Cassie reached back inside the car and pulled out the carton of ice cream she had bought at the convenience store. She planned on handling her sorrows her own special way. The past week called for a pint of chocolate chip ice cream and a spoon.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow pass under the eaves of the house. She paused. Although Shanville was so safe that most people didn’t bother locking their doors, there were exceptions.
Cassie moved back toward her car and put her hand on the handle. “Who is it?” she asked. “Who’s there?”
A tall, dark figure stepped into the moonlight. “We need to talk.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Hunter Axon. She felt paralyzed, unable to move.
He stepped closer. “That was the second time you walked out on me.”
He was standing in front of her, so close they were almost touching.
She forced herself to shift her eyes, breaking the spell. “What are you doing here?” she asked, making her way toward the house.
He grabbed her back. “Don’t walk away, Cassie. You went to a lot of trouble to talk to me. I’m here now. I suggest you take advantage,” he said, his eyes hardening.
She paused, looking him over. Would it make any difference? Doubtful. Still, she owed it to her friends to try. But would it help them? Or would it hurt them?
“I would like to talk to you,” she said. “But I can’t.”
“I don’t understand. You felt so strongly you traveled all the way to the Bahamas to meet with me.”
“That was before…” Her voice drifted off.
“Before our night together?”
“No,” she said, meeting his gaze directly. “Before I found out that talking to you could cost everyone their severance pay.”
She could see the surprise in his eyes. “What?” he said.
“Willa told me that if I even try and talk to you, she would cancel the severance packages. She said I would never convince you, and we, meaning everyone who works at the mill, would be left with nothing.”
He held her gaze. “There are situations where we have been forced to cancel a severance package. But it’s not something I enjoy.”
Was that supposed to comfort her?
He said, “I give you my word that anything said between us tonight is off the record. I will not hold it against you or the workers of Demion Mills.”
He was staring at her intently. His eyes, although cold, were honest.
“Please,” he said. “I would like the chance to talk to you.”
He had just handed her a pass to get out of jail free. “Okay,” she heard herself say finally.
He followed her inside the house. She turned on the light in the hall and said, “I think you know what I’m going to say.”
“Is there a place where we can sit down?” he asked.
She straightened. Sit down. Good idea. She nodded toward the living room. “In there.” She moved a pile of newspapers off the couch and made room for him to sit.
She hurried to the kitchen and put her ice cream in the freezer. When she returned, he was looking at a series of photos of a blossoming flower.
“Did you do these?” he asked.
She nodded. “A long time ago.”
“And this?” he asked, moving over to the next. It was a picture of a sunflower.
“My grandmother wanted flower photos in this room.”
“You’re good.”
“Thanks.”
“Really good. You could be a professional.”
“But I’m not,” she said curtly. She was not about to give in to flattery. As much as she appreciated the compliment, she didn’t trust it. From what she was learning, Hunter Axon was capable of great charm when necessary.
“Your grandmother was not happy about your decision to drop out of school, was she?”
She looked at him.
“I did some research on you today,” he said.
Research? He had been curious about her?
“Discreetly, of course,” he added.
Of course. Hunter might be a lot of things but she had the feeling he was very discreet when it came to his women. All of his women. Hundreds and hundreds of women…
What was she doing? What did it matter how many women Hunter Axon had slept with?
“Why don’t you sit down,” she suggested again, motioning toward the couch she had cleared off.
He sat on the edge of the couch and glanced around. “Nice room.”
Was he making fun of her? The room was nothing fancy, but Cassie thought it cozy. The furniture was old but comfortable.
“My grandmother decorated it forty years ago and I don’t think it’s ever been changed.”
He was looking at her. She had seen that look before, in the Bahamas. It was a tender look, one normally reserved for sweethearts and lovers. He said, “It must be hard for you, living here without her.”
Intellectually, she wasn’t sure if he was sincere or not, but emotionally, it didn’t seem to matter. She could feel the ice around her heart begin to thaw. “It is,” she said.
Get a grip, she warned herself. This was no friendly conversation. She had to stay objective. “But I’m glad that she’s not here to witness what you’re doing to the community she loved so much.”
Hunter glanced away and sighed. “Cassie,” he said quietly, “you’ve made it clear what you think about my intentions for the mill. But you haven’t talked about what happened in the Bahamas.”
Cassie straightened. Did he really want to talk about that? What was he worried about—that since she knew who he was, she might stalk him or something? Or maybe pretend she was pregnant with his child? “What’s to talk about? It was a weird case of mistaken identity. A bizarre twist of fate.”
He sighed. “I never meant for any of this to happen. Had I known who you were…” His voice trailed off. But he didn’t need to finish. If he had come all the way out here to tell her that he would not have slept with her if he had known that she was not just a factory worker, but his factory worker, he had wasted his time.
