by Jenna Harte
“Why here?” Drake couldn’t hide his bafflement. Charlotte Tavern, Virginia, was in the middle of nowhere. How’d Oliver even know of it?
“I grew up here. My happiest days were spent here.”
The fact that Drake hadn’t known that, or anything about his grandfather’s life beyond business, was another reminder of what Oliver thought was most important. It hadn’t been family.
Drake scanned the room. It wasn’t originally a bedroom. The walls of oak bookshelves in the dark green room with burgundy curtains suggested it had once been a library. Now, it was a hospice suite, where Oliver lay in a hospital bed surrounded by medical equipment and supplies, and a bedside table with enough pill bottles to stock a pharmacy.
Oliver’s usually sharp gray eyes softened and dimmed in a way Drake had never witnessed before. “This illness has taught me a hard lesson, Drake. Lexie is right. I can’t take my money with me. I worked my whole life for money and prestige and, in the end, it’s worthless. In fact, when I left New York, I took only the clothes on my back and the contents of that box.”
Drake’s gaze followed Oliver’s finger pointing toward an antique box on a shelf.
“At the end of my life, the only things that matter are in that box. You’ll notice what’s not in it. The business.”
Nor family.
“Take some advice from a dying man. Forget the business and find true happiness instead.”
Drake was not often surprised, but for the second time in only ten minutes, he was rendered speechless.
“Never thought you’d hear me say that, did you, boy?”
“No.”
“You’d be wise to listen to me now. I wasn’t a very good grandfather or caregiver, but I can tell you this, when you’re dying, money means nothing. I’ve had a lot of time lying in this bed to reflect on my life, and I’m not happy with what I’ve realized. I have way too many regrets. Don’t let that happen to you.”
“I’m happy working at Carmichael.”
Oliver gave him a long, assessing look. “Are you sure you know what happiness is? You certainly didn’t learn it from your family.”
Drake didn’t like the unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I know I want to be a success at running Carmichael Corporation, and I need your help with that.” He watched his grandfather closely, searching for disapproval in the old man’s eyes.
As expected, disappointment appeared on Oliver’s face. He had never tolerated weakness in his family and asking for help was definitely a weakness. “If you can’t figure out how to run the company, perhaps you shouldn’t be there.”
Although he’d anticipated it, the barb still hurt. “I can run the company just fine. What doesn’t work is the two of us running it together. Derrick and I have very different views—”
“So that’s why you’re here? You’re hoping I’ll turn the reins over to you and leave Derrick out?”
“Leaving us without any guidelines on how you intend it to pass will ruin it and us.”
“So maybe I should it give to Derrick.”
This wasn’t a jab as much as a challenge. All his life, Drake had the threat of Oliver choosing his twin brother, Derrick, over him, just as Derrick had the threat of losing out to Drake. And, as always happened, Drake stepped up to the challenge. He wanted the business.
He’d learned a lot about business from his grandfather, but he also studied all the new business designs and strategies. He was sure he could bring the business further with his vision. But Derrick stopped him at every turn, which wasn’t hard to do since he also had the ear of the management and board, where decisions were made. So while Drake had the support and loyalty of the staff, nothing could get done without the go ahead from the management and board, who lacked vision and mocked innovation. Everything was at a stalemate.
“Marla Hines quit.” Marla had been Oliver’s long-time administrative assistant and number one gatekeeper.
“What?”
“I have her letter of resignation, if you want to read it. She said she’d end up killing Derrick, or herself, so the best thing to do was quit.”
Oliver laughed. “She threatened me with that a few times.”
“This time, she followed through.” Drake struggled to find the words to make Oliver understand without undermining his position. “Morale is low, and nothing is getting done. We need your help to calm the situation. You left without any word or direction. You can at least help us get the roles ironed out.”
“I’m not going to New York.” Oliver’s tone was final.
Drake inhaled a long, calming breath. “Fine. I’ll stay here. I’ll work with you here. We can use web and teleconferencing to work with Derrick.”
