.

Circling her desk, Dawn checked for messages before getting back to the reports she’d been typing. Except for calls from a couple of hopeful salesmen
there was nothing pending. Good. That would give her more time in which to try to sort out her confusion.

Some of Gabi’s advice had been valid, Dawn knew, yet she couldn’t stop assuming that Tim had purposely dismissed the importance of her Christian practices. It wasn’t excuse enough that Nora thought her son was simply reticent. It was much more than that.

The question was, did Dawn want to confront Tim about it and chance making things worse, or should she simply let the matter drop? If she forced the issue and Tim actually expressed disdain for her faith, would she be able to continue working for him or would she see him in such a negative light that she would be eventually forced to quit her job? That was the true crux of her dilemma. Logically, she was probably better off not knowing how he felt.

She was about to return the salesmen’s calls when the office door burst open and Ada Smith entered on Tim’s arm.

“Looky who I found downstairs!” Ada announced. “He showed up just in time, too. Those gargoyles in the lobby were about to throw me out, sure as the world.”

“Louise and Herman Gordon are practically part of the furniture around here,” Tim explained, avoiding eye-contact with Dawn. “They mean well. And they do a wonderful job of protecting us and keeping track of our staff.”

Ada beamed up at him. “Well, if you say so.”

Dawn had never seen the prim old woman look so radiant. Apparently, the effects of Tim Hamilton’s charisma were not limited to ladies of his own generation.

Dawn smiled. “Hello, Ada. What brings you to Hamilton Media?”

“You do, dear. Don’t you remember? You said you were going to tell my story just like you did that Stuart Meyers.” She displayed a sly grin. “After I read what a wonderful job you did tellin’ his story, I phoned him up and asked him what I needed to bring.”

“You called Stuart?”

“Sure did. Nice fella, too, for an old codger.”

That comment widened Dawn’s smile. “Old codger?”

“Well, maybe not
that
old,” Ada recanted. “Anyways, he told me to bring lots of pictures, so I did.” Pointing at the shopping bag in Tim’s opposite hand she said, “You can put ’em on our Dawn’s desk, son. Much obliged for totin’ ’em up here for me.”

He did as he was told, then turned away. Dawn thought he might make it all the way into his office without deigning to look at her but she was mistaken. He gave her a parting glance at the very last second and unfortunately caught her staring right at him.

Mouth agape, she blinked rapidly, hoping to hide her reaction to his intensely poignant gaze. The floor tilted. Air drained out of the room till she couldn’t catch her breath and she wondered why the
windowpanes weren’t being sucked in by the sudden vacuum.

Dawn knew the only thing that was really about to implode was her. That conclusion, however, didn’t make it any easier to overcome her shaky equilibrium. The unreadable look in Tim’s eyes had caught her gaze and was holding it fast, as if they were bound together by a powerful, invisible force.

Finally, he broke the contact, stepped into his office and drew the door closed behind him.

Ada began fanning herself with her hand. “Hoo-whee! That was enough to give me the vapors.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Shame on you. A good Christian girl like you ain’t supposed to lie. I may be old but I ain’t blind. You and that boy had this here air cracklin’!”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Hah!” The older woman wasn’t about to be deterred. “I know that deer-in-the-headlights look of yours. Ought to. I’ve seen it often enough. And he wasn’t no better. I ain’t seen that many sparks fly since Papa Smith, God rest his soul, got the tail end of his chin whiskers caught in the ’lectric fence charger. It like to killed him afore he got himself loose!”

“Now that would make a good addition to our article about your life, especially if it’s true,” Dawn said. She picked up a pencil and poised it over a lined notepad. “Have a seat and tell me all about it. When did it happen?”

Ada plopped into the chair beside Dawn’s desk
but her interest was not in herself. “I could be wrong. But if I am, it’ll be the first time,” she quipped. “I imagine one smile from Mr. Tim makes your pretty blue eyes twinkle like a lovesick firefly at the dark of the moon.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Dawn said. “I’ve never seen a lovesick firefly.”

