The Hamilton Heir

“Something like that.”

“I see.”

He mulled over her statement and realized she had a valid point. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“I’ll drive you.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know. But I am the one who smashed your car so I figure I owe you.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Consider me a fellow volunteer, just helping out in a pinch.” Tim couldn’t believe she was still hesitating.

“Tell you what,” Dawn finally said. “I’ll make a few calls, see if maybe Pastor Abernathy or Amy are free to deliver tonight.”

“Amy? You mean my sister? Why her?”

“Because she’s been doing some of the evening meal distribution, too. I thought you knew?”

“I suppose she may have mentioned it.” Tim set his jaw. “Look. I happen to know she has a late meeting scheduled. Forget about arranging for a substitute. I’ll drive you. Period. In the meantime, do you want me to throw a little mud on the BMW so it won’t look too nice?”

Dawn could tell she was out of options so she capitulated. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll explain when I hand over the meals.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what you plan to say.”

“You can hear it for yourself,” she told him with a smile. “I’ll want you to come inside with me and meet some of my favorites. They’re delightful people. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“No more surprised than I am right now,” Tim said. “Why have you never talked about doing volunteer work?”

“I guess it never came up,” she answered. “You and I don’t have many in-depth conversations.”

“Well, maybe we should have,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

“I didn’t tell you about it to make points.”

“Still, you did,” he said with a smile. “I should be in the office all afternoon, after my lunch with my mother, so let me know when you’re ready to go.”

The rest of Dawn’s day flew past in a blur and 5:00 p.m. arrived before she knew it. Normally, she looked forward to taking the meals to her regulars. This evening, however, she was decidedly uneasy. Not only was she faced with having Tim Hamilton acting as her chauffeur, she’d realized belatedly that he was going to have to drive her home, too. Hamilton Media was located in Davis Landing, in the high-rent district along the Cumberland River, while she lived in Hickory Mills, a place often referred to as the “wrong side of the tracks.” She didn’t relish having her hypercritical boss see her modest apartment, even from the outside.

She considered phoning for a taxi, then changed her mind for fear of offending him. The door to Tim’s office stood ajar and she could hear him talking on the phone, so she waited till he’d ended his conversation before rapping on the door and easing it open a bit farther.

“Mr. Hamilton?”

“Yes?”

He had removed his jacket, loosened his pale blue silk tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves, yet his wavy dark hair was perfectly combed and he still looked like a glossy ad for Armani suits or expensive Italian loafers.

Dawn hesitated, then plunged ahead. “All that correspondence you wanted is stacked on my desk, waiting for your signature.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“I—uh—I thought I’d go home now.”

“Is it that late already?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Then we’d better get going.” He stood. “Where do you live?”

“Hickory Mills. On Third Street.”

“Then let’s go. Can’t keep hungry folks waiting for their dinner.”

“I still feel bad about this. I wouldn’t agree to it except—”

“Except I murdered your car. Have you heard anything about its repair or am I going to have to pay for its funeral, instead?”

“Repair. Definitely repair,” Dawn said, smiling. “The garage called. They promised a price break and I told them to go ahead. I hope that was okay.”

“Fine. Very efficient, as usual.” He slung his jacket over one shoulder, then joined her at the door. “I was going to do a bit more work before I called it a day but I guess I can come in early tomorrow. Let’s go.”

Having to take two steps for each of his long strides, she was nearly running by the time they got to the elevator. He reached out and held the door for her to pass.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m glad you’re not in a hurry. I’d probably have to wear track shoes to keep up with you if you were.”

“You were moving pretty fast this morning,” Tim countered. “I had to run down the stairs to catch you.”

“Good thing you have such long legs then, huh?” Dawn saw him eye her much shorter stature and discerned a touch of wry humor in his expression. “My legs are not too short,” she insisted. “They reach all the way to the ground, don’t they?”

Tim chuckled. “That, they do.”

