After the Dawn (6 page)

Her grandfather must have known and silently grieved for his family.

Her fingers ran lightly over the letters, and she blinked back tears. Her grandfather said he had regrets, but so had she. She'd wasted so much time being angry and missed knowing him better. One thing she'd learned in the past two weeks was that you couldn't go back; you could only move forward.

Opening the door, she came to an abrupt stop. Behind her grandfather's desk sat her uncle. He wore one of his expensive dark gray business suits. When he saw her, his facial expression morphed into annoyance.

She spoke first. “Good morning, Uncle Evan.”

“Good morning.” He glanced at the metal clock on the desk. “It's seven minutes past eight.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Sorry is just an excuse.” He pushed a file to one side. “Was there something you wanted?”

She frowned. “I thought this was Grandfather's office.”

“It was. It's mine now. That farce of a will didn't say anything about office space.”

Her grandfather's office was larger, more comfortable, than Evan's. And it would probably make people think he ran the company. “Of course. Is there a time you and I could go over the plant's operations?”

Laughing, he folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned back in his chair. “You want me to help you after what Daddy did to me?”

“You stand to gain as much as I do. You're a Collins,” she reasoned.

“Daddy seemed to have forgotten that fact.” His mouth flattened into a narrow line. “You're on your own.”

She'd suspected as much, but it was still difficult to hear and accept. “I know it's a shock, but the company needs you.”

He rose and came around the desk. “Daddy always loved William best. I had to live with knowing I was second. He denied me his love, and now he's doing it again. The company should have been mine. He put me in an untenable position. Once this gets out, I won't be able to hold my head up.”

She understood pride. “Maybe we don't have to make an official announcement,” she suggested.

“You mean that?”

She had a question of her own. “Are you going to help us?”

“Dillon can go straight to hell.”

The reference was too close to her own thoughts of going there. “We're not just talking about Dillon. If the plant closes, it will put people you've known for years out of work. The results will be felt by the town because of the decreased revenues. It will be a domino effect that will leave very few people in the town unaffected.”

“Daddy should have thought of that when he put you and Dillon over me,” he said angrily.

She loved her grandfather but hated the position he'd put her in. Her uncle and Dillon were both stubborn, and they disliked each other intensely. She was caught in the middle, trying to be a peacemaker. She hated conflict and did her best to avoid it.

How was she going to get them to see common ground … if Dillon ever came back? “Dillon is considering not accepting his inheritance,” she finally said.

“What?” Her uncle's eyes widened with greed.

“He's not interested,” she said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her slacks. He could at least have visited the plant.

Evan studied her. “He tell Boswell that?”

She realized what her uncle was hoping and really didn't want him to go off again, but she knew there was no way out of it. “Yes, but according to Granddad's will, neither one of us can sell or give away our interest in the company for five years.”

His mouth tightened. “So, we're stuck with Daddy's bastard.”

She bristled. “You shouldn't call him that.”

“I'll call him anything I damn well please.” Evan went behind his desk and took a seat.

“Uncle Evan, I need your help.”

His dark head lifted. “Agree to sign over your half in five years and I might consider it.”

She could understand pride, but this was greed. “If you don't help me, there might not be anything left in five years.”

“I'm willing to take that chance.” He picked up the folder. “You know where to find me.”

Dismissed, she left the office, closing the door softly behind her, having no idea what to do. The company had loyal employees who had been there since the beginning. They had no inkling that the company was in danger of closing. Trouble was, she was clueless on how to prevent it from happening.

She only knew she had to try.

The first thing she had to do was move from Houston to Elms Fork, another task she wasn't looking forward to.

*   *   *

At one that afternoon, Samantha pulled into a parking space at the
Houston Sentinel
newspaper. The usual three-hour drive had turned into four because of the heavy traffic just inside Houston's city limits. She would miss many things about Houston; the traffic and the humidity weren't two of them.

After grabbing her handbag and a corrugated box she'd picked up at Collins, Samantha quickly headed for the air-conditioned building. Inside, she checked through security and headed for her office on the third floor, going over the things she needed to take care of before leaving for good. One task in particular she wasn't looking forward to was saying good-bye to Mark Washington.

Stepping into the elevator, Samantha nodded to a couple of employees she'd seen around the building. On the short climb to her floor, her thoughts wandered back to Mark. They'd dated for three months. If it wasn't fireworks, she was comfortable with him and they got along well … until he'd been promoted to senior sportswriter seven months ago.

Suddenly he was gone more than he was in Houston. He loved the excitement of covering top sports events across the country, and she hated it. She wanted him there with her. She wasn't like her mother, quietly supporting her husband and taking care of the family while her man was gone more often than he was home.

Once she got over her annoyance, she realized she didn't mind the separation because she missed him; she minded because his job was more important than she was. It had been a startling revelation, one she hadn't been happy with. She hadn't thought she was that needy or that selfish. She was also a coward.

She'd used the old line about “our lives are going in two different directions” as the reason for breaking up with Mark instead of telling him the truth. She didn't love him deeply enough to accept his schedule and be happy for him.

Two steps off the elevator, Samantha came face-to-face with her boss, Isabel Knox, the features editor. In her early sixties, Isabel's auburn hair had turned gray. She had a moody disposition and a penchant for wearing strong colors that often clashed with her pale complexion—today she had on a lime-green suit. Her walls were filled with awards for her skills as a savvy newspaper reporter.

“Samantha, I'm so sorry to hear about your grandfather.” Isabel enveloped Samantha in a brief, awkward hug. “If there is anything we can do, please don't hesitate to let us know.”

“Thank you.” Isabel wasn't a people person, but she was a great editor. “Actually, I came back to resign.”

