“So—”
“So, you’re right. We’ve talked about trust. I need to know I have yours, Melody. To allow me to handle this my own way, on my timetable. I realize now”—he stopped, then started again before she could say anything—“we want to fix things, and we will. But explaining everything would cause panic, fear. This way—”
“Who is we?”
“Lionel.”
“And you.” She’d made it a statement.
He nodded. “Yes. He had things that needed working out, solutions that he wasn’t finding. Then I came along and—”
“Offered him those solutions.”
“Basically, yes.”
“Because Hamilton Industries is in trouble.”
He simply held her gaze.
The knot of dread returned. “Does it have something to do with you being Trudy’s grandson? There’s been talk of Lionel using a chunk of the Haversham fortune to save Hamilton Industries. He came into all of Trudy’s money eventually. Money that would have rightfully been—”
“That was a long time ago. And no, I’m not trying to swindle the old man out of his empire. I was happy building my own. I came here to understand where I came from.”
To his credit, he didn’t get angry or insulted at the question, but simply answered it directly. She liked that. He wasn’t hotheaded or overly sensitive. She’d thought, given the scars, that he might be. She liked that he had himself under control. But just barely. Yes, she admitted, she liked that part, too.
“What has Lionel offered you?”
“That’s just it, Melody. Everyone thinks I popped up out of nowhere, the lost grandson of an heiress, come to claim his fortune. And that Lionel is an old man with no heirs of his own, at least none who are willing to take on what he spent a lifetime sustaining and building. It’s a huge burden, the one he was handed. Don’t get me wrong, I know it was a challenge he relished. He’s made life tough on Trevor for not being willing to take on what he sees as Trevor’s rightful duties. Duties Trevor walked away from. The way Lionel sees it, Trevor essentially thumbed his nose not only at the family fortune but the family itself. Seems he wasn’t too keen on playing Lionel’s game.”
“Are you?”
“I like knowing I’ve made a difference. And yes, I bloody well like to succeed. If success brings along creature comforts, I’m not going to play martyr or live like a monk. I worked hard for what I have. But ’tis no’ the gain that motivates me, Melody.”
“It does Lionel.”
“Aye, it does seem so. He doesn’t understand a man like Trevor.”
“Do you? How well do you know him?”
“We’ve spent time together. I met with him before meeting Lionel. To answer your question, yes, I do. I respect his desire to live life on his own terms.”
Melody’s gaze sharpened then. “You’re a lot alike, the two of you, aren’t you? Only your terms are more in line with Lionel’s than Trevor’s.”
He nodded, a glint of respect in his eyes. “’Tis true. Thank you for no’ sayin’ that as if it’s something to be ashamed of.”
“I haven’t had any reason to think ill of you. I might not agree with your goals, because I don’t see them as a good fit for Hamilton. But that doesn’t mean I don’t respect what you do, or have done.”
“Fair enough. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. So…back to Lionel. What was it like, meeting with him the first time? What is it he wanted from you? Or for you?”
“He wanted my help.”
“He knew about you a year ago, so why wait until—”
“We’ve been working on this for a long time—it didn’t just come together since I got here, Melody.”
“I—I didn’t really think about it that way. I guess”—she trailed off, laughed a little at herself—“I guess I didn’t think about a lot of this. So, you’re going to step in for him, then? When…you know, when the time comes? Is this all overwhelming for you?”
“I’ve had some time to come to terms with it. And”—he paused, then went on—“finding out about my real heritage has forced me to go through a lot of things I thought I’d left behind for good. I thought, until tonight anyway, that it was best to leave them there.”
“What changed your mind tonight?” she asked, truly surprised to hear him say that.
He peeled off his gloves and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “Good memories. I’d somehow forgotten there were some of those, sprinkled in.”
“I’m sorry I made you go back. I am,” she went on, when he would have silenced her. “I didn’t know. I mean, I suspected it wasn’t good, your childhood, but then you said something about your grandmother’s place and I guess I just wanted to understand you better. I thought if I got a sense of where you came from, I’d be able to figure out who you are now.”
