The Hamilton Heir Read online

  Tim guided her along a wide promenade. “I thought you’d be pleasantly surprised.”

  “That’s an understatement. Umm. Smell the honeysuckle? I’m amazed it’s still in bloom this late in the fall.” She paused and cocked her head, listening. “Is that running water?”

  “Uh-huh. There’s a waterfall on the other side of these buildings. I think that’s where they have the laser light shows after dark.”

  She grinned. “I hate to keep repeating myself but wow! This place is unbelievable.”

  They paused at the metal railing of an elevated walkway. “This is the skywalk,” Tim said. “Behind us is the hotel and over there is the terrace of the Ristorante Volare where we’ll be having dinner.”

  “You would have to remind me.”

  She was still holding on to his arm and he covered her hand with his. “Are you teasing, or does being here really upset you that much?”

  “A little of both, I guess,” she said with an audible sigh. “I’m not used to your lifestyle. I just hope I don’t embarrass you, that’s all.”

  “Never,” Tim said.

  Dawn sensed his sincerity even as an inner voice warned against taking him too seriously. Tim, like the rest of the Hamilton men, was a business-first kind of guy. If he thought her presence would be an asset, he’d include her. If he thought she might prove a detriment to his career, he’d dump her like a load of trash.

  The earthy analogy did nothing to comfort her. Growing up near the New Orleans waterfront, she’d heard more than one person refer to her friends and family as trash. As an adult, she knew how unfair that label was, yet old hurts that deep were hard to forget. Yes, God loved her. Yes, God accepted her, no matter what. But that didn’t mean everyone else felt the same way. If Tim had actually seen her humble origins, he might be less inclined to include her in anything, let alone dinner with his board and stockholders.

  Then again, Dawn thought, smiling, if her daddy thought Tim wasn’t giving his little girl the proper respect, he just might hurl him off a pier into the bay and ask questions later. The image of the oh-so-perfect Tim Hamilton, dressed like a penguin and bobbing like a cork in the ocean, amused her greatly.

  Tim bent to study her face. “That’s better. I thought I was never going to get you to smile.”

  She blushed. Good thing he didn’t suspect what she’d found to smile about!

  The banquet room at the restaurant was so crowded Dawn ceased to worry about losing her balance. Even if she did totter, she reasoned, she couldn’t fall all the way down. These people were packed together so closely it would be impossible to reach the floor.

  Tim had been shaking hands and introducing her to so many attendees that their names and faces had become a blur. The only one who really stood out was Richard McNeil, an attorney she’d met more than once at the Hamilton Media offices. He was a big man, heavier than Tim and a little taller, with the same dark hair but lighter-colored eyes. He shook her hand, then raised his empty glass. “I need a refill. What are you two drinking?”

  “Sparkling water with a twist,” Tim said. He looked to Dawn. “You?”

  “That sounds fine.”

  Richard excused himself with a nod and turned to elbow his way through the crowd to the bar. She was glad Tim had spoken up and ordered something nonalcoholic. It was comforting to know she wasn’t going to have to insist on driving home because he’d been drinking. Most of the other revelers seemed to be doing just that, apparently taking advantage of the special wines offered at the open bar.

  The lawyer returned carrying three glasses dressed with thin slices of lime. “Here you go.” He smiled at Dawn and handed her one first. “How’s the boss been treating you?”

  “I can’t complain,” she said pleasantly.

  Richard arched an eyebrow and grinned. “Would it do you any good?”

  “Nope.” His banter was relaxing her. He turned to Tim. “How about you? We haven’t seen you around much lately.”

  “I’m not slaving as hard as I used to. I’ve decided that life’s too short.”

  “Amen to that.” She raised her glass and clinked it against his.

  Richard lowered his voice to continue. “Look at Wallace, for instance. He didn’t take the time to stop and smell the roses and now he may not get another chance.”

  “I hope he does,” Dawn said sincerely.

  “So do I. When God gives us a second chance, I think we appreciate it more, don’t you?” Richard queried.