“Obviously,” she said coldly. “If we had known the other’s true identity, this would not have happened.”
“I didn’t say that,” he responded. “I said I never intended for this to happen. I didn’t say that I had any regrets or that if I had known who you were and why you were in the Bahamas I would have done anything different.”
She paused. Now, that she was not expecting.
He stepped forward, taking her hand in his. “I’ve looked everywhere for you. I’ve had people calling hotels, searching their records.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to…” He hesitated, glancing down at her hand. “I needed to see you again.”
“You…you wanted to see me again?”
“And I found you,” he said. “In the last place I expected.”
She could feel the world fade away. They were once again back in the Bahamas. He was not Hunter Axon but her prince.
Unfortunately, it was a fantasy. And like all fantasies, the sooner this one came to an end the better. She let go of his hand. “You should go.”
He looked at her. Finally he said, “I had hoped that perhaps we might…”
“Might what?” She shook her head. “Even if you weren’t buying this company you’d still be Hunter Axon. And I’d still be a factory worker. But because you are Hunter—”
“Why does that change anything?” he interrupted.
“It changes everything. Because of you I’ll soon be an unemployed factory worker.”
“With the severance, you don’t have to be a factory worker anymore. You can go back to school. You can study photography.”
“I don’t want to go back to school,” she said. She shook her head. How could she expect him to understand? “I grew up at the mill, watching my mother and grandmother work.”
Her eyes grew distant as she traveled back through time. “I remember looking at the
way their fingers seemed to fly over the looms. They worked together, tying the threads and hanging them over the loom. They turned those pieces of thread into masterpieces.”
She shook her head as she continued. “There was a time when I wanted to leave. I took up photography and went off to school. But then…” Her voice faded. “I came back.” She glanced at Hunter. “And I’ve never regretted my decision. I love being a part of history, carrying on the family tradition of weaving. I’m not ashamed of what I do. I’m proud of it.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be proud of the work you do…the work you’ve done. I’m just saying that perhaps you could look at this a little differently. Perhaps this is not as bad as it may seem. It will give you a chance to reevaluate.”
“I don’t want to reevaluate. I want to stay here at the mill.”
“But the mill can’t afford to stay open. I’ve seen the financials. It has not turned a profit in years.”
“It could’ve. If Oliver had done something with the patent to Bodyguard.”
“Not necessarily. I’m not sure the mill could handle the production for that patent. And I know it couldn’t handle the marketing. That patent is a gamble. And the mill has no money to put behind it.”
Cassie turned away. He had a point. But she was not ready to concede defeat. There had to be some way of saving the mill.
“Cassie,” he said quietly, “surely you knew the mill was having financial problems.”
She turned back to face him. “The mill was mismanaged. Oliver Demion single-handedly ran a once-profitable institution into the ground. He paid himself an enormous salary and offended some of our biggest clients. He’s also never done any marketing or advertising. I know that, under the right management, this mill could be profitable once again.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Cassie.”
“So that’s it,” she said. “Your mind is made up. You’re going to close Demion Mills?”
“It will be another several months before we will be able to transfer production to our plant overseas, at which point you will all receive a generous severance.”
She shook her head and glanced away. “Please go.”
He sighed, his vexation obvious. “All right,” he said resolutely. “But before I go…” He moved toward her. For a moment she thought he was planning on giving her one last kiss. Instead he reached into his pocket and pulled out her necklace.
“You found it,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. “It was my mother’s. I never take it off. The clasp broke a while ago and I jerry-rigged it but—” She stopped. A brand-new clasp sparkled in the light. “You fixed it.”
She looked at him and said, “Thank you.”
It was a moment of tenderness. She glanced away and fumbled with the necklace, attempting to put it around her neck once more. “Let me help you,” he said. Before she could object, he was behind her. His fingers brushed against her neck, causing a tingle that ran down her spine and into her toes. She closed her eyes, her willpower fading. Maybe they still had a chance. Maybe she could still talk some sense into him.
“You can’t close this mill,” she said, turning to face him.
“What?”
“It’s going to kill the town. I don’t expect you to care about that, but the people…Almost all of them have worked at the mill their entire lives. It’s all they know.”
“Which is probably why they’ve stayed. I’m not cutting them loose without anything. With the mill staying open for a while and the severance package, they will have more than enough to give them time to find another—”
“Even if you’re right, and they can find another job, what makes you think they want to?”
Hunter looked at her. She could see his gaze harden. Unfortunately, it only made him look more handsome.
“This is what I do, Cassie. And if it wasn’t me, Oliver Demion would sell to someone else. Someone not so generous.”
She could feel his gaze sweep over her. He stepped forward and touched her cheek.
She froze. She didn’t want to speak any longer. She wanted to touch him. To kiss him.
It was enough to give him one more chance. She took a breath and said, “What about the people who can’t find another job?”
“What do you mean?”