Oliver’s eyes widened, then he smirked. “How will you ever survive away from city life?”
Drake wondered that too. Rural Virginia was nice enough, but he was a New Yorker through and through. He liked the energy and pace of the city. Charlotte Tavern, though quaint, didn’t appear to offer much after dark. It would be a sacrifice, but he needed his grandfather’s help in containing Derrick. And maybe, by doing so, he could insure his own succession.
“I’ll manage.”
Oliver studied him for a minute. “You’re sure you don’t want to make your break too? There is more to life than expensive wine and women.”
Drake held firm. “I’m sure.”
“You have to convince Lexie I’m up to it. She won’t want me having undue stress.”
Drake bit the inside of his lip. Was Lexie’s role more than a nurse and gatekeeper? Had she charmed his grandfather into developing a deeper relationship? “As an employee, she shouldn’t have any say about what you do.”
Oliver smirked. “I hired her to make my life easy. She’s good at it, too.”
Drake nodded, even though he still had concerns about Lexie’s intentions. “Fine. I’ll talk to her.”
“Good. Now, get out. I need my rest.”
Drake stood outside Oliver’s room, gathering his thoughts. He hadn’t been prepared for how sick his grandfather appeared. When he’d gotten the call that his grandfather was dying, Drake didn’t believe it. Oliver was larger than life. He’d been known to engage in elaborate schemes to get what he wanted. Faking an illness wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. Oliver left New York without a word, leaving Drake and Derrick floundering and fighting for control. In Drake’s mind, it had been a test to determine which brother was prepared to take control of the company. It was a test Drake worried he’d fail by flying down to Charlotte Tavern to confront his grandfather. He still wasn’t convinced he wasn’t being tested, but Oliver’s illness and prognosis were true. As a result, Drake’s mission was more important than ever. Oliver couldn’t die without doing something to secure Carmichael Corporation’s future.
Drake’s next step was to talk to Oliver’s nurse. That rankled. He wasn’t the type of man who asked permission. Having to ask her permission didn’t annoy him as much as the way he’d been caught off guard by her brazenness and how her emerald eyes stared into the depths of his soul when she challenged him. He could tell she was a woman who went after what she wanted, and Drake wondered if she was after Oliver’s money. Although Oliver appeared to have all his faculties, he also seemed overly fond of his nurse. Maybe this trip wasn’t going to just be about securing Carmichael Corporation’s future, but also about protecting Oliver from a gold digger.
He started up the hall in search of Lexie, stopping outside a door when he heard two women talking. He recognized one of the voices as Lexie’s and tried to ignore what it meant that after one three-minute confrontation, he’d know her soft southern voice so well. He rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath to build up his guard. Nurse Lexie’s bravado and scrutinizing green eyes wouldn’t faze him this time.
He pushed through the swinging door into a large, warm kitchen. Like the other parts of the home he’d seen so far, the kitchen retained the early twentieth-century charm it had been
built in, yet it was updated with modern appliances. The walls were a buttery-yellow accented by clean, white cabinets. Light from the afternoon sun shone through two large windows, giving the room a welcoming, homey feel. At least, that’s what Drake suspected welcoming and homey looked like. The home he grew up in with Oliver was probably as old as this house, but it had been stark and bleak.
Lexie’s back was to him as she picked up a pot and began drying it, oblivious to his entrance.
“How particular are you about where these pots go?” She bent over to put the pot away, and he eyed her petite frame which nearly fit inside the cupboard as she tried to make room for the pot.
“You must be the grandson.” The voice came from the other side of the room. Drake dragged his gaze away from Lexie to the other woman staring at him through large, round glasses too big for her fifty-something face.
Lexie stood and looked at him. Then she smiled, and the brilliance of it hit him hard in the chest. “Oh, hey. So, you staying or did he scare you away?”
“He tried.”
