The Hamilton Heir (9 page)

Her high-fashion shoes weren’t the only unsteadying thing she was dealing with tonight. Ever since Tim had arrived at her door she’d felt as though her whole world was wobbling out of kilter and that feeling was getting stronger by the minute. When Gabi had warned her to be careful about swimming with sharks, she’d forgotten to mention how handsome and charming those sharks could be.

The evening she and Tim had spent delivering meals to Stuart and Ada and the others had been
nothing compared to the challenges she was about to encounter. This was a whole new universe for a simple girl from the bayous. Now that she thought about it, the possibility of falling on her face had a lot less to do with her shoes than it did with her sheltered upbringing.

Then again, Dawn reminded herself, she wasn’t ashamed of her background and she intended to make no apologies for it. As a child, she’d played school by dressing up one of her father’s old hound dogs and pretending it was her only pupil while she’d taught a make-believe class.

Attending this gala with Tim had a lot of similarities to that child’s pastime. When her game was over and the clothing removed, the old dog had still been a dog. When this evening ended and she took off the diamonds and other finery, she’d still be Tim’s capable executive assistant. Nothing more. Nothing less.

She didn’t lament the truth of her conclusion. It was simply how things were. How they should be. She didn’t fit into his high-powered world any better than he’d fit in at one of her parents’ outdoor crawdad boils down in Louisiana, with its ethnic food and uniquely Cajun zydeco music. The memory of her happy childhood made her smile.

Tim paused to open the car door for her. “Is something funny?” he asked.

“No. I was just remembering how much fun it was when I was little and life was so easy and uncomplicated.”

He looked puzzled as he replied, “That sounds odd to me. I can’t recall a time when I didn’t take everything seriously.”

Dawn averted her eyes so he wouldn’t be able to discern her innermost thoughts. She didn’t want him to know she thought that was the saddest confession she’d ever heard.

P
assing through Nashville to Opryland would have taken longer if they hadn’t been making the trip on a Saturday evening. Still, the traffic on Highway 65 was ample.

“I play golf over there,” Tim said, pointing as they passed a beautifully manicured course. He’d been trying unsuccessfully to get Dawn involved in a conversation ever since they’d left Hickory Mills. For a person who usually had an opinion about everything, she was being far too quiet to suit him.

She merely nodded.

“Have you ever played?”

“Golf?” She shook her head. “No.”

“Would you like to learn?” Her raised eyebrow prodded him to add, “It’s good for you. I mean, if you’re interested in healthy hobbies you can get great exercise walking the golf course.”

“Unless you ride in one of those little electric carts,” she said. “Do you?”

“Well, sometimes. But it still gets me out in the sun and fresh air.”

“True. I suppose it is better than living at your desk 24-7. Did you go to the office today?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I just wondered.”

Judging by her tone and the look on her face, Dawn didn’t think much of his work ethic. Tim couldn’t understand why she had such a problem with it. She always put in a full day’s work without shirking so why should she begrudge him the same kind of dedication?

He decided to ask. “Why am I getting the impression you think I work too much?”

“Because you do,” she answered. “You don’t seem to know how to relax and have fun.”

“I’m relaxing right now,” Tim said. “This is enjoyable, isn’t it?” He was sorry the minute the words were out of his mouth. Dawn’s arching eyebrow and wide-eyed, silent response told him she definitely disagreed.

He persevered. “So it’s a stockholder’s meeting. So what? That doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun, too. We’re certainly dressed for it.”

That brought a cynical laugh from his companion. “Hah! I’m so uptight I almost hate to breathe for fear something will snap and I’ll self-destruct.” She paused. “Don’t get me wrong, Tim. I do appreciate your thoughtfulness in paying for this outfit.
Really, I do. But my idea of having fun requires a lot less finery and a lot more spontaneity.”

“I can be spontaneous in a tuxedo.”

“Maybe you can, but I’m afraid to move for fear my dress will rip or my shoes will dump me in a ditch or my hair will fall down or something equally embarrassing.”