Suddenly, Dawn wished she’d kept her mouth shut instead of calling attention to herself. She wasn’t ashamed of her lithe figure or the feminine clothing she favored, she just hadn’t meant for her otherwise reserved boss to take special notice. There had been times, ever since she’d started working for him, that she’d secretly wished he’d at least acknowledge her as a living, breathing human being. Now that he had, however, she wasn’t so sure she liked it, especially since they were cooped up in a cramped elevator. Alone.

Don’t be silly, her sensible side argued. There’s nothing wrong with taking an innocent elevator ride with a man, no matter how handsome and dashing he happens to be. And there was certainly nothing wrong with Tim Hamilton’s manners. He was every bit the perfect Southern gentleman he’d always been.

Particularly in regard to other women, she added contritely. Until today, his suave graciousness had seemed reserved for women he saw socially. Now that Dawn was the recipient of the Hamilton charm, she wasn’t sure how she ought to react. One thing was certain, however. This was going to be a very long evening.

If she could have been positive the whole unfolding sequence of events was God’s idea, maybe meant to show Tim how to appreciate the simple things in life more, she’d have been happier with the situation. Then again, who was she to question her Heavenly Father?

The same silly person I’ve always been, she answered honestly. Some things were just beyond human comprehension and the only times she got herself into real trouble were when she tried to second-guess the Lord and help Him out.

That ridiculous thought made her smile. As if God wasn’t capable of doing anything He wanted whether she cooperated or not!

When they reached the ground floor, Herman Gordon hailed them. “Night, Mr. Tim, Miss Dawn.” He bent to retrieve a picnic basket from beneath the counter that he and his wife, Louise, considered their private bailiwick. “Here’s the stuff you ordered from Betty’s, sir. It was just delivered a few minutes ago. Miss Justine brought it over.”

Tim took the basket from him. “Thanks, Herman. Have a good evening.”

The old man waved a clipboard. “Gotta sign out. Them’s the rules.”

“Do it for us,” Tim called back, hurrying Dawn toward the door. “You know who we are.”

Dawn snickered quietly. “He’s a stickler, isn’t he?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Tim said. “I just figured we’d better make tracks or he’d start telling us one of his long stories and you’d never get your meals delivered.” He led the way to his car. “Speaking of which, I thought we might be hungry, too, so I ordered a little dinner to go.”

“That’s what’s in the basket?”

“Uh-huh.” He opened the passenger door and held it for her. “I knew it wouldn’t be right to eat anything meant for delivery to your customers, so I planned ahead and ordered this when I had lunch at Betty’s today. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No. Not at all.” He handed her the basket, closed her door and laid his suit coat neatly across the backseat before finally getting behind the wheel.

Unsure of what he wanted her to do with the food, Dawn merely sat there on the smooth leather seat and held the basket on her lap.

“Well, aren’t you hungry?” Tim asked.

“Sure, but…you don’t intend for us to eat in the car, do you?”

“Why not?”

“Because. What if we spill something?”

“Are you a messy eater?” There was evident humor in his tone.

“Not usually.” She had to smile. “However, when I’m trying to keep from making a mess, it’s much harder not to. Murphy’s law, I guess.”

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t order spaghetti,” Tim said, laughing softly. “There are supposed to be three kinds of sandwiches in there, a couple of pickles and some cold bottles of sparkling water with lemon. Anything else was Betty’s idea.”

“Three kinds of sandwiches?” Dawn lifted the lid and peeked into the basket. “You must be really hungry.”

“I wasn’t sure what you liked and I wanted to cover all the bases, that’s all. We can eat what we want and toss the rest in the garbage.”

“Not on your life! Where I come from we don’t waste food.”

Tim started the car and pulled out onto Main Street. “Where do you come from? I didn’t notice that part of your personnel file when I reviewed it for your promotion.”

It struck Dawn as odd that anyone would choose to read a file for background information rather than talk to the person involved. But that was typical Tim Hamilton, wasn’t it? Typical, but sad.

“My family’s from Louisiana, down by New Orleans.” She decided to elaborate rather than have him think she was ashamed of her roots, which she wasn’t. “Dad worked on the docks. Mom used to clean houses to help out.”

