Authors: Annie Jones
If he did, Dixie had not happened upon him yet. She
’
d thought she had a couple of times but, sadly, the men she had believed capable of that depth of commitment had proved her terribly wrong. Relationships of all kinds, according to Dixie
’
s experience, equaled one-sided responsibility.
Despite the sorrowful pang of loneliness that welled up inside her, she lifted her chin, sniffled, and echoed the sentiment again in her mind.
Who needed a husband? Certainly not Dixie Fulton-Leigh.
“
Thank you, for your frankness, Mr. Greenhow. I will give your suggestion all the consideration it
’
s due.
”
She folded her hands and watched a vile smugness creep over his entire disposition. When the attitude had consumed him from his ruddy face to his practically dancing toes, she swallowed back a bitter taste in her mouth and squared her shoulders.
“
That
’
ll just about do it, I think. Good-bye, Mr. Greenhow.
”
“
You mean you
’
re taking my advice and leaving all this for another time?
”
Greed-inspired glee
. No other words could describe the lilt in his tone.
“
No.
”
She leaned back. The seat groaned and sighed under her weight. Over the years the supple leather of that old chair had conformed itself to her father
’
s frame so that though it had sat empty for nearly two weeks now, it still held the outline of his broad shoulders. For only a fleeting instant it felt like Daddy was wrapping her up in one of his big hugs, the kind that drove away her every fear and doubt and made her feel she could be loved and safe forever.
Then the feeling passed and she looked up into Greenhow
’
s disdainful face.
“
No, Mr. Greenhow, I mean you
’
re fired.
”
“
But you can
’
t...
”
The redness flushed from his face and he blinked, his jaw slack. Then he drew in a deep breath and glowered at her.
“
You don
’
t fully understand what
’
s involved here, what
’
s at stake. Your father—
”
“
My father is gone and I will not do business with someone who holds my workers, my customers, me, my father, and my surviving family in the kind of shallow, mean-spirited contempt you
’
ve shown today. Now get out of my office, or I will have you escorted out.
”
“
This is not finished.
”
He wagged a finger at her even as he moved to make his exit.
“
It is for you and your firm, I assure you.
”
She feigned an intense interest in the ledger she
’
d shoved aside earlier.
“
Just because you are a member of this town
’
s founding family, does not mean you can run roughshod over reality, Miss Fulton-Leigh.
”
He stood with one foot in the office and one in the hall, his lips pale and tight, his eyes bulging.
“
And the reality is that you will regret this move—sooner rather than later. There are problems here at Fulton
’
s Fine Furniture that you are not taking into consideration. Problems I sincerely doubt you have any hope of knowing how to handle.
”
She supposed she might have taken the threat more seriously had it not come out of someone who looked like a snapping turtle in a chokehold. As it was, she waved her hand, hummed an acknowledgment, and said,
“
My new lawyer will be equal to that task, Mr. Greenhow. He or she will be in touch, I
’
m sure.
”
“
Oh,
we
’
ll
be in touch, Miss, you can be sure. You can bet the family fortune on it.
”
The office door slammed shut.
Dixie rubbed the back of her neck, but it didn
’
t undo any of the stiffness there.
She didn
’
t know any other lawyers and she doubted if the other two local attorneys were capable of taking on the company that was the basis of the whole town
’
s economy. From what she knew, those men dealt mainly in wills, real estate, divorce, and adoption—the kind of legal
requirements of the average citizen of Fulton
’
s Dominion.
Her needs, the needs of Fulton
’
s Fine Furniture Manufacturing, and those of her family were anything but average. And now she had gone and fired the only hope of help she had in managing them.
She took a long, shuddering breath, shut her eyes, and let the tears begin to flow.
Chapter Four
“
Riley Walker, you are in a world of hurt.
”
Carol Foster called the comment out across the still back lot of Walker and Son Sawmill, waving a handful of white papers in one hand and clutching her black leather briefcase with the other.
Riley squinted in her direction, even though there was no blazing Mississippi sun to get in his eyes this time of day on an early March afternoon. He shifted his steel-toed work boots in the woodchip-covered ground and adjusted his yellow hard hat first forward, then back, then forward again. He knew why Carol had come, why she had waited until all but a few of his workers had called it quits on his last day working at the mill. He knew what she wanted to talk to him about and he was not a happy man.
“
Wait up.
”
She picked her way through small oil slicks, sawdust, and mud just to get from her car to where he stood. Still, her dark blue suit looked like she
’
d just stepped out of a designer showcase and her high-heeled shoes remained impossibly spotless.
