The Hamilton Heir Read online

  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 wa
s 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.

  She supposed she should be praying and thanking her heavenly Father for that strikingly clear illumination but she just couldn’t make herself pray that prayer. Not yet. Not yet. She swallowed hard. Maybe never.

  Heather was downstairs in the lobby, apparently waiting for Dawn, when she arrived at the office several days later. They signed Herman’s log and headed for the elevator together.

  “So, how have you been?” Heather asked brightly.

  “Fine. You?”

  “Just great. I do have one little problem you may be able to help me with, though.”

  “Sure.” Dawn pushed the button for the second floor for Heather and the third for herself. “What is it? Do you want to borrow the blue dress?”

  “No.” The other woman leaned against the richly paneled elevator wall and folded her arms across her chest. “I want you to tell me what’s wrong with my brother.”

  “Who, Tim? How would I know?”

  “You’re the one most likely to know,” Heather countered. “You see him far more than anyone else does. So why is he acting like he’s just lost his best friend and his dog has been run over by a bus.”

  “I have no idea what you mean.” Dawn frowned. “Wait a sec. What dog? Tim told me he’s never had a pet.”

  “I was being facetious.”

  “Oh.” She shrugged. “Well, maybe worrying about your father has made him tense. I mean, Wallace has been in and out of the hospital a lot lately.”

  “That’s true. Has Tim gone with you to deliver meals-on-wheels again?”

  “No.”

  “Have you invited him to?”

  Dawn had to make a great effort to school her features so they wouldn’t give away too much emotion. “He’s a busy man. He has plenty to keep him occupied without traipsing all over town with me.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Of course I am. Maybe he’s worried about the business. He gets pretty uptight when things don’t run smoothly.”

  “I know. I looked into all that. Ed Bradshaw’s sure the paper is doing well and Amy says magazine subscriptions are up, so it can’t be that.”

  “Then I’m afraid I can’t help you.” They’d reached Heather’s floor. Dawn pressed her thumb to the button that kept the door from closing.

  “How are you doing?” Heather asked before exiting. “Really.”

  “I’m fine. Just peachy. Righter than rain.” Her bottom lip began to quiver.

  Heather touched her shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie and consolation before stepping into the hall. “That’s what I thought. Hang in there, okay? Whatever’s bugging Tim can’t last forever. He’ll get over it and things will be back to normal soon. I know they will.”

  Deeply touched, all Dawn could do was nod. She saw the other woman wave as the brass doors whooshed shut.

  The elevator began to rise. Overcome with emotion and knowing she was about to lose control, Dawn pushed the red button for emergency stop. The car jolted to a halt between floors and she buried her face in her hands.

  Tears came, unhindered, and in moments she was sobbing her heart out. With them came a revelation, a certainty she’d been denying ever since Tim had begun treating her with such disdain. She couldn’t take much more, couldn’t stay much longer. If something didn’t happen soon to temper his ire she was going to have to start looking for another place to work. It was a coward’s way out, she knew, yet she couldn’t visualize herself weeping constantly until retirement!

  That colorful insight was so vivid it tied her stomach in knots and settled there like a boulder.

  Dawn waylaid Gabi after work and invited her out for coffee.

  “Sorry,” Gabi said, leading the way to the hospital parking lot. “I can’t. I have to pick up the girls. Why don’t you ride along? We can talk on the way.”

  “I suppose I could leave my car here and go with you. I finally got it back.” She pointed. “Over there. See?”

  “Hey! Nice. I like that color blue. It looks like the whole thing was painted.”

  “It was. Tim insisted on having it done.”

  “G
ood for him.”

  “Yeah, well…”

  Gabi snickered. “That poor man couldn’t please you right now if he bought you that fancy loaner you’ve been cruising around in for the past few weeks. What’s wrong with you, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Leading the way to her car, Gabi unlocked it and slid behind the wheel. “Okay. Talk.”

  Dawn plopped into the passenger’s seat and sighed as she fastened her seat belt. “I wondered if you might know of a job opening at the hospital.”

  “For who? For you? That’s ridiculous. You have a wonderful job at Hamilton Media.”

  “It was wonderful,” Dawn countered. “Past tense.”

  The pretty Latina rolled her eyes and shook her head slowly. “Now I’ve heard everything. You have to be nuts, girl. Why would you want to leave a perfectly good executive position for an entry-level job in this hospital?” Before Dawn could answer she continued, “And don’t tell me it’s because Tim Hamilton is a snake in the grass because we both know he’s not. He may not be one hundred percent ideal but he’s not so bad you have to quit working for him.”

  “Who says?”

  “I do! If you can’t think clearly, somebody had better do it for you.”

  “There’s nothing unclear about how I feel,” Dawn argued.

  “Maybe not. But there are sure a lot of problems with how you’re dealing with those feelings. We can’t pick and choose which parts of the Scriptures we follow, you know. What about forgiveness and tolerance?” She raised an eyebrow. “What about everybody being equal in God’s eyes. Do you think you’re more equal than Tim Hamilton is?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Well, that’s how it looks to me, kiddo.”

  Subdued by the realization her friend could be right, Dawn stared out the window at the passing scenery, seeing little. Did she think she was somehow better than Tim because she was a practicing Christian? Apparently. Which meant she was anything but better. If acknowledging God’s magnificent grace in her own life didn’t bring at least a measure of humility she was definitely missing the point.