“Then you ain’t looked in any mirrors lately,” Ada said with conviction. “’Cause if you had, you’d see it plain as day. You’re in love, girl.”

Dawn’s vision clouded with unshed tears and she blinked them back.
Not again.
And not here where Tim might walk in and see her.
Please, God. Don’t let me cry again.

Ada reached over and patted her hand. “There, there. Don’t you fret, honey. I been through lotsa heartbreaks in my time and let me tell you, every single one of ’em was well worth the tears.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t reckon you do or you wouldn’t be so sad.” She grinned and changed the subject. “Let’s talk about me for a bit, shall we? I was borned in a little cabin up in the hills. My ma was a teacher till she married Pa and the school board made her quit.” Pausing, Ada sniggered. “Didn’t know they did that to women, did ya? Well, they did. Yes, sir. The only ones deemed fit to teach younguns were single girls—and a few men, married or not. Ma got mad every time she told that story. It galled her something fierce.”

“I’m sure it did.”

“There was a lot of good in the good old days but there was a lot of bad, too. Those of us that remembers can tell ya all about it. It’s gettin’ young folks to listen that’s the hard part. That’s why I think it’s so good you’re writin’ our stories. So does Stuart.”

Dawn smiled sweetly. “It’s my pleasure.”

“How come you got this job, anyways?”

“It was Mr. Hamilton’s idea.” Unbidden, Dawn’s glance darted to his closed door for a split second.

“Good. Shows he thinks highly of you in more ways than one,” Ada remarked. “Now, gettin’ back to my ma. She used to tutor the neighbor’s kids at our kitchen table. That’s how I met my Sidney. He was a big ol’ rough farm boy, as sweet as they come. His pa didn’t take with schoolin’ but his ma knew how important it was. She used to send him over to our place to deliver eggs and he’d stay for a lesson.”

Ada chuckled low as she immersed herself in fond memories. “To this day I can hardly look at a fried egg. We sure ate a lot of ’em in those days. But it was worth it. Sid learned to read and I got me a good, hardworkin’ husband.”

She shook off the aura of pleasant remembrances to grin at Dawn. “Ain’t too many of those left, you know. Good men, I mean. I think you’ve found yourself one, though.”

Dawn knew exactly what she was getting at but chose to pretend otherwise. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Miss Ada. There’s no man in my life.”

That seemed to really tickle the elderly woman
and she quoted, “‘The lady doth protest too much methinks.’”

Dawn’s pencil stilled. She stared. “Shakespeare?”

Ada cackled. “Hamlet. Act 3, scene 2, if I remember rightly. I told you my ma was an educated woman. Just because I choose to talk like a hillbilly most of the time doesn’t mean there’s no culture between my ears.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She lowered her voice, leaned closer and spoke beside a cupped hand. “But if you blow my cover, as they say on those cop shows on TV, I’ll deny every word of it.”

Dawn laughed and made another note on the pad. “It’ll be our secret. I promise.”

“Good. Now that you know how smart I am, suppose you listen to my advice and give that poor man’s broken heart a little more consideration.”

“His heart’s not broken,” Dawn argued. “He’s just miffed because I wouldn’t skip church to go out with him.”

“You sure about that?”

Dawn’s lips pressed into a thin line and she nodded. “I’m positive.”

Tim couldn’t believe he’d misread the signals from Dawn. That kind of thing never happened to him in business. If he couldn’t have sensed what a colleague or competitor was thinking he’d never have gotten this far in the corporate world. Then again, few of his business dealings were with
young, beautiful women so he didn’t have a broad sampling by which to judge. Perhaps that was the problem.

Most women liked him. He was sure of that. And he found them pleasant, if unpredictable, company. Dawn Leroux, however, was a special case. To say she was unlike the others was to greatly oversimplify a complex problem.

What he wanted to do was confront Dawn and insist she tell him where he’d gone wrong. He wouldn’t do it, of course. A man had his pride. Still, it would be nice to know why she’d turned him down so forcefully and stormed out of the office when all she’d have had to do was say “no” and leave it at that.

