A Leap of Faith

Campbell Dupree, the risk taker, the adventurer, had a new set of rules: Work hard, but rest easy. Don’t overdo working or playing. Stop. Look. Listen. Appreciate. Have faith.

At least these days, he had more time to devote to the simple life his long-dead grandfather had taught him to appreciate. No more burning the candle at both ends for the new and improved Campbell. No, sir. He might have given up all things Cajun and learned how to blend in with the mainstream world of business, but he could never turn his back on the values his grand-père Marlin Dupree had taught him.

“Stand still and consider the wondrous works of God.”

That verse from Job came to Campbell now. His grandfather had always told Campbell that God was in charge, and that Campbell needed to relax and let God do his work.

But Campbell felt some of that old burning tension inside his gut, white-hot and fiery. Maybe his ulcer was coming back. Or maybe he was just worried about the pretty woman with the chestnut hair and amber eyes he’d left back in Paris. Autumn Maxwell.

He knew all about Autumn Maxwell. Her father doted on his only daughter. Richard had been so concerned about not bothering Autumn, however, he’d neglected to tell her that he’d suffered a light heart attack over a month ago. No one had that information, except Campbell and Autumn’s mother, Gayle. It wouldn’t do for a Maxwell man to look weak.

Especially not to the daughter who was too far away and too caught up in her work to be bothered. Somehow, though, Campbell got the impression that if Autumn had known about her father’s health scare, she would have dropped everything to come back to Texas. She struck him as that kind of person. From everything her parents had told him, at least. And from the shining love he’d seen in her eyes when she laughed and talked with her family.

He envied that.

Campbell had been living underneath Autumn’s soft shadow since the first day he’d set foot inside the plush but comfortable front-street offices of Maxwell Financial Group. Richard had made no bones about how he wished Autumn would come back and work for him. But then he’d explained how Autumn lived in New York and worked for some fancy global accounting and finance firm. Richard had hinted that he probably couldn’t begin to match her salary. Campbell knew the particular firm mentioned and had to agree. Not too shabby. Then Richard had shown Campbell a picture of Autumn when she was younger. Again, not too shabby.

“Why didn’t I recognize her at first today?” Campbell said as he shut the door of the ’Vette and headed into the house. He’d noticed her and realized who she was only when she’d come walking up the aisle of the chapel, her pretty dress shimmering around her slender figure, her amber eyes bright with happy tears.

Well, she’d looked different today, stylish and all dolled up. The woman in the picture at the office had been younger, more fresh-faced and carefree in her jeans and flannel shirt, sitting on a horse. She’d been smiling.

The woman he’d offended today at the wedding had been sophisticated and polished, confident, but she hadn’t smiled a whole lot.

“Okay, maybe she smiled a little bit,” he said.

But not at him, Campbell reminded himself. She obviously was not impressed with the completely impressive Campbell Dupree.

If he really wanted to, Campbell thought as he poured himself a glass of milk, he could at least match her pedigree. He’d come from an old New Orleans family. Old money and a lineage that dated back to some broke but noble aristocrat in France—on his mother’s side, at least. He knew his lineage was part English, part French and sprinkled with Cajun from his father’s side.

But he, just like his long-gone father, had disgraced his mother’s family one time too many to use their geneology for leverage. No, Campbell Dupree did things his way. Always had and always would. And that included running Maxwell Financial Group. Only this time around, he’d have the guidance of God on his side, he prayed. This time around, Campbell would do things his way, but only after he’d prayed to God for help and understanding.

“Whether the heiress-apparent likes it or not.”

Campbell downed his milk, clutched his aching stomach and wondered why it was so important that Autumn Maxwell did approve of him.

“So you don’t approve of your father’s choice to run the firm?”

Autumn turned to her mother, shaking her head. “I didn’t say that. I just said he seems a bit too self-assured and arrogant for my taste.”

Gayle Maxwell settled back in the overstuffed chair in one of the many bedrooms of the Big M ranch house, one hand moving through her clipped auburn hair. “Funny, he reminds me so much of your father.”

“Daddy?” Autumn’s shocked expression reflected in the mirror of the antique vanity. Rubbing lotion over her freshly washed face, she laughed. “Mother, that man is nothing like my father.”