“Why does that matter?” He pressed a finger across her lips, and the touch made her shudder with renewed awareness. “Because it will help you figure out how to fight me?”
“Yes,” she answered honestly. “At least, that would be the intellectual answer.”
“There’s a different one?”
“There’s more to it than that—now. It matters, Griffin.” She touched his face and was stunned by the way his eyes instantly darkened. His reaction to her gentle touch was…visceral. “I don’t know why. We’ve only just met. But…it matters. That I know you. I didn’t just want to know more. I needed to know. Not because I’m scared of losing the hometown I love to some re-imagined resort vision of yours. I’d have sworn to that before. But now…”
“Now?” he prodded.
“You’re surprising me.” She cupped his cheek, held his face, looked at him directly. “I don’t know what this is, but it’s not about Hamilton—the town or the company. And it’s not about Lionel, or why you came here. Not this part. This part…is about me. I’m…you’re—” She broke off.
“What are we, Melody?” he asked quietly.
“We’re not like anything I’ve experienced. You’re—different. From what I thought. From what I know. I’m drawn to you.” She smiled a little. “And it’s not just the accent, and not just because I wanted to taste you.”
His fingers tightened on her, and she could feel him all but vibrating beneath her touch. Or maybe it was her. “You, the man…you intrigue the hell out of me. And…I want more. I want to know…everything. I wish to God you were here for any other reason, because I want what I want…and that includes keeping Hamilton the way it is.”
“That’s no’ going to happen,” he said gently. “No matter if the town as a whole rises up. We’re going forward with the resort, the hotel, the golf courses, all of it.” He braced her face. “We’ve no choice, Melody.”
“Then why not tell me the whole of it?” she asked, just as fervently. “If I can’t change it—”
“You can make it a lot harder than it has to be.”
“So tell me why I shouldn’t bother. Tell me, Griffin. I know your loyalty is to Lionel in this, but it’s my home. I deserve to know. We all do.”
He held her gaze for another interminable minute. “Lionel…has made some mistakes. Some bad ones. The decisions on how to fix it—they’ve been made, Melody. The money has been invested. We will go forward, and we must succeed. We’ll need your help, the help of all of you, to make it the best success possible, and the swiftest, which is to everyone’s advantage. But it will go forward regardless. Or you won’t have a hometown.” He pulled her in closer. “Without this change in direction, Hamilton Industries will collapse.” He tugged her into his arms, and, stunned, she let him. “Lionel didn’t offer me anything”—he whispered in her ear—“because he didn’t have anything to offer. But if I save this…then what I save will be mine to build on.” He kissed her temple, then nudged her until she looked at him again.
She knew her eyes were swimming with tears. Tears of loss, tears of shock, tears of grief.
“I take care of what’s mine, Mel
ody. I always have. And I always will.”
7
He was going completely off the rails. Telling her things he’d agreed with Lionel not to speak of, ever, if possible. Griffin hadn’t agreed with that decision, but he hadn’t had the final say. Lionel understood his town, his company, his people, a hell of a lot better than Griffin did, so he hadn’t fought him on it. But he knew secrecy had been the wrong way to go.
He wasn’t sure he could trust Melody not to say anything, at least until he’d had time to talk to Lionel. He wanted to believe he could trust her. But she’d had a day to get to know him. And a lifetime to know her hometown. He knew who was going to win that showdown, every time.
“I need to talk to him—Lionel,” Griffin said, “so if you could just give me that time before rounding up—”
“I’m not going to say anything.”
He leaned back slightly, eyebrows raised. “I appreciate that. I don’t know how long I’ll need, but I’ll tell you as soon—”
“No, I mean, I’m not going to say anything, ever.”
He frowned. “Didn’t you just get done telling me—quite convincingly, I might add, that you’d fight me on this no matter what?”