Lexie turned to the other woman. “Claire, this is Oliver’s grandson, Drake Carmichael. This is Claire Hutchins. She does the cooking and cleaning around here.”
“Nice to meet you.” Drake extended his hand to the other woman.
“You too.” There was a coolness, even suspiciousness to her tone that made Drake feel she didn’t mean it.
“Want a cookie and some sweet tea? Claire and I were just about to take a little break.” Lexie turned her back to him again to reach into the top cupboard for glasses. As she did, her white sleeveless blouse rose to reveal soft-looking skin along her lower back, making Drake think of peaches and cream.
She turned back to him, with glasses in hand, her brows lifting. “You look a little warm, so I’ll take that as a yes.”
He was warm. He rubbed the back of his neck and rolled the tension from his shoulders. It must be the heat and humidity. His mind told him that was a lie. There was something sensual and beguiling about Nurse Lexie with her emerald eyes and stunning smile. The fact Drake found himself bewitched added to his concern that Oliver had fallen under her spell as well. “Sure.”
Lexie put the glasses on the table while Claire got the cookies and pitcher of tea.
“It’s mint tea.” Lexie took the pitcher from Claire. “I suppose y’all have all sorts of flavors in New York. We have some other flavors here too, but true Southerners only drink mint or lemon.”
He pulled out a chair from the table and sat.
Lexie handed him a glass and then sat across from him, giving him another one of those brilliant smiles. He picked up the glass and swallowed the contents.
“Have a cookie too.” She pushed the plate of cookies in front of him. “They’re pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” Claire’s tone was laced with annoyance.
“Considering they need to be healthy for Oliver, they’re good,” Lexie clarified, refilling Drake’s glass. “Besides, it’s been extra humid lately. That always affects baking.”
Drake picked up a cookie and bit. He knew cookies, and he wouldn’t have called the cardboard he bit into “pretty good.” He tasted the healthy in this crunchy, almost tasteless biscuit. As he chewed, he realized both women watched him expectantly. He managed a small smile. “Pretty good.”
Claire made a noise of exasperation but didn’t say anything.
“Nothing a little less cooking time couldn’t fix,” he added helpfully.
“Who are you, Betty Crocker?” Claire’s miffed voice matched the irritation in her eyes.
Lexie laughed. “You know, Claire, I think he’s right. They’re too crunchy.”
“I like crunchy cookies.” Claire turned her annoyed glare toward Lexie.
“Well, then they’re just right, aren’t they, Mr. Carmichael?” Lexie’s eyes shone with delight, and he found himself ensnared by her again. “By the way, I’m sorry about that ‘where have you been’ comment earlier. It’s just your grandfather was in the hospital for nearly two weeks without a single visitor or call. That’s just not right.”
“He’s been here nearly a month.” Claire didn’t hide her contempt.
“He didn’t want us to visit.” Drake sipped the tea. This time, he tasted the mint and sugar. He wished it was something stronger, 100-proof stronger, but at least it washed away the dry cookie.
Silence had him looking at Lexie and Claire. They regarded him as if he wore a dunce cap.
“The hospital called you.” Lexie let him know his excuse wasn’t acceptable.
“His letter said not to contact him.”
The women shared a look of “can you believe this guy?”
“So, why are you here now?” Claire asked.
“Because I need his help.”
“Figures,” Claire mumbled.
“What?” Drake’s annoyance matched that of the two women glaring at him. He didn’t need to explain or apologize for his behavior.
“Mr. Carmichael, your grandfather’s dying. I may joke around with him about it, but he only has a few months, if that. It seems like that would be worthy of a visit from you and your brother, regardless of your ‘need.’”
“I understand that.” Drake didn’t like being scolded, but it helped distract him from her beguiling smile and charm.
“He spoiled those boys.” Claire spoke as if he weren’t in the room. “Wanting something more, even though their granddaddy has one foot in the grave.”
“Wait a minute.” Drake reset his bearings. “This is his business. He started it and has run for over sixty years. Then he just threw it in our laps and disappeared.”