  “I suppose so.”

  Tim waved and called a greeting to someone across the room before turning his attention back to Dawn and McNeil. “Say, Richard, did Dawn tell you she’s writing for the paper, now? I’ve got her doing a regular human interest feature.”

  “Really? That’s nice.”

  “Yes,” Dawn said, “I’ve discovered—”

  “Hey, I forgot to tell you,” the attorney said, concentrating on Tim, “I got one of those new titanium drivers we talked about. It has a 450cc adjustable head and a graphite shaft with a low kick point.”

  “No kidding? How does it play?”

  “Great. I’ve almost gotten rid of my slice.”

  Dawn listened quietly. They were apparently talking about golf. She sipped her water and bided her time rather than try to comment and show her ignorance. The urge to change the subject to a topic with which she was familiar was strong. She resisted. Two more men had now joined Tim and Richard’s conversation and she was fairly certain none of them would be interested in swapping stories of crawdad fishing or dodging alligators in a mangrove swamp.

  Then again, she thought, smiling sweetly and nodding unspoken greetings as others passed, one of those fancy golf clubs they were bragging about might be just the thing for beating off a nasty-tempered, hungry gator!

  The image that idea brought to mind almost made her forget herself and laugh out loud.

  She was still enjoying the picture of wading into a swamp, dressed as she currently was and armed with a shiny new golf club for self-defense, when dinner was announced.

  Tim led her to the head table and held her chair.

  “You didn’t tell me we were going to be on display,” she whispered as she took her seat.

  “I never gave it much thought,” he said. “Dad always sat up here with the board. It didn’t occur to me you might not know that.”

  “Are there any other things you failed to mention?” she asked aside.

  “I don’t think so. But feel free to kick me under the table if something else bothers you.”

  “Can’t,” Dawn said, stifling a nervous giggle. “There are no toes in these shoes and I don’t want to hurt myself.”

  “Whew! That’s a relief. I was beginning to worry.”

  “Sure, you were.”

  The crowd slowly found places at the other tables and quieted. Dawn watched Tim out of the corner of her eye as he stood and addressed the assemblage, welcoming them to the meeting on behalf of his ailing father and the firm. He displayed an air of command and self-assurance that really was impressive, even to someone who interacted with him daily the way she did.

  Timothy Hamilton belonged at the helm of Hamilton Media, she affirmed. The man was a born leader.

  Then why am I sad when I think of him sitting up there in that office, hour after hour, all alone? she wondered. He seems happy. Fulfilled. Content with his role.

  Because I know there’s more to life than work, she answered easily. There’s joy. And peace. And the love of the Lord that makes everything the best that it can be.

  That was what she wanted to share with Tim. Most of the other members of his family seemed to understand the power of faith, especially since the onset of Wallace’s catastrophic illness. Sometimes it took a terrible thing like that to strengthen a person’s faith, assuming there was a glimmer of belief present in the first place.

  That was the key, she concluded. And that was her fear. If Tim didn’t believe to start with, there was nothing she c
ould do to open his mind to the possibility that God loved him.

  Such things were not up to her, nor to anyone else. If Tim was to be reached, to be comforted, to be brought into the family of God, the call would have to come from her Heavenly Father. All she could do was continue to pray for Tim and try to set a good example. Beyond that, she was powerless.

  Still speaking, Tim introduced a chaplain who stood to lead a group blessing on the meal.

  Dawn bowed her head with the others but surreptitiously watched Tim. He seemed to be participating in the prayer. That was a good sign. Now, if she could just get him to loosen up and attend church with her, she’d be happy.

  That selfish thought settled in her heart like a jagged stone. It wasn’t about her, it was about him. If she truly cared for Tim, and she knew she did, she’d be praying for his personal well-being and happiness, not thinking about what she wanted for herself.

  Penitent, Dawn closed her eyes and fought the tears welling behind her lashes. To love, to really love, was to put the other person first. Always. Without reservation.

