That was why he’d asked her to go to the stockholders’ gala with him, Tim told himself. It was a perfectly plausible reason. He did want an intelligent companion and he valued Dawn’s opinions. Therefore, what could be more logical than to include her in the after-hours dinner meeting?
Riding the elevator back to the third floor he let his mind wander. What kind of dress would she choose with Heather at her side? he wondered. Maybe he should have told his sister how good Dawn looked in blue. It brought out the summer sky in her eyes and made her skin glow with just the right amount of warmth. And that long, blond hair of hers! Ada Smith had been right on target when she’d remarked on its beauty.
The elevator doors slid open. Jarred from his reverie, Tim started to exit as his sister, Amy, stepped on.
“Hi. I was just on my way up to see you,” Amy said with a smile. “But if you’re getting off here, I’ll wait.”
Tim wasn’t about to admit he’d been so caught up in his daydreaming about Dawn he hadn’t even realized what floor he’d stopped on. Instead, he stepped back and motioned for his eldest sister to join him. “No problem. Come on. We can talk in my office.”
“Oh? Is Heather gone?”
“I just saw her leave,” Tim said with a suppressed sigh. “Hopefully, she and my assistant will be out all afternoon.”
“That was what I wanted to talk to you about,” Amy said.
Raising an eyebrow, Tim crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “Yeah. I figured you’d want to know what was going on as soon as the news hit the office grapevine. It started out as a simple idea, honest. Somehow, things got out of hand.”
The elevator had hummed its way to the third floor and the doors were sliding open. “How simple?” Amy asked.
Tim blocked the door with his hand so it wouldn’t close too soon. “All I did was ask Dawn to go to the stockholders’ dinner with me. The next thing I knew, I was sending Heather to Engel’s with my assistant and my gold card.”
“That makes perfect sense to me,” Amy said with a knowing smile. “It’s black-tie. Dawn probably needed something nice to wear.”
“That’s what she said. I don’t get it. I mean, I understand her wanting a new dress for the occasion. All the women I know act like that. I just can’t see what the big deal is if she has to wear what she already has in her closet. She always looks great to me.”
“Oooooh,” his sister drawled. “Have you told her that?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I have. Why?”
Amy merely shook her head and stared at him. “For a savvy executive in charge of a company the size of this one, you sure can be dense sometimes.”
“I don’t want to spend Tim’s money,” Dawn insisted, peeking at her companion between the dresses on the rack at Engel’s. “If I have to do this, I’ll pay for it myself.”
Heather was adamant. “Nonsense. Tim said this was for a business dinner and he’s as good as commanding you to go, so he should have to pay. It’s no different than it would be if somebody like Ed Bradshaw had to rent a tux.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“Well, start to,” Heather said with a smile. “I’d offer to lend you something new of mine if we had the same basic coloring but I don’t think I have anything appropriate that would do you justice.” She held up a slim, shimmering, teal-blue sheath with a handkerchief hemline. “How about this one? It’s perfect with your hair and eyes.”
“It is pretty fabric.” Dawn lifted the sleeve, read the attached price tag and dropped it as though it had burned her fingers. “No way!”
“Oh, come on. It’ll serve Tim right if we charge some expensive stuff. Besides, it’s against the Code of Women to refuse to spend a man’s money when he offers.”
“What Code of Women?”
Heather giggled. “I just made that up. If there isn’t a code like that, there should be. Think about it. Suppose Tim told you he wanted a hundred copies of a fancy, full-color brochure and the copy machine at the office was broken? Would you write them all out in longhand and then color them with crayons? Or would you go find the equipment to do the job right?”
Dawn got her point but made a wry face anyway. “Okay. I’ll try on a few things. But let’s be sensible about this. I don’t want to bankrupt the poor man.”
Heather just rolled her eyes.
“Well, I don’t,” Dawn insisted. “It’s not right to take advantage of this situation, even if Tim did bring it on himself.”
