by Francis Ray
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Hamilton didn’t know what to do.
He was just as lost as ever in trying to reach Lorraine. He was thoroughly baffled. It was affecting his work. He glanced down at Reynard’s financial report. He was no closer to finishing up his recommendations than he was three days ago.
Reaching into his drawer, he flipped through one of the three books on menopause he’d purchased from the bookstore. Lorraine was certainly cranky and unpredictable, but she wasn’t having the night sweats. He was.
He slammed the book back. He wanted to make love to her, but was afraid she’d turn away from him and he was too big of a coward to push it. It would just be another wedge between them.
He’d just slumped back in his chair when his phone rang. He picked up the phone. “Hello?
“Hello, Dad.”
For the first time in days Hamilton experienced real joy. “Hi, son. Nice to know you haven’t forgotten us.”
Rich laughter flowed though the line. “Mother already beat you to making me feel bad for not calling regularly.”
Hamilton drummed his fingers on the report. “When did you speak to your mother?”
“Just before I called you.” Justin laughed again. “She was busy at the store, so we didn’t talk long.”
Hamilton jumped on the opening. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her. She’s busy all the time. I’ve asked her to give it up, but she won’t.”
“Whoa, Dad, calm down. I mean no disrespect, but Mother put her life on hold for all of us. If she wants to have a career now, I say let her go for it.”
“Go for it?” Hamilton repeated incredulously. “She doesn’t need the money and it takes time away from home and me.”
“Dad,” Justin said, then after a long paused continued, “it’s not the money. It’s the satisfaction of accomplishing something on your own, knowing you did it.”
Restless, Hamilton stood and paced in front of his desk. “Taking care of me and the house should be enough.”
“Some women, your daughters and the women I’m presently dating included, want a career and a marriage. Mother just wants her time in the sun,” Justin said. “We’re all pulling for her. Melissa and Stacy are both talking up the products to their friends.”
Hamilton didn’t have one ally. “You know as well as I do that the economy is worse than it’s been in years.”
“Yes, but certain businesses, like personal care, are booming and that’s exactly what I told Mother when she called about Bliss.”
“She called you?” Shock radiated from Hamilton.
“Yes, didn’t you know?” Justin asked, sounding worried.
Hamilton didn’t know if he felt more hurt or angry that she had listened to their son and not him. “No, but it doesn’t matter. Your mother loved the flowers you kids sent.” He would not let this ruin his relationship with his children.
“She told me.” Relief sounded in his son’s voice. “I have to run. Take care of yourself and let Mother try her wings a bit. She always supported us.”
“And you think it’s time we supported her?” Hamilton stopped and stared out the window at the bright blue sky.
“Yes. She deserves it.”
“If I could give Lorraine the world, I would,” he said, meaning every word.
“I know. Take her out to dinner tonight and tell her in case she’s forgotten,” Justin advised. “If it’s one thing I learned out here it’s that women don’t like to be taken for granted. Bye, Dad.”
Hamilton disconnected the call, then began pacing again. He was actually considering taking his son’s advice. That just showed how desperate he was. Although Justin certainly had an inordinate amount of practice dating, he had no concept of what it took for a relationship to work long-term. Hamilton would stay the course. Lorraine would come to her senses.
She had to.
* * *
“I don’t suppose we should expect you for dinner tonight,” Gray’s grandmother said, looking at him over the rim of her delicate porcelain cup.
Gray glanced up from eating his breakfast and merely lifted an eyebrow. Most people would back off. His grandmother wasn’t most people.
She sat her cup on a saucer rimmed with 24K gold. “Frankly, I was surprised you were still here when I came down to breakfast. You come home late and leave early.”
“I’ve always put in long hours,” Gray said, folding his napkin and placing it beside his plate.
“Do continue eating or I’ll be forced to get the answers out of you at the office instead of here,” she said, a sweet smile on her face that fooled no one. Behind it was a will of steel.
“What answers?” he asked although he had a pretty good idea what.
She eyed his plate of ham and grits, then lifted her gaze to his. Gray eyed her right back.
A sigh drifted from her lips. “You’re too much like me.”
He laughed.
“You haven’t eaten dinner at home all week and you haven’t gotten home before two in the morning.”
The laughter abruptly ended. He lived in a separate wing of the house, but he’d forgotten his grandmother had a keen sense of hearing and never rested until everyone was safely home.
“I’m not checking up on you, criticizing, or being nosey. I like Claire and I’m glad you’re finally settling down with one woman.”
Gray paused in reaching for his coffee cup. A mild panic swept through him. “I don’t think a few dates signifies settling down.”
His grandmother’s gaze didn’t waver. “Claire impressed me as the type of woman who’d want a committed relationship.”
No longer wanting the coffee, Gray gave her his full attention. “Grandmother, this is between me and Claire.”
“All women aren’t the same.”
His mouth flattened into a grim line. He didn’t want to talk or think about Jana. He didn’t want to remember what a fool he had been to believe she loved him or what that belief said about him. “Grandmother—”
“Don’t let what she did keep you from finding happiness with another woman,” she talked over him. “Nothing would give her greater pleasure. Although she knows you won’t take her back, she purposely keeps sending you those packages to disrupt your life so you can’t move on.”