  Such altruism went against human nature but she knew she had to try. For Tim’s sake. And her own. Because, in spite of everything, she’d apparently fallen for him.

  Chapter Ten

  As the dinner got underway, Dawn saw that many of her fears had been groundless. She hadn’t tripped or spilled anything and there was little chance she’d accidentally use the wrong fork. The crystal and cutlery were arranged in a logical progression according to need and the only thing confusing was which of the napkins folded into rosettes and tucked into the coffee cups between each place setting was hers. She’d solved that mystery by simply watching which side Tim took his napkin from and following suit.

  She was enjoying the salad course immensely until she bit into a rubbery-textured tidbit and looked more closely at the tossed baby greens as she swallowed that mouthful. Calamari! Somebody had spiked her salad with squid tentacles! Ugh. So much for haute cuisine. She loved seafood in general but definitely drew the line at eating suction cups.

  Eyeing Tim, who was not paying the slightest attention to her, she pushed her salad plate away, folded her hands in her lap and waited for the next culinary surprise. Someday, when they were in a more relaxed atmosphere, maybe she’d tell him how proud she was of herself for choking down the disgusting mouthful instead of looking for a graceful way to spit it out!

  Tim was eating his own salad while listening to a nearby board member’s opinion on stock options. He finally nodded, turned away from the man and smiled at Dawn. “Not hungry?”

  “Not very.”

  “Too much pizza?”

  “I guess so.”

  His mouth quirked in a half smile as he poked through his salad with his fork. “Wish I had some right now. I’m not fond of calamari.”

  “Neither am I.”

  Eyeing her rejected plate he immediately asked, “Want me to order you a different salad?”

  “No.” Dawn shook her head emphatically. “Knowing you, I’d get every scrap of lettuce left in the kitchen—and then some.”

  Tim chuckled. “I’m not that bad.”

  “Well…” She was hoping her drawn-out comment would further amuse him and was pleased to see that it did.

  “Okay. Maybe I am that bad. But you have to admit I get the job done.”

  “That, you do.”

  “Are you having a good time so far?”

  Dawn smiled sweetly and leaned closer to speak privately. “Yes, except for making myself swallow that little tentacle I didn’t notice hiding in my salad till it was already in my mouth.”

  She thought Tim was going to choke trying to contain his laughter. He pressed his linen napkin to his lips and coughed into it. “You didn’t see it first?”

  “Nope.”

  “It is considered a delicacy.”

  Dawn huffed. “To some people, maybe.” She cupped her hand at the side of her mouth to be sure her next comment reached Tim’s ears only. “Personally, I’d rather suck the brains out of a boiled crawdad.”

  That did it. His ears turned red, his eyes widened and moments later he exploded into laughter, muted only by his napkin.

  Beside him, Dawn resumed her earlier demure pose, hands in her lap, eyes downcast. She was glad the tablecloth hid her hands from view because she’d had to make fists and press her nails into her palms to keep from laughing along with Tim.

  This might have started out like every other stuffy stockholders’ dinner he’d ever attended but she imagined this particular evening would stand out in his memory for a very long time. It certainly wasn’t a night she’d soon forget.

  Penitent, she finally reached to pat him on the back as if she thought he’d choked. There were tears in his eyes and his face was flushed. The coughing lessened. She smiled. “You okay now?”

  Tim managed to nod.

  “Good.” Her smile grew. Her blue eyes sparkled with repressed mischief. “I wasn’t kidding, you know. That is how we eat them in Louisiana.”

  He nodded again and rasped, “I know. That’s what made it so funny.”

  By the time dessert was served, Tim had had many chances to observe Dawn’s interaction with their dinner companions. Now that she’d relaxed and was being herself, she was charming everyone around them. She had the same rapport with these people as she’d had with Stuart Meyers, Ada Smith and the others on her meals-on-wheels route.