“Fine. Whatever,” Heather said as she grabbed several more dresses off the rack and slung them over her arm. “Come on. Let’s try these on you for starters. I don’t want to bother looking for shoes or other accessories till we see what basic color scheme we’re dealing with.”
Dawn was lagging behind. “Shoes? Accessories? Wait a minute. Who said anything about all that?”
“I did. You don’t expect me to abdicate my duty to Nashville Living, do you? Their new Makeover Maven can’t turn out a half-complete Cinderella job. I have a reputation to protect. Can’t be slipshod. How would it look to my boss?”
“Your sister Amy is your boss.”
“Right. And Tim is everybody’s boss these days, even Amy’s. When he says ‘Jump,’ we all ask, ‘How high?’”
Sighing, Dawn quit arguing and followed Heather to the dressing rooms. This day had certainly been eventful. And it was far from over. If Tim’s sister had her way, his credit card would be in meltdown in a few hours. The question was, how could Dawn rationalize accepting that kind of expensive treatment, even at Heather’s insistence? It didn’t seem right. Or proper. Or even smart. Yet she couldn’t see a graceful way out of the situation.
The current state of affairs wasn’t merely a challenge to her sensibilities, she realized with a jolt. It was a test of her faith. If she truly believed God’s hand was guiding every aspect of her life—which she did—how could she question the recent turn of events without also doubting her Heavenly Father’s wisdom? How, indeed?
Gown. Shoes. Purse. Dawn’s head was swimming by the time she and Heather had finished shopping. She’d put her foot down when Tim’s sister had suggested buying jewelry, agreeing to borrow something, instead. Unfortunately, that choice had proven at least as troubling as the purchases they’d made because Heather still lived at home with her parents.
Dawn was already in awe of the whole family so she wasn’t thrilled with Heather’s suggestion they drop in at the Hamilton mansion to look at jewelry on their way back to the office. With Heather driving, however, she had no choice but to go along with the idea.
The Hamiltons didn’t call their residence a mansion, of course. They had too much class for that. To them it was merely their ancestral home; an enormous, old, redbrick, Greek Revival–style house at the very outer edge of north Davis Landing. Dawn had seen it from the outside many times and had tried to imagine what the interior might look like but she wasn’t prepared for the real thing.
Heather led her through the heavy, leaded-glass front door and into the foyer. “Here we are. Home sweet home.”
Dawn didn’t know what to say. “It’s…it’s big.”
The other woman’s laugh echoed in the cavernous entryway. “It sure didn’t seem big when we were kids. We were always stumbling over each other.”
“That’s hard to believe.” Dawn had taken a few tentative steps on the highly polished hardwood floor and was staring up at the colored light reflecting off the crystal prisms in the chandelier. “Wow.”
Heather gestured toward a sweeping central staircase. “My room’s on the third floor. Most of the good jewelry’s kept down here, in Dad’s safe in the library. We’ll cut through the parlor so you can see grandmother’s grand piano. Mom made all of us take lessons when we were kids. Boy, did my brothers hate it. Do you play?”
“No.” Dawn shook her head and followed, trying to remember to keep her mouth closed instead of gaping at the opulence. Feeling totally out of place, she gave a ner
vous little laugh when an amusing thought crossed her mind.
“What’s so funny?” Heather asked pleasantly.
“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking how I’d hate to have to dust all these ornate antiques.”
“Vera Mae takes care of that,” Heather said. “She’s been our cook and housekeeper for as long as I can remember. When I was little, I used to think she was older than dirt.”
Dawn suppressed another laugh. “What, no butler?”
“Not anymore. There was a butler’s pantry off the kitchen. It’s been obsolete since one of the remodels where they opened up the smaller areas and combined the formal and informal dining rooms. I keep telling Mom she needs more help, especially lately, but she refuses to hire anyone besides Vera Mae. Of course, there is a service that keeps up the lawn and gardens.”
“Of course.” Dawn didn’t have the heart to tell Heather she’d been joking when she’d mentioned a butler. She couldn’t even imagine living in a house that was more like a museum than a home. And the notion of having even one servant boggled her mind. There were larger, more modern dwellings in the newer areas of Davis Landing, but she doubted there were any that could rival the Hamilton place for sheer lavishness.