And it upset his grandmother when it happened. Mess with a Livingston and you had her to deal with. She didn’t know about Jana’s latest maneuver and he planned on keeping it that way.
“Claire is a wonderful young woman.”
Gray fiddled with the spoon by his coffee cup. He liked Claire, but he had no intention of their relationship lasting. He’d played the fool once where a woman was concerned and didn’t plan to do so again. He’d trust Claire with anything … except his heart. “We’re just dating.”
His grandmother sat back in her chair. “Every night since the pre-opening.”
He tried to bluff. “Who says?”
“You do,” she said, then went on at his surprised expression. “You’re bubbling over with happiness. You whistle. You bound up the stairs at night.”
“So I’m happy,” he said, wondering if he’d just been going through the motions of living before Claire.
“She has a good heart, and although you’re my grandson and I love you, I don’t want you to break that heart.”
Astonishment mixed with anger flared in Gray’s eyes. “I’d never hurt Claire.”
“What do you think will happen when you decide it’s time to leave?”
His mind went blank. He couldn’t imagine not seeing Claire, not being with her, not seeing her smile.
His grandmother stood. “I admire Claire; I always have. If you don’t plan to stick around, then break it off now.”
“I won’t do that.”
Her face saddened. “Then both of you will be hurt.”
He frowned. “Both?”
Rounding the table, she palmed his cheek. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you care about Claire, a
nd the crush she had on you as a young girl has matured into a woman’s feelings. I could tell from the way she looked at you the night of the pre-opening. You’ll both lose unless you’re willing to accept the second chance God has given you.”
Gray’s eyes darkened. “I’ll never fall in love again.”
Her hand fell to her side. “You’re wrong about that, Gray, but you’ll have to learn that for yourself.”
Gray watched his grandmother walk away. What was she talking about? He knew his own mind. Love, a wife and family, wasn’t for him. It hurt too much when it fell apart.
* * *
Gray had thought long and hard since his talk with his grandmother that morning. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it was time to pull away. He didn’t want to hurt Claire. Picking up the phone in his study around one that afternoon he called to tell her he might not be able to make dinner that night. Something had come up.
She’d been disappointed, but she’d accepted the lie without question and had ended the conversation by telling him, “If you can come by later, just come. Don’t worry about the time. Just know I’ll be waiting.”
He had tried to work after the phone call, but he hadn’t been able to concentrate. He’d finally gone by the warehouse in Charleston, then the one in Columbia. It was almost six when he returned. He hadn’t been able to resist going to the third floor piazza and looking out at the lighthouse on Sullivan Island in the distance. His hands had gripped the iron balcony across the front. He longed for what he couldn’t have. Slow steps had taken him back downstairs. His grandmother was sitting down to dinner in the small dining room. Her lifted brow showed her surprise.
They talked about the upcoming Christmas catalogue and hiring part-time help for the holidays. Claire was not mentioned. The seared tuna had been tasteless, as was his favorite wine. Tired of pretending to eat, he’d excused himself and gone into the study to try to do the work he hadn’t done that morning. Their busiest season of the year was fast approaching and he had his mind on a woman instead of work. An uncomfortable first.
Determined to work, Gray opened the prospective items for the Christmas catalogue file, but after flipping through a couple of pages he caught himself staring at the Seth Thomas clock on his desk instead of the merchandise for the catalogue. He turned the clock around, only to turn it toward him again. He turned another page and saw an afghan that made him think of Claire curled up on her sofa or in bed reading. A candle set and he recalled them making love with only the light from the candles on her dresser. The yellow roses on the writing pad reminded him of the rose on his bed the first time they made love.
He slammed the book shut, then looked at the clock. 9:57. He didn’t want to be here; he wanted to be with Claire. So what was stopping him? Fear of hurting her, of getting in too deep? But was the edgy restlessness he felt any better? He surged from his desk and out the study’s door. He took the stairs two at a time. He didn’t stop until he stood in front of his grandmother’s door on the east wing of the second floor to knock.
“Come in, Gray.”
His mouth twisted wryly. He might have known. Opening the door he saw her sitting up, reading, in the hand-carved bed that his grandfather had made especially for them. “I’m going out and I may not be back until morning.”
Placing the book on her lap, she didn’t bat a lash. “Drive carefully, dear, and give Claire my best.”
Crossing the room, lavishly decorated in eighteen-century antiques, he kissed her on her unlined cheek. “Goodnight, Grandmother.”
“Goodnight, Gray.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
In a matter of minutes he was in his car and on the road. He didn’t call until he had crossed Ben Sawyer Bridge. The phone was picked up before the second ring.
“Hello.”
Just hearing her voice made the restlessness cease and his heart to race. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“It’s after ten. Are you hungry?”
“Just for you.”
“Then hurry.”
Gray disconnected the phone with one hand. Minutes later he pulled up in front of Claire’s house. Before the engine died, she was out the door and running toward him. He had barely closed the door before she was in his arms, her mouth on his. The kiss was hot, erotic. He wanted to kiss her all over and start again.