“I did wonder about that,” he said. “Why did you put your hair up like that? It makes you look—”

Her head snapped around. “What? It makes me look what? Sophisticated?”

“Well…” A blush threatened and he forced himself to subdue it by thinking logically. “I was going to say more formal. You usually look so approachable it’s kind of off-putting.”

Instead of the huff he’d expected, he heard Dawn sigh, then saw her reach up and begin to remove pins until her hair fell free to swing against her shoulders.

“Wait! I didn’t mean you had to take it down,” Tim said.

“I know.” Her voice sounded softer, as if she were relieved to have reclaimed a portion of her normal persona. She was rummaging around in her small handbag. “Uh-oh. I forgot to bring a hairbrush.”

Tim smiled at her wide-eyed artlessness. “We can fix that. I’ll stop and buy you one. Just tell me where.”

“Any drugstore will be fine. I’m not fussy.”

It pleased him to have finally found something
he could get for her that didn’t make her scowl. He took the nearest off-ramp and pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall.

“You coming?” he asked.

“Not dressed like this,” Dawn answered. “Just pick up a little brush I can stick into this purse. Nothing fancy, okay?”

“Sure. Be right back.”

Tim left her and headed for the store. He’d never shopped for anything like a woman’s hairbrush before but he figured it couldn’t be that hard. If he was capable of heading a media empire, he could certainly manage to locate one suitable item in a discount drug store.

The overhead signs directed him to the right area. After he found the display of hair accessories, however, he just stood there and stared. Though he had a dozen choices, none of them seemed to be the kind of quality merchandise he preferred.

He checked his watch. There wasn’t enough time to return to Engel’s or look for a similar upscale department store in Nashville, so he decided to settle for what was at hand.

Rather than try to choose one brush from among the many, he simply gathered up everything he thought might please Dawn and purchased the whole lot. Returning to the car he handed her the bulging plastic sack.

Her mouth dropped open. “What’s all this?”

“A hairbrush. Pick the one you want and toss the rest into the backseat.”

“You bought them
all?
” She was staring into the open top of the sack.

“No. Just the littler ones. I wanted to be sure you had what you needed.”

Instead of the thanks he’d expected, Tim saw her lips press into a thin line. Finally, she took a brush from the bag and opened the plastic bubble covering it.

Admiring her as she brushed her silky hair, he was feeling a sense of accomplishment until she said, “You have too much money, Mr. Hamilton. Way, way too much money.”

Dawn couldn’t help being awed by the entrance to Opryland. A wide, circular drive led to a massive, airy building whose columns and porticos reminded her of the Hamilton house, only on a much grander scale. A uniformed doorman opened her door and greeted her like royalty.

Tim handed his car keys to the parking valet in exchange for a claim check, then joined her and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

“I guess it’s too late to change my mind now, huh?” The crestfallen look on his face spurred her to add, “Just kidding,” and loop her hand through the crook of his elbow as they climbed the stairs together.

Inside, the vastness and splendor of the lobby took her breath away. Rich, red brocade carpet covered the floor. An irregularly shaped ceiling of varnished wood with white beams rose to a peak
like a giant teepee above a crystal and brass chandelier that had to be fifteen or twenty feet across. Potted ferns as big as trees softened the decor and a sweeping staircase rose, then divided, flanking the lower lobby with open balconies.

Dawn faltered. “Oh, my!”

“I thought you’d be impressed,” Tim said. “Wait till you see the atrium. I’m not much into plants but whoever keeps the grounds must be a master gardener.”

He led her through the lobby and out the opposite side.

Dawn breathed a quiet, “Wow.” She’d imagined a greenhouse stretched over a garden but never anything of this magnitude and beauty. In keeping with nature’s flowing design, there wasn’t a straight line in the place. An indoor river, complete with sightseeing boats, curved around islands of greenery and multistoried buildings she assumed must house shops or restaurants. Above, steel beams supported a roof that was so high it arched over full-size trees the likes of those growing in Sugar Tree Park.

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.