Heather led her into a room that had more bookshelves lining the walls than Betty’s Bakeshoppe and Bookstore. In one corner, two matching high-backed chairs were grouped around a carved mahogany side table. A glass-shaded floor lamp of brass, with an inlaid alabaster base, arched over the table like a graceful, long-necked whooping crane about to snap up a hapless fish. As if a decorator had read her thoughts beforehand, a lifelike bisque figure of a wading bird stood poised on the side table.
Didn’t these people own anything that wasn’t old and fragile? Dawn was almost afraid to breathe. She sure hoped she didn’t have to sneeze while she was in this room because everything except the massive desk and the books looked decidedly breakable.
“We’ll take a peek at the particular necklace I have in mind and then decide,” Heather said, going directly to an eye-level shelf and removing a set of leather-bound tomes to gain access to a small safe with a combination dial. “Mom has lots of beautiful things.”
“Hold it.” Dawn put on the brakes. “I thought you were going to loan me something of yours.”
Heather laughed. “I don’t wear diamonds. It’s not my style. But Mom has oodles of pretty pieces. There’s one in particular that I’m sure would be perfect with the neckline of your new dress.”
“I can’t borrow your mother’s jewels! What if I lost one?” She swallowed hard. “What if I lost a whole necklace? What if I got mugged or something?”
“Oh, stop worrying. Tim will take good care of you.” Heather had the safe open and was removing a dark velvet box. “Here.” She opened it and displayed its contents. “What do you think of this one?”
Dawn gasped. The silver filigreed necklace and matching earrings were delicately crafted. Just enough diamond sparkle had been incorporated to set off the artistic design without making the pieces gaudy. Her hand trembled as she reached to gently touch the outer edge of the velvet box. “How beautiful!”
“I think so, too. And Mom rarely wears the set. Seems like a shame to have it sitting in the dark in this old safe, doesn’t it? I’ll ask her to be sure, but I’m positive she’ll be delighted to lend it to you for one evening. Can’t you picture it with the scooped neckline of that beautiful blue dress we bought? Talk about gorgeous!”
Dawn felt as if she were a helium-filled balloon that had suddenly sprung a leak. “I can’t wear that. Really, I can’t.”
Heather laid a hand lightly on Dawn’s shoulder. “You can and you will. It’s about time somebody knocked my stuffy brother’s socks off and I think you’re just the one who can do it.”
“I don’t want to knock anybody’s socks off,” Dawn lamented. “I want to go back to the office and pretend all this never happened.”
“Well, I can take you back to work, but I can’t do anything about canceling out the afternoon,” Heather said with obvious glee. “I wish I could be a little fly on the wall so I could hide and see Tim’s face when he gets his first look at you in that dress, though.”
Dawn sighed and shook her head. “Speaking of seeing things, I hope he decides he loves the outfit before he sees the bill for it and faints dead away.”
Chapter Eight
Opryland was a Nashville institution, one that Dawn had heard plenty about but hadn’t visited. She’d cited various excuses for not having sampled any of the attractions at the resort and convention center complex but the main reason was monetary.
Though she was living comfortably while still sending money to her parents, she hadn’t budgeted anything extra for entertaining herself. She hadn’t needed to. Beau kept her amused at home and Northside Community Church, with its diverse members and outreach programs, had become her emotional and physical escape.
There was always plenty going on around the church, even during the week, and she enjoyed the aura of peace and love that always enveloped her and made her feel at home there. That was one of the reasons she’d agreed to teach Sunday school on a regular basis and why she didn’t mind spending that whole evening sprucing up the Sunday school rooms for the six-to eight-year-olds with her friend and fellow teacher, Gabi.
Thanks to Northside and the example of its beloved pastor, David Abernathy, Dawn was always adding to her growing list of friends. Besides Gabi and Gabi’s young daughters, Veronica, Roni for short, who was ten going on twenty-five, and Talia, a lovable eight-year-old, she’d also grown close to Felicity Simmons from the Dispatch and Stella Barton, who worked at the hospital with Gabi.