“Resign?” Up went Isabel's pencil-thin eyebrows.

“Can we talk in my office?” Samantha asked.

“Mine is closer.” Isabel entered her office, stepped aside for Samantha, and closed the door after her. “Now, what's going on? You're one of my best reporters.”

Samantha was taken aback. Isabel was miserly with praise but quick to rip an article or a reporter apart. “I am?”

Isabel waved a slim hand. “You're still here, aren't you?”

True, but it would have been nice to know she was doing a good job. Since newspaper reporting wasn't her first or second choice, she'd always worked doubly hard to do her best. She had pictured herself working for a high-fashion magazine in New York. She hadn't even gotten a response to her résumé.

“Why are you resigning?” Isabel asked, getting back to the point. “It doesn't have anything to do with you and Mark breaking up, does it?”

There were no secrets at the newspaper. “No. My grandfather left me part ownership of Collins Industry, a company he founded and was president of.”

“What kind of company?”

“We make turbochargers.”

Now Isabel was the one taken aback. “What do you know about turbochargers—or cars, for that matter?”

Add one more name to the growing list of people who thought she wasn't qualified to run Collins. “What I don't know I can learn. I'm sorry, but unfortunately I can't give you a two-week notice. Today I need to find a Realtor to sell my condo and hire a moving service. If possible, I plan to leave in the morning.”

“Can't someone else run this company? You have the piece with the mayor's homeless program coming up.”

“Family comes first,” Samantha said simply. The newspaper could easily assign someone else. That wasn't the case with Collins. She was it. She'd let her grandfather down by staying away; she wouldn't do it again. “He—he asked me just before he passed to run the company. There's no way I can walk away.”

“I suppose.” Isabel blew out a frustrated breath and folded her arms. “If you find you miss reporting, the door is always open.”

Samantha nodded. “That means a lot. Thank you and good-bye.” After leaving her boss's office, she went to hers, which was located at the end of the hall. There wasn't much to pack. She'd never been one for a lot of knickknacks.

Placing the box on the desk she always kept neat, she glanced around. She'd moved from a cubicle to a real office the same week she and Mark started dating. At the time, she'd thought it was a good sign. Shaking away the memory, she removed the awards for journalism and community service from the wall behind her desk. Next came the aloe vera plant that thrived despite her neglect.

Picking up the picture of her parents, she stared at their smiling faces and wondered if they would be proud of the person she'd become. She wasn't sure, and that bothered her. When she'd lost them, she'd turned her back on her family and the family business. She'd let grief and anger rule her every decision.

It had taken the loss of her grandfather for her to take a long hard look at her life. She didn't like what she saw.

Her door opened. She glanced over her shoulder. Mark Washington stood in the doorway, as if hesitant of his reception. His instincts were spot on. She wasn't in the mood for this, but she was afraid he wasn't going to give her a choice.

In his mid-thirties, the cuffs of his blue oxford shirt rolled over his wrists, he was tall and slender rather than muscular. Women at the newspaper thought he was handsome. Her traitorous mind speculated on what they'd think of Dillon.

“Why didn't you call and tell me you were coming home?”

No condolences, no “I'm glad to see you,” just accusations. Mark was also pragmatic. Once she hadn't minded. “I've had a lot on my mind.”

He cursed under his breath, then quickly crossed the room to take her into his arms. “I'm sorry to hear about your grandfather. I missed you so much. Missed us being together.”

Samantha briefly closed her eyes, searching for the spark of excitement at being held by a man she thought she loved, and felt … nothing. Dillon made her tingle with just a look.

Pushing out of his arms Samantha went behind her desk before speaking. “I'm resigning to run my grandfather's company.”

“What?” He rounded the desk to stand beside her. “You've got to be kidding me.”

She tossed a cup full of pens into the corrugated box. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

He took her arms, turned her toward him. “Don't be angry. You told me time and time again how much you disliked your grandfather's company, complained that it overshadowed your parents' lives and ruined yours.”

He was right. “Seeing Grandfather, talking with him during his last hours, made me realize a lot about myself, my parents, and the company. I was angry with everyone when my parents were killed, and I transferred that anger to the town, the company, my grandfather. I was wrong. My father loved Collins. I won't turn my back on the company.”

“All right.” He nodded slowly. “I can probably drive down in a couple of weeks—”

“No.” She stepped away. “I'm sorry, Mark. It's over between us. You're a great friend—”

“We were more than friends,” he interrupted.

“Once.” Her smile was sad. “I'd like for us to always be friends.”

His mouth narrowed into a thin line. “This is not what I wanted between us.”

“It's the way it has to be. Good-bye, Mark.”

He went to the door. “I won't say good-bye. You know how to find me.”

Samantha sighed as the door shut a little too firmly. Another man she'd ticked off. She reached for her tape recorder and continued to clean out her desk and office.

Both her uncle and Mark expected her to change her mind and give in. They were in for a long wait.

 

Three

Some things you ignored. A red light on the dashboard of your car wasn't one of them.

Wednesday afternoon, a mile inside Elms Fork city limits, Samantha gripped the steering wheel and called her automobile service. In a matter of minutes, she was creeping toward Montgomery Garage with her caution lights on. Well aware of how long she might have to wait for a tow truck, she'd decided to chance damaging the car.

Out of nowhere, she remembered Isabel's and Mark's comments about her not knowing anything about cars. She gritted her teeth and flicked on her signal to turn into the garage.

She counted nine bays. All were full, and more cars were in the parking lot. Samantha backed into the first available parking spot, proud that she'd considered giving them enough space when they looked under the hood or had to push the car into one of the bays.