“I’d hoped you’d come,” she said, staring up at him in the moonlight.
He couldn’t stay away. Even as the thought formed in his brain he was kissing her again. She was worth the risk and, for the time being, he was taking it.
Inside the bedroom, need driving him, he quickly undressed them both. He’d take his time the next time he loved her. Now he needed her satin heat, needed her arms and legs locked around him, driving him, beckoning him, answering him.
Their completion came together. He lay there as the haze of passion drifted away, leaving an odd feeling. He shifted to lie on his side and draw her into his arms and kissed her on the head when he heard the even sound of her breathing. She was asleep. He smiled. He’d have to wait for seconds, he thought, then realized what the feeling was. Peace. He didn’t try to fight it or rationalize it or deny it. He simply pulled the covers up over them and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
“Domino!” Brooke exclaimed, slapping her last domino on the card table set up in the small den of John’s parents’ house Sunday afternoon. “And give me fifteen.”
“We win again, Grandpa,” Mark exclaimed as he grinned up at Brooke, then wrote down the score. “That’s four to nothing.”
Mr. Randle grunted, then narrowed his gaze at Brooke, who sat across the table grinning at him. “It’s impolite to gloat.”
She laughed. “I know, but I can’t help it. We’re awesome.”
“Awesome,” Amy repeated, sitting in Brooke’s lap, and clapping her hands since she’d gotten rid of the sling a few days before.
“If you want, Grandpa, I’ll be on your side,” Mark said slowly, obviously torn between wanting to be with Brooke and feeling sorry for his grandfather.
“Hiram.” It was one word, but his gaze went to his wife sitting on the sofa next to John watching the baseball game
Mark’s grandfather held out his left arm and Mark went to him. He hugged him tightly to his chest. “If I took you I’d have unfair advantage. I’m feeling a little sluggish from eating all your grandmother’s good chicken and dressing. Maybe I’ll take a rest and let your daddy have a go at it.”
John had been enjoying the interaction between Brooke and his family. She enjoyed them as much as they enjoyed her. She wasn’t the first woman his parents had invited to dinner in hopes of jump-starting a romance, but John couldn’t remember a single one of them that his children or his parents had taken to so quickly or been so happy to be around.
“How about it, John? Can you take her?”
Brooke blushed and John’s own body heated. Before he allowed his mind to remember all the times they’d made love, he rose to his feet. They’d met for breakfast every morning. Once they actually ate. He hadn’t seen her Saturday because he’d been busy working. He fully planned to make up for it when he followed her home tonight. “I’d consider it my pleasure.”
A warm flush spread up from the scooped neck of Brooke’s floral sundress. “You’re welcome to try.”
“We’re awesome, Daddy,” Amy said. Then she leaned toward him as he took his seat. “It’s OK to lose; Mrs. Johnson says so.”
John took his father’s seat and began shuffling the dominoes. “Your pre-kindergarten teacher is absolutely right. So when you, Mark and Brooke lose, I don’t want you to cry.”
“Ha!” Brooke cried. “Shuffle.”
John lost three straight in record time. Amy gave him a kiss to make him feel better. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too,” He told her, then set her down when she pushed against his chest. She promptly got back up in Brooke’s lap. They looked perfectly at ease with each other, thei
r heads close together, giggling at something Brooke whispered in his daughter’s ear. Mark eased up beside her chair and she hugged him to her side and had him laughing, too. They’d sat in a booth Friday night at a local burger joint and had had a wonderful time. It was as if they’d always known each other.
It was strange watching his children playing and happy with the same woman. Amy could make friends with a rock, but with Mark, it took longer. Not with Brooke. She had won him over from the beginning. John had always wondered what it would have been like if Linda had lived. She’d loved him and their children so much. She shouldn’t have died. She was too young and too good.
Brooke glanced over at John. The teasing smile on her face froze. She was taken aback by his hard, angry stare that drilled into her. Stunned, hurt, she came unsteadily to her feet. “It’s almost six. I should be going.”
John’s parents and the children protested. “Dinner was wonderful. Thank you for the invitation.” She set Amy on her feet, gave her a hug, then hugged Mark. “Be good, you two.”
“We enjoyed having you, Brooke,” Mrs. Randle said. “’Bout time Hiram learned a little humility.”
“I’ll get her next Sunday,” he said.
Brooke’s gaze flickered toward a silent, grim-faced John, who had stood when she had. “Thank you, but I may go home to Columbia. Goodbye.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.” John pushed the chair under the table.
“Not necessary.” She picked up her small Fendi clutch from the end table and headed for the front door. She’d hoped to escape, but she could feel John’s presence right behind her. She kept her head high and her steps unhurried, but there was nothing she could do about the tightness in her chest.
Deactivating the lock on the Jag, she reached for the door handle. John’s hand closed over hers, trapping her between him and the car. His body bowed over hers. Air hissed from her lungs. She trembled. Despite everything that had just happened, she couldn’t prevent her body from still wanting him.
