by Jenna Harte
“Since when does Derrick abide by the rules? The thing is, he’s garnering support for it. They’re the lowest performing stores.”
Drake dropped his head back and closed his eyes as the headache that had been threatening since he entered the house came on full force. He knew which stores Derrick wanted to close. He also knew they were the lowest performing stores because they were in the poorest communities. Communities that needed the affordability and jobs Carmichael stores offered.
“Drake? How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
“I don’t know.”
“If you intend to have something to come back to, I’d make this trip as short as possible. I know that sounds horrible. You should stay with Oliver in his last days, but—”
“Oliver doesn’t want me here. Besides, he’d want me to put the business first.”
“Yes. He always did have his priorities backward. Send him my best.”
Once Drake finished the call, he connected his computer to his cell phone and accessed Carmichael Corporation’s intranet to see what damage Derrick had already done.
At 5:30 p.m., Lexie went to let Drake know supper was ready. He sat at the desk, hunched over a laptop, staring at the screen while he spoke on his cell phone. He’d removed his coat and rolled his expensive silk shirtsleeves up to reveal tanned arms. She’d pictured him as someone who worked sixteen hours a day, which would make it hard to get a tan. Tanning salons. Men like him wore expensive clothes, got manicures, and probably went to tanning salons. But she couldn’t deny it was attractive.
His shoulders were broad and his white shirt was pulled tight across his back. Were they strong? Actually, she wondered a lot of things about her boss’s grandson. Was that hard chest she poked at earlier sculpted, or did he forgo the gym in favor of the office? Did he have chest hair in the same dark color speckling his arms? If he worked sixteen hours a day, how many women could answer these questions? And why did she care? He might be handsome, but he was greedy and rude.
He jabbed his index finger at the screen of his phone and then tossed it on the desk with a curse. He sat back, running his long fingers through his dark hair.
“Supper’s ready.”
He jerked and turned to her.
“I’m sorry if I startled you.”
He shook his head. “I was thinking.”
“Bad day at the office?” She leaned against the entryway frame. He was still tense and broody, but less keyed up. She got the feeling something weighed heavy on his mind. She wished it was Oliver’s impending death. But in the short time she knew Drake, she learned his woes were about business. It made her feel sorry for all that he’d miss in the short time he had left with his grandfather because his priorities were out of whack.
“Bad enough.”
“After supper, you’ll be able to have some time with Oliver if he’s up to it.” She clasped her hands in front of her to keep from following through on the sudden urge to massage away the tension in his shoulders.
He nodded. “Good.” He stood and rolled the sleeves of his shirt back down. Strength showed in his forearms as the muscles tightened and bunched. Not wanting to get caught ogling, Lexie straightened and started to turn.
“How much time does he have?”
Seriously? She whirled on him, unable to contain her anger. “Well, how much time do you need to secure your fortune, Mr. Carmichael?”
His eyes narrowed.
“Is that all you care about? Your money? Your business?”
“And what do you care about? Did you see a wealthy dying man in your hospital and turn on that southern charm so he’d hire you? What do you think you’ll get from the deal?” His voice was steady, but his tone held a dark edge.
What is he talking about?
“How much money are you hoping to get from him?”
She stared at him for a long moment, at first because she didn’t understand the question. But when she did realize what he meant, she laughed. A deep belly laugh that had her doubling over and tears streaming from her eyes. “That’s funny. Me, a gold digger.”
“It’s not funny. You’ve got debt up to your ears. Why is it you haven’t been able to keep a job for more than a few years?”
She told herself not to be angry he’d checked up on her. She’d have probably done the same in his position. Still, she didn’t like her character questioned. “You sound like my mother. Only my mother would say, ‘Lexie, sugar, why don’t you stay in a job?’ I can keep a job. I just haven’t liked most of the jobs I’ve had.”
“Because it’s easier to not work. To live off a rich, old man.”