“Not in looks,” Gayle agreed, a hand touching the crocheted pillow she held in her lap. “But…the way he acts. Honestly, I think your daddy handpicked him because they are so much alike.”

Autumn whirled to stare over at her mother, glad the family was staying here at the ranch for the weekend. She wasn’t ready to go home to Atlanta and face Campbell Dupree just yet. “Why did Daddy pick him? I mean, why didn’t he talk to me about all of this? I am his only child, after all.”

Gayle shrugged, then carefully placed the lace pillow back behind her in the chair. “We all urged him to do just that. But you know how stubborn your father can be. He refused to pull you away from your career in New York. He thought you were happy there.”

“I was,” Autumn admitted. “Then everything changed.”

“Well, that’s exactly what happened here, too,” her mother said. “Your uncle Stuart passed on, then James decided to retire from gallivanting around and settle down in Athens. And—” She stopped, taking a breath.

“What?” Autumn asked, getting up to sit on the stool at her mother’s feet. “What is it that y’all aren’t telling me?”

“Your father had a light heart attack a few weeks back,” Gayle said.

Autumn gasped. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“He wouldn’t let me,” Gayle said. “He wouldn’t even let me call James and Elsie. He didn’t want to worry anyone. He said it was too soon after Stu’s death.” She took Autumn’s hand. “He’s fine now, honey, honestly. I watch him like a hawk and he’s got a whole team of doctors lined up to help him. We are blessed that it was very mild.” She shrugged. “You know how he is—he doesn’t like to make a big deal out of things. I had to honor his wishes and keep this to myself.” Then she looked down at the floor. “Of course, we had to tell Campbell—”

Autumn threw down her plastic lotion bottle. “Of course! Let’s tell a perfect stranger, but not our own daughter. I don’t get—” Then she stopped, her hand flying to her mouth at the distress on her mother’s face. “I’m sorry, Mother. This isn’t about Campbell and me. I know Daddy had his reasons, but it still doesn’t sit very well. I’m just glad he’s okay now.”

Gayle nodded. “He is, honey. And he would have told you sooner, but, well, everything is changing so fast with our families these days. Death, weddings, retirements.”

Autumn pulled a brush through her hair. “I guess so. I mean, Summer’s grandparents moved into a retirement home without even letting her know a thing about it.”

“Exactly,” Gayle said, shaking her head. “It’s almost too much to keep up with.”

“And we were all three so caught up in our lives in New York. We should have communicated better.”

“Not that it would have mattered,” her mother replied. “Stubbornness and pride seem to be the dominating traits in our family tree.”

Autumn got up to pace around the carpeted bedroom. “I don’t understand the Maxwell men. Uncle Stuart kept his illness from April until it was almost too late for her to make it home in time to see him before he died. Uncle James had some sort of late-life crisis that had everyone thinking he was going to run off with some rodeo queen, until he broke down and told Summer and Aunt Elsie the truth—that he’s just afraid of getting old. And now this with Daddy. Why can’t they just open up to the people who love them?”

Gayle laughed again. “Because they are Maxwell men, honey. You know the stories and the legends. Rough and tumble, tough and ornery. Their ancestors helped win Texas from Mexico, helped build empires and conquer worlds, including everything from oil to railroads to the Alamo. They can’t show any signs of failure or weakness. And they can’t communicate for anything, I’m afraid.”

Autumn had to agree there. “So he decided to retire after Uncle Stuart died?”

“No, actually just before he died. He hired Campbell back in the spring, but your father officially retired a few weeks ago.”

“Right after the heart attack?”

“That pretty much sealed it, yes.”

“But he decided way back?”

“Yes,” Gayle said, puzzled.

“I knew it,” Autumn said, bobbing her head. “I think April knew about this. I wonder why she didn’t tell me?”

Gayle looked up at her. “Well, she’s had a lot to deal with—her father’s death, moving back to Texas from New York, starting a new job and planning a wedding. Don’t blame her if she didn’t put this at the top of her priority list.”

“Oh, I’m not blaming April. She kept urging me to call Daddy and talk to him. I blame myself—and him, of course.”