  Perhaps that was the key to her success, Tim reasoned. She didn’t discriminate in either direction. Except in his case, he added, chagrined. When it came to money, especially Hamilton money, Dawn was definitely biased in the negative. He supposed that was to be expected, since her job as his executive assistant did require a status separation of sorts. Knowing he couldn’t be everybody’s buddy and still run the company successfully, she had never tried to cross that invisible line. Therefore, it made perfect sense for her to be hesitant to drop their normal office barriers, even in a social situation like this.

  It had occurred to him, more than once, that he might have made a serious mistake by inviting her to accompany him and share his standing at the stockholders gala. The decision had been a well-thought-out one but he continued to have misgivings.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t think Dawn belonged wherever she wanted to be. On the contrary, she was holding her own quite admirably. His worry was that getting too familiar with her might harm their exemplary professional relationship.

  Tim cleared his throat and watched her with pride. She was a real gem, an asset to his new position, a good right hand to his left. That was the key. They worked together so well they were less like a team than a single entity and he didn’t want to lose that edge.

  So why had he asked her to accompany him and taken a chance on destroying the working association they’d built? Because he truly enjoyed her company, he admitted. Being with Dawn, listening to her views on life, seeing the way she enjoyed everything so fully, made him feel lighthearted when little else did. He didn’t know if she purposely attempted to lift his spirits but that was certainly the result. A person like that—a woman like that—was a rare delight. When the family crises were over and the company was on a firmer footing, maybe he’d make an effort to see more of her.

  That notion amused Tim. He saw Dawn every day in a literal sense. And, in truth, he looked forward to it more all the time. He’d always loved going to work but her presence there made him feel so good he’d found himself sticking his head out of his office and asking her unnecessary questions just to hear her voice and see her smile. She was…

  The depth of his musings brought Tim up short. He was beginning to think like a lovesick teenager—like his sister, Melissa, who was the most mixed-up one of them all. Just because Heather had found her dream man in Ethan Danes, Chris was smitten with Felicity Simmons, and Amy had decided to give Bryan Healey another chance, didn’t mean all the Hamiltons were ready to settle down. He was only thirty-three. He had plenty of time
to find a mate, assuming he wanted one.

  Dawn glanced up and caught him staring. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Tim could feel his cheeks warming. “How’s the cheesecake?”

  “Delicious.” She chuckled softly and whispered, “Not a tentacle in sight. This time, I checked.”

  “Good for you. I see you’re learning.”

  “How about yours?” Dawn asked with a slight nod toward his dessert. “Don’t you like cheesecake?”

  “It’s okay.” Tim wasn’t about to admit he’d been so involved in daydreaming about her he’d forgotten to eat. “I haven’t touched it. Would you like it?”

  “Umm. I am tempted.” She smiled at him and he felt it all the way from the nape of his neck to his toes. “But I think one serving is enough. As short as I am, I don’t have a lot of extra room.”

  “How tall are you?” he asked, mostly to distract himself.

  “Five foot three in my bare feet. Much taller in these shoes.” She eyed him studiously. “Heather says you’re six feet even.”

  “Yes. Guess I take after Dad.”

  “I didn’t want to ask about him and spoil your mood, but since you’ve brought it up, how is Wallace doing lately? Do you think he’ll be coming home soon?”

  “I hope so, especially for my mother’s sake. She’s beginning to look as weary as he does.”

  “I know. It’s really nice of you to take Nora to lunch the way you do.” Dawn paused, frowning. “Why didn’t you bring her to this dinner tonight instead of me?”

  Not wanting to admit he’d never seriously considered asking his mother, Tim took a slow sip of his after-dinner coffee to buy time to think before answering. “She wouldn’t have wanted to come to something like this without Dad, especially since they’ve always attended as a couple. They’ve been together for so long they’re practically inseparable. Besides, I know she’d have worried about making him feel left out if she’d come.”

  “My parents are codependent like that in some ways, although my father does go deep-sea fishing without Mom.” Dawn sobered. “Lately, she hardly ever goes out because of taking care of my brother, Phil.”