Her jaw dropped open and then snapped shut. “You don’t think I work?” The guy with the silver spoon whining about competing with his brother was calling her a lazy gold digger.
“Eating dry cookies, sipping mint tea, and spending someone else’s money to fix up a house he won’t live to enjoy isn’t work.” He stared down on her, calm, cool, and collected, dismissing all the work she did to keep Oliver comfortable and in relative good spirits, which was difficult because he was in constant pain that would end only when he died.
“Do I really look like a gold digger to you?” She held her arms out to the side, inviting him to take a look. For good measure, she even gave him a twirl. When she finished, she looked for confirmation she didn’t have what it took to be a seductress.
His jaw clenched and heat flashed in his eyes. Her mouth went dry as his dark gaze bore down on her. He stepped up to her as he’d done when they first met, towering over her so close she could feel the heat emanating off of him. “Yes, you do.” The cool detachment in his voice was gone, replaced by a harsh, edgy tone.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. Maybe he wasn’t out of line. She had made cracks about taking Oliver’s money and, clearly, in Drake’s world, money was more important than family, caring, and compassion.
Reining in her outrage, she took a calming breath. “I receive the salary Oliver and I agreed upon. I don’t want more and wouldn’t take more.”
Drake didn’t respond. He simply stared at her with cold gray eyes. Wanting to avoid another staring contest, she stepped back. “If we have that settled, maybe now we can have supper. We’ll be in Oliver’s room when you’re ready.”
Once out of the beau parlor, Lexie let out a long breath. How long was Drake going to stay, and would she survive it?
Chapter Five
Drake stared at the spot Lexie had just vacated. What the hell was wrong with him? She was an annoying, judgmental woman, so why had his mouth gone dry and his heart rate jumped when she gave him that coy smile and turned around? Because, as small as she was, her body was firm and lush. He was a man, after all. But hell, he couldn’t remember having such a visceral reaction to a woman before, and he’d seen a lot of beautiful women. Models, even. Many had aroused him, but never while wearing cropped pants and floral sneakers, and taking him to task about his family.
If he wasn’t mistaken, the intensity of his reaction scared her off. Just as well. If she’d shown interest, eventually, he’d be hard pressed to resist her, not because he lacked willpower or control. No, he had those traits in spades, but he enjoyed women and knew how a good round of sex could ease tension. Right now, he had a lot of tension and Lexie caused much of it.
He finished buttoning his cuffs and then picked up his coat, not for formality, but to hide any lingering proof of his reaction, and headed back to his grandfather’s room. It was the second time that day Drake had seen Oliver, but the sight of him, frail and gaunt, still shocked him. His grandfather sat in a wheelchair at a table on which four plates of food already sat.
“You can sit here.” Lexie motioned to a chair without looking at him. He sat in the chair indicated across from his grandfather.
“What’ll you have to drink?” Claire’s tone indicated she still didn’t think much of him.
“Water.”
“Well, you better be talking about tap water b
ecause we don’t have that overpriced imported water.”
“Tap water is fine.” He and his grandfather sat in silence as Lexie helped Claire with the drinks.
“Well.” Lexie settled into her chair. “This is nice. You two must be happy to be eating as a family again.”
Drake and Oliver looked at each other.
“This is a first,” Drake said, matter-of-factly.
“We never ate as a family,” Oliver explained.
“Never?”
Drake wasn’t sure if Lexie was shocked or horrified. Probably both. No doubt she came from one of those intact families that ate every meal together.
“I was at the office most nights until nine or ten, and your grandmother was off with Raoul or Philippe or whoever she was sleeping with at the time.”
Drake nodded. It was clear by Lexie’s grimace and Claire’s wide eyes that his childhood meal times were far from normal.
“Who did you eat with?” Oliver asked, his eyes shining with genuine interest.
“Derrick until we were thirteen and realized we didn’t like each other anymore. Then he ate in his room, and I ate with Mrs. Monceau.”
“The help?”