“Are you from a big family like mine?”

“No. There are just two of us. My brother, Phillipe, and me.”

“I see. So, what brought you to Tennessee?”

“College. I got a wonderful scholarship to Central Tennessee University.”

“Really? That’s where my sister Melissa used to go to school.”

Dawn nodded. “I never could have afforded CTU if it hadn’t been for the scholarship. I was going to become an English teacher.”

“But you didn’t finish? Why not?”

“Phil, mostly. He had a terrible accident that left him paralyzed. Mom stays home now to take care of him and I do all I can to help them out. The medical bills were unbelievable. Still are. I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you if it hadn’t been for all that. It’s why I needed a full-time job.”

“You’re going to go back to school, aren’t you?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

“Maybe. Probably. I haven’t decided.”

“College is vital,” Tim said. “We were all upset when Melissa dropped out and took off.”

“She’s the baby of the family, isn’t she?”

“Yes. In more ways than her age.” He changed the subject with a nod toward the basket. “Aren’t you going to eat something?”

“I guess I should, since you went to all this trouble. What would you like?”

“Considering the morning I had, I think I’d better keep both hands on the wheel, don’t you? Go ahead without me. I can grab a bite while you’re getting your meals ready or whatever it is you need to do.”

“Okay.” Dawn lifted the hinged lid of the basket, took out the sandwich on top and bit into it. “Umm. Tuna. Delicious.”

She chewed and swallowed, then said, “First, I have a few things I need to do at my apartment. You can eat while I’m changing into something more comfortable.” Her cheeks burned the moment she realized the possible salacious interpretation of her innocent remark. “I meant, you can eat while you wait for me in the car.”

“Of course.”

A sidelong glance at her companion revealed a smile he was trying to subdue. Tim was laughing at her. Oh, not out loud because he was too polite, but he was laughing, all the same. She’d have to choose her words a lot more carefully in the future. Some English major she’d turned out to be! A few minutes alone with Timothy Hamilton and her normally quick wit had fled like a dry leaf in a Tennessee tornado. Although he’d earned the behind-the-scenes nickname, Typhoon Tim, because of his habit of approaching work with the speed of a whirlwind, this was one more reason the name fit. He’d certainly blown her away with his cordiality and innate charisma.

Dawn sighed in self-disgust and concentrated on finishing the first half of her sandwich. As she’d decided earlier, this was going to be a very, very long evening.

They’d crossed the Cumberland via Mill Road and were approaching the downtown area of Hickory Mills when Tim broke into her contemplation with a question. “Are we getting close?”

“Yes. My apartment is on Third, like I said, near the corner of Market.” She screwed the cap back on her bottle of water, then pointed. “You can turn here.”

Blotting her mouth with a paper napkin she placed the picnic basket on the seat between them. “This is it. Park anywhere along the street. I won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” Tim said pleasantly. “I’ll be right here, relaxing and enjoying my supper.”

He swung in parallel to the cracked curb, shut off the engine and got out to open the car door for her. By the time he’d circled the car, however, Dawn had already let herself out.

He stopped short, slipped his hands into his pockets and struck a nonchalant pose while he watched her disappear into the three-story brick building.

The woman was independent, that was for sure. Spunky. And she had the uncanny ability to make him laugh, something he did far too infrequently, especially lately.

She also had a depth of character he’d missed seeing until now. Although he disagreed with her decision to quit school, he understood why a person would do so in order to help his or her family.

If he and Dawn Leroux had nothing else in common they had that—a deep need to support and maintain the bonds of kinship. He certainly couldn’t fault her for that.

Dawn climbed the three flights of stairs and unlocked the door to her apartment. “Beau? I’m home. Where are you?”

The thump of the enormous brindle dog’s tail against the hardwood flooring echoed in the otherwise silent room. Dawn smiled as he rose, stretched and lumbered over to greet her. She was able to pat his broad head without reaching or bending. Phil had been fond of saying that a mastiff was a lazy man’s dog and Dawn had to agree. Not only was Beauregard so laid-back he rarely moved faster than a walk, he also remained quiet and calm in the face of almost anything, making him ideal for an apartment.