The outer office was quiet. Tim decided to ease the door open and peek out to see if Ada had gone. She had. So had Dawn. He realized he’d been holding his breath and released it with a whoosh as he fully opened the door. He didn’t intend to hide in his office and wait for his assistant to get over being mad at him but he wasn’t looking forward to facing her, either. If anyone had asked him about such idiotic fears before, he’d have insisted nothing fazed him. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

Crossing to her desk he noted that her computer was still on, signifying an intent to return. Good. At least she hadn’t run off again. He picked up the yellow legal pad she’d been using to take notes during Ada’s interview. The crowded, disorganized page looked as if her pencil had run amok. There
didn’t seem to be one coherent thought in the whole scratched-up mess.

Suddenly, Dawn burst in from the hallway. She froze, staring at the pad in his hand and making him feel like a nosy parent caught reading a child’s diary. He flung the paper aside and it landed atop a short stack of unfinished work. “I wondered where you’d gone.”

“I was walking Ada to her car,” Dawn said crisply. She circled the desk and immediately slid the pad into her top drawer. “Was there something you needed?”

An explanation would be nice,
Tim thought. Instead of asking for one he merely said, “No. Nothing.”

She sat. “Well, then…?”

Realizing he’d just been dismissed from his own office, Tim set his jaw. Lately, he’d done a lot of things for which he was sorry, including feuding with his eldest brother, Jeremy. But their argument paled compared to the mistake he’d made when he’d asked his executive assistant for a date. Tim wished he could take back his invitation to the golf tourney and forget he’d ever considered including Dawn in his life. More than that, he wished she would forget he’d asked her.

Unfortunately, wishing one could change the past was a poor substitute for using common sense in the first place. He was stuck with the result of his social error and he knew it. The best he could hope for at the moment was a return of Dawn’s former
good humor. Failing that, he’d settle for a temporary truce. Anything was better than the charged atmosphere between them right now.

Turning on his heel, Tim went back into his office, slamming the door behind him. He hadn’t intended to shove it closed quite that hard but now that he had, he had to admit the hard clap of wood against wood had made him feel better.

Dawn was getting pretty sick of feeling pretty sick. Off balance was a more apt description. When she’d seen Tim looking at her notes she’d wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

She eased open the drawer and glanced down at the scribbled notes on the top sheet. Tim’s name stood out like an alligator hunter’s spotlight in a dark swamp. He apparently hadn’t noticed her telltale doodling between the lines or surely he’d have commented.

“Thank You, Lord,” Dawn whispered. “All I’d need is for him to see that. He’d think I was acting like a lovesick teenager!”

Which was exactly how she felt, Dawn realized with chagrin. Here she was, pushing thirty, and still fighting the same stupid emotions she’d battled in her teens. Terrific. Well, what was, was. It couldn’t be helped. It could, however, be hidden. Nobody, least of all Tim Hamilton, was going to know how miserable she felt.

She was going to focus on being the exemplary Christian she’d been in the past—if it killed her.
And in the meantime, she was also going to reclaim the life she’d made for herself, starting with her comfortably old car. If the garage wasn’t finished patching it up she’d haunt their establishment until they rushed the job just to get rid of her.

Standing by her desk, Dawn considered leaving a note so Tim would know where she’d gone, then decided not to. Nothing on her schedule was pressing. If she didn’t get back to the office before quitting time she’d simply make up for her absence by coming in early or staying after hours, whatever was necessary to avoid running into Tim.

She sighed. The saddest part of all this was losing her joy about coming to work. Yes, she’d keep doing her best. And yes, she’d stay at Hamilton Media as long as they wanted her. But her elation about being there had vanished like the fog over a swamp in the sunshine of midday.

That was exactly the right analogy, Dawn mused. The light of truth had erased the lovely clouds of fantasy that had kept her from seeing Tim Hamilton’s true character.