“Like father, like daughter,” her mother said, getting up to smooth the wrinkles out of her pink satin robe.

“I’m not quite as stubborn as Daddy,” Autumn retorted.

“Oh, really? So you don’t call it stubborn, turning your father down flat today?”

“That was before I knew about his heart attack. He just told me he’d had a little scare.”

“More like a big scare for me,” Gayle said. “I was so worried.”

“But you didn’t call me,” Autumn said, her heart hurting with all the undercurrents running through this day.

“No, and I’m sorry for that,” Gayle said. “But I promised your father I wouldn’t tell anyone. And I’m sure he won’t like it that I told you today. He’ll think you feel sorry for him, and we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” She walked slowly to the door. “You know, honey, with you girls up there in New York, we just kind of let things slip by. No need to bother them—that’s what we’d always say. I’m beginning to see that was wrong. We need our children around us, no matter good times or bad.”

Autumn followed her mother to the door. “He needs me now, right?”

“Yes, he does. But he’d never admit that.”

“You know I won’t let him down, don’t you, Mother?”

Gayle touched a hand to Autumn’s face. “I know you will do the right thing, darling. You’ve always been a strong girl. And I know you love your daddy.”

Autumn kissed her mother good-night, then turned to stare at herself in the mirror, the silence of the room echoing with a soft rhythm inside her brain. She could do this. She didn’t have any other choice. She was out of work and at the end of the road. And her father needed her.

Autumn looked out the window at the starry night. “I hear You, Lord. I know when You close a window, You always open a door. Or is it when You close a door, You open a window?”

Either way, Autumn knew an opening when she saw one, and this one was clearly showing her the way home.

“I guess I’m going to work at Maxwell Financial Group,” she told her worried expression as she turned back to the mirror. “And that means, I guess I’m going to work with Campbell Dupree. Whether I want to or not.”

Autumn decided she’d need lots of extra prayers tonight. But then, so would Campbell Dupree.

Chapter Three

A motorcycle.

Autumn stared out the double windows of her father’s office, watching as Campbell lifted his long legs off a big black-and-chrome motorcycle. He wore a business suit and a red helmet. And those irritating suede sneakers.

“Does he always arrive in such a showy manner?” April asked her father’s secretary, Janice Duncan.

No one knew how old Janice was, and no one ever dared ask. She’d been a fixture at Maxwell Financial Group since Autumn was a baby. She’d had the same sensible short-clipped platinum hairstyle for as long as Autumn could remember. She never aged and she never, ever spoke about work or her personal life outside the office. Inside the office was another matter, however. She knew how to settle office squabbles and she knew how to peg new hires, and she didn’t mind telling the Maxwell clan when she thought someone wouldn’t make the cut. Autumn ranked Janice right up there with her own mother, trust-wise. So she knew she could depend on Janice to give her the goods, straight up, on Campbell Dupree.

“What’s he driving today?” Janice asked, her green eyes never leaving the computer screen in front of her.

“Something Harley-Davidson, I think,” Autumn said, careful to stand back so Campbell wouldn’t look up and find her spying. “It’s huge and shiny.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Janice said, eyes smiling through her black-framed glasses. “He also owns a vintage Corvette and an overhauled Chevy pickup that he says used to belong to his grandfather back in Louisiana.” Then Janice grinned. “He’s part Cajun, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

Autumn watched as Campbell greeted the president of the Chamber of Commerce as both men arrived for work, his whole body stance animated and sincere. Since the chamber was right across the street, it figured that Campbell would get to know the staff there. Friendly fellow, she thought. Waving to everyone in town, laughing and chatting it up on Main Street. Probably mostly for show.

“Is he from Louisiana?” she asked Janice, following the other woman into the next room so Janice could grab papers from the buzzing printer.

“That’s what he told us. Grew up dirt-poor in some backwater bayou near the Gulf of Mexico.”

“Hmm.” Autumn gained a new respect for Campbell. He sure didn’t look dirt-poor now. His suit was well-made and fitted him perfectly. The fancy monster bike he’d parked out front had to have cost a pretty penny. “I guess he’s done okay for himself then.”