Recently, she’d heard quite a lot about Melissa Hamilton, too, mainly when the church’s young adults group met. Now that the youngest Hamilton had run off to who-knows-where, someone was always asking for prayer on her behalf. From the tone of the requests, Dawn had concluded Melissa’s prolonged absence was of concern, particularly to her family and those who knew her best.
She’d contemplated asking Tim if he’d had any word from his baby sister, then thought better of it. If she wanted answers to personal questions, it would be much wiser to ask Heather. Dawn liked her, really liked her, especially after they’d shared the shopping experience, even if Heather was a rich kid from the right side of the tracks.
“I like my side of the tracks,” Dawn mumbled.
Across the otherwise empty Sunday school room, Gabi perked up. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” Dawn shrugged. “I was just thinking out loud.”
“Sounds serious. Anything I can do to help?”
“Oooh. Better be careful when you say that. Last time I did, Tim roped me into going to that fancy dinner that’s coming up.”
“It’s next Saturday night, isn’t it?”
Dawn made a face at Gabi. “Yeah. Whoopie.”
“Hey, don’t complain. You got a new dress out of the deal. It’s muy bonita, as my mamacita would say.”
“It is pretty. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but it’s such a waste. Where in the world am I ever going to wear a dress like that again?”
“Maybe Tim will decide he wants to take you out more than once.”
“Dreamer.”
“Well, maybe he will. You never know. You said he’s mellowed lately.”
Dawn’s eyebrows arched and she nodded. “That’s true.” The hint of a smile quirked one corner of her mouth. “I can just picture it. He’ll be in a different shirt and tie every time he picks me up and I’ll be wearing that same blue dress, over and over again.”
“At least he’ll get his money’s worth,” Gabi teased.
“Not unless I live in that dress for the rest of my life—and then some. I can’t believe anybody pays that much for clothes. And the shoes were nearly as bad. I can’t remember exactly what they were called. Their name sounded like an Italian opera singer crossed with a Russian cobbler.”
Gabi giggled.
“I think I’ve heard of that brand. Very trendy. Are they comfortable?”
“I don’t know. I guess so. I’m going to be too nervous to notice my feet, anyway.” She paced to the bulletin board and busied herself pinning up illustrations of the upcoming month’s Sunday school lessons.
“You’ll do fine,” her friend assured her. “How are you going to wear your hair?”
Dawn frowned. “My hair?”
“Sure. Are you going with an up-do or leaving it loose, like always?”
Laying aside the pushpins she’d been using at the bulletin board, she raked the fingers of both hands through her tresses and lifted them high in the back. “You mean up? Like this? Why would I do that?”
“To look more sophisticated.”
“Phooey. I’m not going to fool anybody into thinking I actually belong at that stockholders dinner no matter what I do,” Dawn countered, shaking out her hair and resuming the decorating task. “Why should I try?”
“It’s not about trying to fool anyone,” Gabi argued. “It’s called putting your best foot forward.” She tittered. “After all, you’ll be wearing expensive shoes on those feet.”
“Very funny.”
“I could do your hair for you. I used to put my own up all the time when Octavio was alive. Now, I don’t take the time to fuss with it. Too much bother.”
Dawn shrugged noncommittally. “You can fiddle with my hair if you want to. I hadn’t actually considered doing anything different with it but it might make me feel more elegant. I need all the help I can get at this point.”
“You’ll do fine. Don’t put yourself down,” Gabi said. “Tim obviously feels comfortable taking you or he wouldn’t have asked you to go in the first place.”
“That’s true. But—”
“No buts. It’s settled. I’ll be over Saturday morning to do your hair. We can make it a girls-only party and unwind together.”
“Speaking of girls,” Dawn said. “What about Talia and Roni? Want to bring them, too? We can all pig out on pizza. My treat.”
The Hamilton Heir Page 9