“I did. And I’m glad you told me, glad you understood why it was so important to me. But you have a point, too, about not panicking anyone. That won’t do you or them any good. Not if the company is in as bad shape as you say. If people panic and leave, look for work elsewhere, or start the great migration that has crushed so many of the small towns out this way, Hamilton won’t be able to rebound. As it stands, you have the support of the majority, at least if the gathering today was any indication. I meant what I said about trusting us, too, and I still believe everyone should know what’s going on. You will need to tell them at some point, when the timing is best for both sides, but that will be your decision. Or Lionel’s. Not mine.”
He continued to study her. “You were all ready to take up the crusade earlier today, and now you’re surrendering the field completely?”
“I didn’t say I liked it,” she said, quietly and he saw the pain behind her seemingly casual declaration. “But I have no actual cause to fight for. You’ve made that abundantly clear. I’m not big on wasting my time. So…I’ll have to…accept that I can’t change this. I don’t know what your plan will end up meaning to me. What it will change for me. Knowing it’s a fait accompli helps somewhat. I’m glad you told me. It gives me some time.”
“Time?”
“To figure things out. Make choices.”
“What choices?” he asked. “You realize, don’t you, that the resort will almost certainly boost your particular niche business? With our plans for global partnerships, the world will be your oyster. You’re only limited by how big you dream.”
“Bigger isn’t better for everyone, Griffin,” she said gently. “I tried bigger. That’s why I came back here. Well, I came back for Bernie, but it’s why I stayed. I was unhappy in Washington, unhappy in my career, unhappy with bigger, brighter, better.”
“You were a lawyer there? In Washington.”
She lifted a questioning brow.
“You stuttered earlier, over saying your grandmother passed away as you were heading to law school. What kind of law?”
“Taxes.”
He groaned. “It’s a wonder you didn’t put a gun to your temple. My God.”
“I was quite good at it,” she said, without a shred of defensiveness—or any real emotion.
“But you hated it.”
“With gun-to-the-temple passion,” she said, then her lips finally smiled a little. A bit of life came back into those dark blue eyes, but not enough to hide the sadness that was still evident.
He felt badly for putting the sorrow there, but would have felt worse if he’d kept the truth from her any longer.
“The problem was,” she went on, “I knew tax law wasn’t for me, and I knew that I hated living in the city. I just…didn’t know what else I wanted to be when I grew up. I thought I needed the stimulation of a bigger town, with more people, to push me intellectually. I didn’t think I could find that kind of satisfaction in my hometown. I love everyone here dearly, but I thought my world needed to be bigger to truly fulfill what I saw as my potential.”
“Sometimes, you do have to leave. You weren’t wrong to try.”
“No. No, I wasn’t. You’re right. I don’t regret the choices I made. Or the education I worked so hard for. But while I was realizing those choices were sucking the soul out of me, Bernie was launching this business. I started to bake. And baking…” She let the sentence drift off on a sigh. A sigh so full it captivated him.
“Your eyes go all…” He lifted a shoulder when the words weren’t there. It was an arresting sight, to be sure. “When you talk about what you do now, a look comes into your eyes. That’s your soul, all aglow. But you know that.”
She nodded, but looked surprised at his description. “You’re very—”
“Observant,” he finished for her, feeling somewhat exposed. She brought out things in him even he didn’t know resided there. “It goes with my line of work.”
“Thoughtful, was the word I was going to use. You put a lot of thought into what you do, what you say.”
He had a laugh at that. “Most of the time, I’d say aye to that. But around you? Let’s just say I haven’t found it to be the case. Apparently I’ll blurt out just about anything.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He grinned. “If you say so. What is it about baking that soothes the savage tax attorney?”