“I’d say,” Janice replied, her mind obviously on all the work she had to get done today. “He went to Tulane and Harvard, something about two different degrees. He’s worked for some of the top firms in the South—one in that other Atlanta—you know, the one in Georgia that our town is named after.”

“I’ve heard of the place, yes,” Autumn said, grinning. “Where else?”

“Houston, Baton Rouge and New Orleans.”

“Why does he move around so much?”

“Can’t say,” Janice said, stopping to stare at Autumn. “Why are you so curious?”

Autumn shrugged, then poured herself a cup of water from a nearby cooler. Her throat was dry this morning. “Well, I’d hate for him to run out on Daddy. What if he doesn’t last? I mean, we’re different here. Things move at a slow pace. I’m sure he’s not used to that.”

Janice gave her a wry smile. “Well, neither are you, city girl.”

“Okay, I get it,” Autumn said, smiling. “Enough questions, right? You have work to do and I’m hindering you.”

“You used to do that on a regular basis, remember?” Janice said, her smile good-natured.

“I guess I did. After school, on Saturdays, during tax season.”

Janice held up a hand. “Don’t mention tax season, please. We don’t have to worry about that until next spring.” Then she gave Autumn a wide smile. “It is good to have you back, though. All grown up, but still Daddy’s little girl.”

Autumn heard the double doors of the reception area opening. “Well, Daddy’s little girl is about to throw her weight around.”

Janice lifted her eyebrows. “What? All one hundred pounds or so?”

“I weigh more than that,” Autumn retorted, tossing her shoulder-length hair back off her neck. “But I hope I carry more weight around here than Campbell Dupree.”

Janice grinned. “I do believe things are about to change. Glad I didn’t retire along with your daddy.”

“I’ll make it worth your time, I promise,” Autumn told her as she pulled at her navy blazer. “Just watch.”

“Oh, I intend to,” Janice said to her departing back.

Campbell tossed his briefcase on one chair and his bag with two piping hot Danishes on the other, then stared at the woman standing by his desk. “Autumn? What a nice surprise. I think.” He arched his neck, looking around toward the other office.

“My father’s not here, if that’s who you’re looking for,” Autumn said, her arms crossed, her eyes full of fire and dare.

Campbell braced himself, taking his own defensive stance while he took in her crisp tailored suit and even crisper white cotton blouse. Her shoes were a matching navy leather. Pumps. He’d always admired women who wore pumps.

Except this one had obviously come dressed to kill. And he had the distinct feeling he was the one she was gunning for.

“So what can I do for you on this lovely fall day?” he asked, quickly moving his battered brown briefcase so she could sit down. If she wanted to.

She didn’t. “Can the charm, Dupree. You and I have a few things to settle between us.”

He watched the way her soft dark curls fell against the white collar of her prim blouse, giving her a look of pristine disarray. “Can I have my Danish and coffee first?”

Right on cue, Janice entered with a steaming mug, grinned at them, then left the room with raised eyebrows.

Autumn watched Janice beat a hasty exit. “Suit yourself.” She didn’t move a muscle, and her eyes never left his face.

“Look,” he said, holding his hands out, palms up, “I know we didn’t get off to a very good start the other day, but…you’re here now. Let’s start over.”

She stood there like a pretty doll, looking as if she might break if he touched her. So Campbell went about the business of lacing the coffee Janice had placed on his desk with two heavy creams. Then he set his strawberry cream cheese Danish out on a napkin, cut it down the middle, then sat down to stare up at her. “Want half?”

He breathed a sigh of relief when she sank down in one of the black-leather high-backed chairs across from his desk. She eyed the messy Danish with disdain. “No, thanks, I’m not hungry. And why didn’t you take my father’s office?”

That question threw him. “Because it’s still your father’s office. That won’t change.”

She pushed at the sensible silver clip holding her hair back off her face. “I can’t believe he retired.”

Campbell felt something deep in his heart turning as mushy as the inside of his Danish. “More like, you can’t believe he retired and didn’t tell you.”

“That, too.”

“That must have made you angry.”

“More like, hurt.”

“Well, don’t be.”

“Actually, I’m more hurt and concerned that he had a heart attack and told you instead of me.”