Claire sent him a scathing look while Lexie’s eyes narrowed, assessing. “Surely, you and your brother had training and know how to run a business.”
“It’s more complicated than that.” Why was he defending himself to these women? It wasn’t any of their business what he did or didn’t do. They worked for Oliver, for God’s sake. And what did they know about the family, the business? To them, Oliver was a dying man. But Drake knew better. Oliver didn’t care about sentiment. As far as family obligations went, his duty was to the business because that’s what Oliver raised him to do.
“You need to figure it out because your grandfather’s not in a position to help you.”
Drake heard the finality in Lexie’s tone but ignored it. “He’s already agreed to help.”
“Ah, lordy, here it comes.” Claire got up from the table.
Lexie’s gaze challenged his. “Well, then you tell him you don’t need his help after all.”
“I can’t do that.” He wouldn’t do that. Too much was at stake, and there was nothing Nurse Lexie and her sidekick could do to keep him from his mission.
“Then I will.” She got up and moved toward the kitchen door.
“No, you won’t.” His voice was calm, but he moved fast, standing and grasping her arm as she passed him, causing her to swing around and nearly run into his body.
“Now wait—”
“No. It’s okay, Claire.” Lexie turned her sharp green eyes on him. “I’m sure the women in New York love it when you manhandle them, Mr. Carmichael, but I don’t. I may look small, but I assure you, I’m very strong.”
He released her but continued to block her exit. This time, he was the one with the firm and final tone. “Men in the south may not mind the hired help telling them how to run their affairs, but I do. It’s his responsibility to help fix this. I have agreed to work with him here, and I’ll work around his schedule but, make no mistake, he will help me.”
Chapter Three
Lexie stared defiantly into Drake’s eyes. She hoped she exuded bravado because she certainly didn’t feel brave. Although, what would it matter? The way the words “hired help” dripped condescendingly from his lips made it clear what he thought of her and Claire. He wasn’t wrong. She was Oliver’s employee. One that had been hired to make his last days peaceful. If that meant keeping Drake a
way, she’d do her job.
First, she had to extricate her arm from his grip. She hadn’t been frightened by his grabbing her as much as she was caught off guard by the zap of electricity it brought. She told herself it was anger at his gall that had every neuron in her body firing.
“You look like a competent man.” She pulled her arm free. “I’m sure you and your brother can figure out some meaningless business problem.”
“This meaningless problem affects thousands of people who rely on Oliver’s business to feed their children. You don’t want people losing their jobs when Oliver can easily help, do you?”
Lexie didn’t want that, and if Oliver had left without making provisions, then he really should do something. But he’d come here to die in peace, to get away from the life that held no meaning to him anymore. On the other hand, if Drake stayed, maybe Oliver would be able to make peace with his family.
“Okay. But you work with him under my terms.”
“Fine.”
They glared at each other until the intensity became intolerable. Lexie turned away, annoyed at herself for flinching first. “Claire, is the master bedroom upstairs usable for Mr. Carmichael?”
“I can stay in a hotel.”
Lexie turned back to him but avoided his eyes. “You’ll be limited to short bits of time throughout the day. It would be easier if you stayed here.” Even as she said it, she was thinking it was a bad idea. Being around him day and night was going to drive her crazy.
“Alright.” It was clear he wasn’t too thrilled about being cooped up with her either.
“Great,” Claire muttered. “I’ll get it ready now. Then I have to run to the store.”
“I need to check on your grandfather. You can finish your tea and cookies. When Claire is done, I’ll show you where you can stay.”
Lexie knew Oliver was sleeping, but she used the time to check on him to gather her wits. She knew she was often too outspoken and contrary because her mama had told her so her whole life. But if she was going to make sure Oliver got the peace he wanted and time with Drake, she’d need to bite her tongue more than usual. It wouldn’t be easy. Drake pushed all her buttons and then some. She never responded well to arrogance and definitely not to manhandling.