She snickered to herself as she led the dog down the back stairs and released him into the small yard that backed up to an overgrown drainage ditch. Why should Beau get excited? There wasn’t much he couldn’t handle if he had to. His mere size generally precluded the necessity to act. No human or animal in its right mind would challenge a dog with a muscled body the size of a pony, jaws as strong as an alligator’s and a tongue as broad as her palm.

Finished sniffing the grass and weeds, Beau returned to her as if they’d been together all his life. Dawn was thankful she’d been able to adopt him as a favor to her brother after Phil’s crippling accident. Their agreement had been for her to temporarily care for the big dog but, although it remained unsaid, Dawn and Phil both knew Beau would never go back to Louisiana.

She didn’t bother to leash him as they climbed the stairs together. Beau loved three things. Human companionship, food and naps, pretty much in that order. Since she was his best buddy and they were headed in the direction of his food dish, there was no chance Beau would stray.

As a matter of fact, he beat her to the door, pushed past her legs, headed straight for his dish and sat patiently waiting for his dinner.

Kibble rattled into the bowl as she poured from the bag of dog food before she gave him fresh drinking water.

He was crunching happily as she straightened and patted him on his broad, mottled-brown back. “Okay, baby, enjoy. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise. You be good while I’m gone, okay?”

His tail wagged faster in reply, though his nose remained buried in the food.

She laughed. “Good. Stay right there so you don’t accidentally get me dirty. I’m going to go change. I have not been having a very good day.”

The foolishness of conversing with a dog struck Dawn funny. Old Beau might not be a very good conversationalist but he sure was easy to talk to, wasn’t he?

It was just as well Beau wasn’t able to give sage advice, she reasoned as she proceeded to don jeans and a blue short-sleeved sweater and run a brush through her hair. If she could think of any way to get out of spending the evening driving around with her persnickety boss, she’d send him packing in a heartbeat.

Chapter Three

Northside Community Church was well known not only because of its place in the history of Hickory Mills and Davis Landing, but also because it had a reputation for running exemplary outreach programs. The community kitchen and its preparation of meals-on-wheels was one such endeavor. The youth program was another.

Behind the white-painted brick facade and wide, columned portico of the original, more traditional church sat a more modern complex of two-story buildings in which that kind of humanitarian work was carried on daily.

Tim had known about the programs before he’d become Dawn’s temporary chauffeur but seeing one of them in operation gave him further appreciation of all the effort that went into managing such important projects.

It also showed him how well-respected his administrative assistant was in the community. Although she was a Tennessee transplant, she’d apparently been totally accepted by everyone at Northside, natives included.

Watching her greet the other kitchen volunteers so fondly gave him pause. Clearly, there were places where she was more fully accepted than he was, even though he and his family were an integral part of the entire area’s history and current prosperity.

Dawn stood aside, tugged the hem of her short-sleeved sweater over her jeans to smooth it and motioned him to come on into the kitchen. “Ladies, you know Mr. Hamilton? I had car trouble tonight and he was kind enough to offer to drive me on my rounds. Wasn’t that nice of him?”

Amid a tittering chorus of welcome, Tim strode forward as if arriving at a board meeting and offered his most amiable smile. “A pleasure to meet you all,” he said. “Please, call me Tim.”

Shaking hands with those who weren’t too deep in kitchen cleanup to offer, he saw Dawn standing back, hesitating. His smile widened. “Yes, you, too, Ms. Leroux. I’m sure it won’t destroy office protocol if we’re more informal tonight. It’ll help your clients relax, especially since they probably haven’t met me before, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so.” She swallowed hard. “Um, Tim.”

Tim couldn’t help being amused by her obvious nervousness. The woman was practically quaking. What was the matter with her? Did she think he was going to say or do something inappropriate? He’d been to Northside often enough in the past to be familiar with Pastor Abernathy and a few of the regular parishoners, especially the ones he played golf with, so what in the world could be bothering Dawn? She’d seemed just fine when she’d arrived and begun greeting the other workers like long-lost sisters. Now, however, she seemed jittery, as if she couldn’t wait to get out of there.