“Only because I work for him.”

“Right. But that’s not the issue. The issue is his health and well-being.”

“Yes, of course. And just to set your mind at ease, he’s taking care of himself. Your mother is making sure of that.”

“So she tells me.”

“You don’t look convinced.”

“I’m kind of that way—I have to see something with my own eyes to believe it.”

“I’ll make a note of that.”

She settled back against the chair, then crossed her long legs. Campbell caught a brief glimpse of her feet, and admired her shoes again. He almost missed the days of working with heavy-bellied, gray-haired, golf-playing executives back in New Orleans. Almost.

“I’m not going back to New York,” she told him in an I-dare-you voice. “I’m going to stay right here and work. With you.”

That sounded like a challenge, and he could never turn down a good challenge. So he stated the obvious. “With me.”

“That’s what I said.”

“But you really don’t want to do that, do you? I mean, work with me.”

“No, not really. But then, we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

“Amen to that.”

They sat there staring across the mahogany desk at each other until Campbell once again offered her half of the Danish. He held it out, hoping she’d see it as a truce. Besides, he had another whole one for later in his bag.

Autumn took the flaky concoction, grabbing it and the napkin before the strawberry filling could fall out on her skirt. Then she eyed his coffee.

“Want some?”

“I could use a good strong cup. But I like mine black.”

He got up. “I’ll file that away for future reference.”

“Where are you going?”

“To make you a pot of strong black coffee.”

He thought he saw admiration flickering in her eyes. And he couldn’t help the smile that split his face as he headed down the hall to the break room.

Two hours later, they had talked about everything from 401(k) accounts, penny stocks and mutual funds to overhauling Social Security. They’d covered real estate investments, capital gains, market losses, asset management and property and estate taxes.

They’d just polished off the second Danish—this one apple—and a whole pot of coffee.

Campbell sat back in his chair, his hands clasped at the back of his neck. “Okay, you win. I haven’t been able to trip you up on anything financial.”

“Were you trying to trip me up?” Autumn asked, comfortable with him for the moment. She’d sure had fun discussing work with him. Too much fun.

“Weren’t you trying to trip me up?” he retorted, his winning smile almost winning her over.

Almost. But not quite yet.

“I just wanted to make sure you—”

“You wanted to make sure I wouldn’t run your father’s company into the ground,” Campbell finished for her, his eyes glistening like diamond chips. “I can appreciate that.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way, right?” Autumn countered, enjoying the back and forth of their conversations. That should irritate her, but it didn’t. Not a good sign. That and the fact that Campbell Dupree was right on target with his financial savvy and his math skills. She couldn’t find anything else to nitpick about.

“That’s right.” He leaned forward in his chair, his hands dropping over the stacks of clutter on his desk. The man obviously didn’t believe in organization. “I wouldn’t have taken this job if my only purpose was to do in Maxwell Financial Group, Autumn. That wouldn’t do me any good, now, would it?”

She caught the hint of Cajun in his words. It was in the inflection, in the way his eyes gleamed, in the way he tilted his head to one side. Lethal. If this man really wanted to turn on the charm, she knew it would be killer.

Why was he showing so much restraint around her? Well, she was the boss’s daughter. And he was minding his p’s and q’s, no doubt.

“No, I guess you want to make money right along with the rest of us,” she said in answer to his question. “And you seem to be very good at your job.”

“I try.”

“Will my being here bother you?”

He gave her a look that made her think he was already bothered with her being here. And then he confirmed that notion. “Most definitely.”

“But you will behave and help me adjust, right?”

“For sure.”

“And we both agree that my father is still in charge, even if he spends more time on the golf course now than in the office?”

“He’s the boss.”

“And we both agree that we only want the best for our clients and their investments, right?”

His eyes flirted while she spoke. “Absolutely.”

“And we can be equal partners. No special privileges just because Richard Maxwell is my father. We’re a team.”

“We are most definitely a team. I’m here to work for your father and our clients. I expect you to do the same.”

“Good, then. I think I can work with you.” She prayed. She hoped. She’d have to be careful with that throwing-her-weight-around stuff.

“I know I can work with you.”