Riley tugged off one leather work glove and slapped it against his jeans, as if that could get rid of the filth of a full day
’
s work ground into his clothes. He shifted his hat once more, letting some air circulate over his scalp. He should take the fool thing off, as any gentleman would in the presence of a lady, but the thought of how his dark hair would be matted down in one place, drawn up into waves and annoying little curls in another made him think twice. Besides, taking his hat off for Carol might indicate a social pleasantry that Riley just did not feel right now.
“
You didn
’
t need to drive all the way out here, Carol. I was planning to come by your office later in the week so we could discuss—
”
Carol cut him off with a flourish of her hand.
“
Couldn
’
t wait. We have a court date coming up in eight weeks, Riley, and if we are not ready, you are going to find yourself in a world of hurt.
”
“
So you said.
”
He folded his arms over his chest, clenched and unclenched his fists, then heaved out a sigh.
“
All right, then. Why don
’
t we take this to the office and talk about it?
”
“
I can talk while we walk.
”
She started toward the sturdy shed-on-stilts creation that he had called his office since he took over for his father many years ago.
“
Walking
and
talking, huh? That may be asking far too much for a poor, uneducated ape like me.
”
Riley fell in step beside her.
“
Very funny. Lucky for you I don
’
t require anything complicated like gum-chewing or shoelace tying. A simple signature will do. I know you can scrawl out your name, honey because I
’
ve seen you do it on legal documents, credit card receipts, and even the occasional greeting card.
”
Her eyes flashed then she lowered her lashes and cocked her head. She gave him just a hint of smile as she reached into her briefcase. A second later, she offered Riley the ridiculously expensive fountain pen he
’
d given her just two weeks ago on Valentine
’
s Day.
A pen just like the dark-haired woman had given her elderly companion after their ill-fated run-in. Riley stared at the pen. He
’
d given it to Carol because he
’
d wanted what it represented for himself. He swallowed hard and started to guiltily put the pen out of sight, but before he could slide it into the pocket of his faded denim work shirt, Carol cleared her throat.
“
No stalling. Time
’
s running out on this.
”
“
On what?
”
Did she know he
’
d been thinking about their doomed relationship?
“
On
what
? On these.
”
She took the pen again and tapped the papers in her hand.
“
You
’
ve
got
to sign these papers right now authorizing an all-out slash-and-burn investigation of your sister so we can prove her an unfit mother, once and for all.
”
He frowned at the pages bearing the familiar name of a private detective in Jackson, Mississippi.
“
I thought I told you I didn
’
t want to do things that way—
”
“
And I told you we have to be prepared for anything.
”
Her clipped, dispassionate words rushed over the top of his own slow, calculated ones.
He narrowed one eye, his lips tight against his clenched teeth then turned to lead the way up to his office. The sparse wooden stairs swayed and groaned under his weight.
“
Be reasonable, Riley.
”
Carol
’
s heels barely made a sound on the rough steps as she followed in his wake.
“
We have to be at the ready with the most compelling case possible as to why you should be allowed to finalize adopting your niece.
”
“
I
’
ve raised her these last six-and-a-half years without any support or contact from Marcia.
”
He gave the office door a shove then stood aside to hold it open for Carol.
“
Isn
’
t that enough?
”
She spun on her heel, her finger stabbing the air at a spot that would have been his breastbone had he been standing any closer to her.
“
You are asking the state to legally take the rights of a
mother
to her
child
. You can
’
t expect to accomplish that without some powerful evidence as to why it must be done, why the present situation is no longer adequate for the welfare of the child in question.
”
He turned his gaze away from Carol, with her perfectly poofed-up hair the color of a golden honeycomb. He shut his eyes, but he could still picture her waiting for a better response from him, arms folded, standing stiff as oak beside his desk.
He saw her, but he wondered if she saw him. Not just the man standing before her, or even the guy who got cleaned up to take her to the movies Friday nights. Did she see the real Riley Walker? Her insistence in pushing this issue told him she didn
’
t.
“
I
don
’
t
know that you
’
re right about this, Carol.
”
He whisked off his hard hat and flung it down. It hit the seat of his chair, rolled off, and landed with an emphatic thud on the weathered floorboards.
Carol glanced down but otherwise stood her ground.
“
And you don
’
t know that you
’
re right about this, either, Carol. You
’
re just hedging your bets, trying to cover all the bases.
”
He spread his arms wide, like an umpire calling a man safe.
“
That
’
s your job—to point out the options to me, and I understand that.
”
“
Good.
”
She held the papers and pen out to him again.
“
Then maybe we can—
”