Did his grandfather realize they were currently eating with the help? “Yes.”
“No wonder you always had a soft spot for our employees.”
Drake glanced at Lexie, curious to her reaction. If she had one, she hid it well.
The entire situation was surreal. The nurse, the cook, and his grandfather eating together like a family. They bickered like one too, but not in the hurtful way Drake had grown up with. Crazier still was how his grandfather put up with the way his employees were talking to him. Perhaps his illness had changed him.
“You haven’t touched your greens.” Claire motioned to Drake’s plate with her fork.
“My what?”
“Greens. Collard greens.”
“Is that what that is?” He’d hoped the green pile on his plate was a garnish.
“It’s good for you.” The twinkle in Lexie’s eye told him she was baiting him.
“Don’t let them fool you, Drake. I didn’t like them as a kid, and I don’t like them now,” Oliver said.
“Wait until he tries the grits.” Lexie grinned.
“And fried okra,” Claire added.
“Oh, yes. Okra.” Oliver’s cackle turned into a violent, rapid cough.
Lexie leapt from her chair to attend to him. “I think it should be boiled though.”
Drake was confused. Boil what?
“I was thinking with stewed tomatoes.” Claire took a bite of her greens.
What the hell? His grandfather was about to die in his dinner and the women were talking about food.
Lexie looked at Oliver as his coughing subsided. “What do you think, Oliver? Fried or boiled?”
Oliver wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I used to like it with bacon and hot peppers.”
Lexie smiled. “That sounds good. Can you do that, Claire? Without the hot peppers, of course.”
“I like the hot peppers. I’m dying and I want hot peppers.”
Drake shook his head. Was his grandfather really pouting?
“We’ll see.” Lexie sat in her chair and resumed eating. “Oliver, did your family eat together when you were growing up?”
“Of course. My mother fixed every meal for all of us. My older siblings were mostly gone by then. They were a lot older than me. My mother would say, ‘Oliver, we didn’t plan you, but we love you anyway.’” He laughed.
Drake stared gobsmacked at the man who’d once told him sentiment was for the weak-minded.
“We ate breakfast, dinner, and supper together. Sometimes, I ate dessert in the beau parlor with Kitty Jackson. She was something, that Kitty.”
“What happened?” Lexie asked.
“Kitty and I were promised. After college, I was going to marry her, but I was antsy and couldn’t wait to get out of Charlotte Tavern. It was smaller then, you know. Oh, it had the university all right, but there really wasn’t much else going on. Not like today. Anyway, I went to college in New York. I got an internship my junior year and never came back. And Kitty wasn’t a city girl.”
“You mean not rich and sophisticated.” Oliver couldn’t fool Drake with a story about true love. This earned him a chastising look from Lexie, but he ignored it.
Oliver gave a slight nod, acknowledging Drake’s comment. “I was a man with the world at his feet. A bright future. So I married Caroline who, yes, was rich and came from a prestigious family.”
“What happened to Kitty?” Claire stopped mid-bite, apparently more curious about Oliver’s love life.
“She married my ex-buddy, Joseph Hawly.”
“Kit Hawly?” Claire lowered her fork and sat back in surprise.
“Yes, that’s her. You know, my biggest regret is not marrying her. I really did love her. I’m over ninety and have never once made love to the woman I was in love with.”
Drake choked on his chicken. Claire reached over and thumped his back.
“Didn’t you love Caroline?” Lexie’s voice was soft, nearly dreamy, suggesting she was a woman who liked romance and believed in fairytales. “I liked her alright at first, but it wasn’t love. You know, back then, you didn’t sleep with women before marriage, at least not with the ones you were going to marry. So I never slept with Kitty. I wonder if there’s sex in Heaven.”
“Surely, there must be,” Lexie said.
Drake gaped at Lexie. Was she really discussing sex with his grandfather?