“People like Ruby Myers, who’s worked for the mill for the last forty years. If the mill closes, how will she make a living?”
He was in front of her. He raised her chin toward him with his index finger. “She will have social security and a handsome severance.”
Cassie took a step back, moving away from him. “That’s not good enough. Frances Wells can’t leave town, either. She’s caring for a sick husband. Xavier Scott can’t leave, neither can Miranda Peters or Richard Smith.”
“Perhaps we can work out a different severance. Perhaps we can give them more money.”
“That’s very generous of you, but I’m not interested in negotiating a severance.”
“What exactly were you suggesting, then?”
She straightened. “Sell us back the mill.”
“Are you prepared to make me an offer?”
Cassie glanced away. She had spoken with many banks since she found out Oliver was trying to sell the mill. But none had been willing to finance a loan.
“Cassie,” Hunter said, and once again the warmth was gone from his voice. From the cold way in which he regarded her, she thought for a moment she might have gone too far. That perhaps he would renege and cancel the severance package. “I’m not in the business of giving away properties. And I’m not about to finance an operation that has not turned a profit for years.”
She nodded. It was hopeless. He would not change his mind. “Goodbye, Mr. Axon.”
He sighed. “Just ask yourself this, Cassie. What will you and all your friends do if I sold you the mill and you were forced to declare bankruptcy? Just imagine. No severance package, no last pay period. Just gone.”
“We won’t have the opportunity to find out, will we?”
He gave her one last glance before turning away. As he walked toward the door, he stopped.
Suddenly Cassie realized what he was looking at. The photo she had taken of Hunter on the beach was sitting on top of the table. She had printed it out as soon as she returned home, a reminder of the mysterious and kind man to whom she had given her heart.
He glanced back at her and looked, for a moment, as if he might speak. Instead he turned back toward the door and left. Cassie ran to the door and leaned outside.
“Hunter,” she said, her voice stopping him. “Thank you for returning my heart.”
And with that she slammed the door.
Six
Cassie looked at the white posterboard. She picked up a red marker and wrote: Workers on Strike.
“Here you go, Mabel,” she said, handing it to the grey-haired woman in front of her. “You can go join the others.”
It was a cold, drizzly day, typical of early spring. The winds whipped in from the mountains, swirling around town and chilling even the sturdiest of souls. But no one noticed the biting rain or the invincible wind. They had more important things on their minds. Like the strike.
After Hunter had left, Cassie had called everyone and anyone she could think of. Her message was the same: Hunter Axon would not listen. Urgent action was needed.
But what?
Christine Humblegot, who worked as Oliver’s secretary, said she had overheard Willa tell Oliver that because the plant in China would not be up and running for another three months, she was counting on the workers at Demion Mills to begin producing Bodyguard samples so that they could deliver on time.
In other words, Hunter needed them. At least temporarily.
It was their only bargaining chip.
A strike might make him more willing to negotiate. Of course, a man like Hunter would be able to find a way to work around the strike—but it would cause him some headaches.
“This is so exci
ting,” Mabel said. “I’ve never done anything like this in all my sixty-three years.” Mabel held the poster proudly above her head and stopped. “Do you think the police will arrest us?”
“I doubt it,” Cassie said. “Herb has his hands full.” Cassie nodded toward Herb Blansfield, Shanville’s sheriff. He was standing by the entrance to the mill, waving a sign that said Keep Jobs In Shanville. Although it had been years since he last worked in the mill, his wife and daughter were employed as weavers.
Cassie smiled as she looked over the crowd. She had explained the risks to each and every one of them. But that seemed to only firm their resolve. Despite the risk, every single member of the mill had enthusiastically joined the strike. They were courageous and determined. No one was willing to see the mill disappear into the hands of a company who had only one intention: to destroy it.
So the whole community had turned out to show its resolve. Luanne was there with her six daughters, all mill employees. Christine was there with her grandparents.
If Hunter Axon thought they would just roll over and hand him the keys to their beloved mill, he was wrong.
Hunter left Cassie’s with one agenda: he wanted to kiss her.
Not that a simple kiss would quench his thirst. His need for her had taken on a life of its own, growing stronger by the day. The thought of never seeing her again had brought him to the brink of despair.
To have found her was a miracle.
But their reunion had fallen quite short of his anticipation. Instead of falling into his arms, she had been ready to run him out of town on a rail.
Once again he found himself thinking about what had transpired the previous evening. Instead of making love they’d argued about Cassie’s desire to save a broken-down mill.
How could she expect him to fund a business that had not shown a profit for years, a business that was on the verge of bankruptcy?
Yet Cassie’s reaction was not unique. In his years of business he had encountered many workers who, like Cassie, made him desperate offers to save their businesses. He had been vilified as a devil, an unfeeling corporate raider who took advantage of other people’s misfortune.
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