She found her voice moments later and pointed. “Those insulated boxes on the end of the counter are ours. The dinners go inside. If you’ll help me carry them to the car we can be on our way.”

“Sure.” He bestowed amiable smiles all around, said, “If you ladies will excuse us,” and joined Dawn. In the background he imagined he heard audible sighs. Those poor women must be exhausted. He wondered if they worked there the whole day.

Following Dawn to the car with the stack of padded boxes he asked about it. “How long do those volunteers work? Is it an all-day shift?”

“We break it down into two, usually,” Dawn said. “The earlier shift is much larger. They do the majority of the cooking every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning. A different bunch puts together the evening meals and cleans the kitchen.”

She paused at the rear of his car while he opened the trunk. “Most meals are delivered earlier, between noon and two or three o’clock. That’s why there aren’t other drivers picking up now. And that’s why it was so hard to find someone to take my place. We only have a few regulars who like their food at suppertime and I’m able to handle all the ones in town. I work Monday and Wednesday nights. Amy drives the country route on Fridays.”

“I see.” He carefully arranged the boxes in the trunk before closing it and starting for the passenger door. Dawn was already there, had it open and was climbing in. Acting like the gentleman his mother had raised wasn’t easy where Dawn Leroux was concerned, was it? It didn’t matter to Tim whether or not their outing was for pleasure. He didn’t have to be dating the lady to want to treat her with propriety.

“I would have gotten that door for you,” Tim said, sliding behind the wheel.

“It’s not necessary. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

He gave her a lopsided smile. “I don’t doubt that for a second. What I meant was, it’s a simple courtesy. One I’m used to offering.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t think of it quite that way.”

Tim thought he detected an odd tinge of emotion in her tone as she turned to stare out the side window. He wondered if he’d embarrassed her. He certainly hadn’t meant to. He never had understood women, even though he’d grown up in a household with a mother and three sisters. Amy and Heather had never seemed to mind being treated with respect. Melissa? Well, that was another story. Melissa was a special case. She seemed to struggle with personal issues that didn’t faze the others.

“Who’s our first customer?” Tim asked, taking care to keep his tone light and friendly.

“Stuart Meyers,” Dawn said. “He lives alone in one of those shotgun houses all in a row down by the river. It’s not far. Go back the way we came and I’ll tell you when to turn.”

“Right. I haven’t heard anybody mention shotgun houses in years. Aren’t those the ones that are supposedly so small you can fire a shotgun in the front door and the shot will travel out the back door before the pattern spreads enough to hit anything?”

“I see you know something about history. Stuart will love you. How smart are you about The War?”

“Smart enough to know exactly what you mean and to not call it the Civil War unless I’m talking to a Yankee,” Tim said with a grin. “I was in school before I’d heard the conflict called anything but The War Between the States.”

“It was the same in Louisiana,” Dawn said. “Or The War for Southern Independence. That was always my favorite name for it.”

“That figures, since you’re so independent yourself. I know Tennessee provided troops to both the North and the South. Which does your Mr. Meyers favor?”

“He’s not fussy. He loves to argue both sides.” Dawn pointed. “Take that narrow road over there. Stuart’s is the second house on the right. The one that needs painting.”

Tim refrained from saying that he thought all the houses in sight were in serious need of maintenance, most of them too far gone to be saved by a simple coat of paint. He parked as instructed, then released the trunk latch from the driver’s seat before getting out.

He was standing at the rear of the car, trying to decide which meal package was which—or if there was any difference—when he noticed that Dawn had not yet joined him. Leaning to one side he peered around the raised trunk lid and saw her sitting primly right where he’d left her.

Was she waiting for him to open her door? Surely not. Not after all her insistence that she could do things herself. Maybe the latch was stuck or something. He was beside the passenger door in three strides, jerked it open without undue effort and stepped back.

Her face glowed and her blue eyes sparkled as she tilted her head to gaze up at him.