“That’s where she is now. Heaven. She died about twenty years ago.” Oliver looked down. Drake couldn’t be sure if it was sadness or regret that had his grandfather looking forlorn. Maybe both. Either way, this was a man Drake had never seen before. But Drake wasn’t fooled. If Oliver had a heart, it turned to stone long ago. He hadn’t loved his wife, his son, or his grandsons.
“Do you think you’ll go to Heaven?”
Claire gasped, and Lexie sent him the evil eye.
“As long as I have breath, I have time to redeem myself.” Oliver looked intently at Drake with an expression that made him wonder if Oliver’s redemption was in his hands.
Chapter Six
Lexie sat on the porch swing, one leg idly pushing her back and forth, the other tucked under her as she wrote in her notebook. Oliver was settled and meeting with Drake. Claire was finishing up her duties. This was the time of day Lexie enjoyed the most. Since the sun was setting, the humid air wasn’t as stifling, making the porch an ideal spot for time to herself and to journal her thoughts of the day. The sound of the front door opening caused her to look up.
“Claire said you’d be out here.” Drake moved toward her but didn’t sit next to her. Instead¸ he leaned against the railing and stared at her. “She says you spend every evening out here.”
He’d asked Claire about her, suggesting he’d been looking for her. A quick scan of his features showed that he appeared relaxed and not in button-pushing mode. So she relaxed, hoping he was extending an olive branch of friendship. After all, they were living under the same roof for the time being.
“Yes. I love it. The heat isn’t suffocating, and the colors as the sun goes down are gorgeous. Did Oliver get tired of working?”
“Jeopardy is on.” He shook his head. Drake seemed baffled by the man his grandfather had become.
Lexie laughed. “He says just because he’s dying, there’s no reason not to keep his brain active. He likes to play Scrabble too.”
“Can I ask you something about Oliver without you coming down on me?”
She sighed, closed her journal, and readied for another row. “He’s very ill.”
“I get that. What does he have?”
Lexie moved to the edge of the swing, giving Drake as much room as she could. “Why don’t you sit?”
For a minute, she thought he’d refuse, but then he sat on the opposite end.
“He has lung cancer.”<
br />
He frowned and turned to her, his gray eyes looking puzzled. “Lung cancer? I don’t remember him ever smoking.”
She shrugged. “It happens.”
“So, what’s going to happen?”
“Cancer is painful.” Lexie went into nurse mode, trying to be gentle yet practical. Drake struck her as a man who’d prefer the stark truth. Like pulling a Band-Aid off in one fell swoop rather than trying to lessen, yet prolong the pain. “Much of my job is managing the pain. He has regular doses of medicine to help.”
Drake looked down at the clasped hands in his lap. “I guess we don’t need to worry about addiction.”
“No. He truly needs it for pain.”
They sat in silence as the cicadas chirped in the trees. He stared out over the landscape. She was dying to know what he was thinking. The hunch of his shoulders and distant gaze suggested he was sad, even though it was clear he and Oliver weren’t close. Would he change his plans and spend time with Oliver as his grandson instead of business associate? But she said nothing and instead, sat in the silence with him.
A quick flicker of light caught her eye. “Look, a lightning bug.”
“A what?”
“Lightning bug. Firefly?” She pointed toward the large lawn spreading around the Victorian-style home. “I know they have lightning bugs in New York. I visited my cousins in Binghamton, and I remember catching lightning bugs with them.”
“Not in Manhattan.”
“Oliver told this wonderful story about catching lightning bugs with his mother. Right in this yard.” She looked at Drake’s face to see if the story would have any effect on him.
He scoffed and shook his head. “He didn’t pass that activity down to his grandkids.”
Lexie frowned. Hadn’t Oliver shared these stories? She reviewed the conversations of the day and realized that Oliver hadn’t been around when Drake was growing up. Drake kept telling her business was more important than family because that’s how Oliver wanted it. Lexie’s heart went out to Drake, the little boy who never chased lightening bugs. “I’ll get you a jar and teach you.”