“I’m not certain,” she said, and that smile came across her face again. It truly did light her up from the inside. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I still haven’t any idea. Except you used the right word: soothe. It’s exactly that. I don’t know that I needed soothing. I needed something I cared about more than taxes, maybe. But it wasn’t like my life was horrible. Just not fulfilling. I only started baking to help Bernie. But it seemed to…I don’t know, settle my mind, center me. Working with my hands, understanding the basic chemistry of cooking, and then applying imagination to that…” She shook her head, but the dreamy look was there again, and when she turned that smile on him, it was incandescent. “You’d think a tax lawyer wouldn’t have a creative side.” Her smile widened. “But, apparently, I do. And it has been an endlessly satisfying and gratifying experience, giving myself a chance to explore it.”
It was at that precise moment, the very look on her face, in her eyes, made an ache bloom inside his chest. For the first time in his adult life he let himself want something other than business success. He let himself want the one thing he’d very, very carefully made sure he’d never allowed himself to consider. He understood that the whole world did not operate the way his family had. Even in his own family, despite the passionate squabbling, he’d seen a lot of loving relationships. He just hadn’t been part of one personally.
What he knew about love had a lot more to do with ducking punches and being constantly belittled for looking different, being different. He’d ducked, he’d hidden, he’d done whatever he could to avoid the kind of “love” his father had for him. His own grandmother had tried to protect him, but his father was her only child, and she doted on the drunken bastard. She’d done what she could for Griffin as her son’s only son, scuttling him into her kitchen at the restaurant as often as she could, shielding him as best she could. But at the end of the night, she sent him home to sleep under the same roof as his father. There were only so many ways to disappear in a two-bedroom flat.
When Griffin had gotten older, he’d fought back. Against his father, against his cousins, against his schoolmates. Against everyone who belittled or made fun of him. Everyone except Grandmama. She’d at least tried to help him. She loved him, in her own way. It was as close to an honest love as he knew. But she also loved the violent bastard who had been his father. She hadn’t wanted to involve anyone in what she viewed as
a private family matter. She loved Griffin, but she hadn’t made the torment stop. When he was finally old enough to make it on his own, at age sixteen, he’d left. He’d decided then perhaps love was an emotion best avoided altogether. At least where he was concerned.
He didn’t doubt its existence. He’d even entered into relationships, seeking companionship, if not much more. But he hadn’t truly made himself available in any of them. He understood the self-fulfilling prophecy there. He hadn’t been motivated or willing to reach beyond his past, beyond his choices, and change the pattern. He knew he was afraid of trying…and failing. He didn’t want to know that about himself. So Thomas Griffin Gallagher had focused on the things he knew he could do.
The ache tightened further inside his chest as he watched Melody begin to work on her cake. His thoughts were inextricably twined, past and present. What he wanted, standing in front of him…and what he’d left behind. A year ago, he’d gotten life-altering news. About the diary. About his real heritage. All the pain, the hurt…and the rage, that he’d felt were so far behind him had come roaring back. All those years, his grandmother had listened to the mocking and the sneers. From inside the family and out. From his own father, who hadn’t even been her natural-born son, but whom she’d loved, perhaps to an unhealthy degree for the fear of losing him.
They’d all taunted him mercilessly, about how he looked so different from the rest. And how ridiculous he was with all his fancy ideas of what they could make of themselves if they’d only listen to him. They’d thought he had no pride in his family, that his ideas were meant to denigrate their achievements. But they couldn’t have been more wrong.
His grandmother had watched it all, and never told him. Never saved him by giving him the one thing he needed: a real family who understood and loved him for who he truly was.
Griffin had her diary, knew she’d been unable to conceive, and that having a child had been the cornerstone of her every desire. When she’d heard about the babe being given up, she and his grandfather had stepped forward, then fled back to Ireland, due to her irrational fear the Havershams would take the baby back. She’d never told a soul, claiming the baby as her natural-born son, for fear he’d be shunned by the family if they knew. Griffin’s father had enough of the Gallagher look about him to get by, and no one had ever learned who his parents had truly been. But apparently Griffin had the look of Trudy’s family, fairer of hair and lighter of eye. He’d borne the brunt of being the outcast, not only because of his different looks but because of his different demeanor and way of thinking. If he had only known…it would have explained so much. Saved him from so much.
The Naughty List Page 6