by Francis Ray
Dismissed, she left the office, closing the door softly behind her, having no idea what to do. The company had loyal employees who had been there since the beginning. They had no inkling that the company was in danger of closing. Trouble was, she was clueless on how to prevent it from happening.
She only knew she had to try.
The first thing she had to do was move from Houston to Elms Fork, another task she wasn’t looking forward to.
* * *
At one that afternoon, Samantha pulled into a parking space at the Houston Sentinel newspaper. The usual three-hour drive had turned into four because of the heavy traffic just inside Houston’s city limits. She would miss many things about Houston; the traffic and the humidity weren’t two of them.
After grabbing her handbag and a corrugated box she’d picked up at Collins, Samantha quickly headed for the air-conditioned building. Inside, she checked through security and headed for her office on the third floor, going over the things she needed to take care of before leaving for good. One task in particular she wasn’t looking forward to was saying good-bye to Mark Washington.
Stepping into the elevator, Samantha nodded to a couple of employees she’d seen around the building. On the short climb to her floor, her thoughts wandered back to Mark. They’d dated for three months. If it wasn’t fireworks, she was comfortable with him and they got along well … until he’d been promoted to senior sportswriter seven months ago.
Suddenly he was gone more than he was in Houston. He loved the excitement of covering top sports events across the country, and she hated it. She wanted him there with her. She wasn’t like her mother, quietly supporting her husband and taking care of the family while her man was gone more often than he was home.
Once she got over her annoyance, she realized she didn’t mind the separation because she missed him; she minded because his job was more important than she was. It had been a startling revelation, one she hadn’t been happy with. She hadn’t thought she was that needy or that selfish. She was also a coward.
She’d used the old line about “our lives are going in two different directions” as the reason for breaking up with Mark instead of telling him the truth. She didn’t love him deeply enough to accept his schedule and be happy for him.
Two steps off the elevator, Samantha came face-to-face with her boss, Isabel Knox, the features editor. In her early sixties, Isabel’s auburn hair had turned gray. She had a moody disposition and a penchant for wearing strong colors that often clashed with her pale complexion—today she had on a lime-green suit. Her walls were filled with awards for her skills as a savvy newspaper reporter.
“Samantha, I’m so sorry to hear about your grandfather.” Isabel enveloped Samantha in a brief, awkward hug. “If there is anything we can do, please don’t hesitate to let us know.”
“Thank you.” Isabel wasn’t a people person, but she was a great editor. “Actually, I came back to resign.”
“Resign?” Up went Isabel’s pencil-thin eyebrows.
“Can we talk in my office?” Samantha asked.
“Mine is closer.” Isabel entered her office, stepped aside for Samantha, and closed the door after her. “Now, what’s going on? You’re one of my best reporters.”
Samantha was taken aback. Isabel was miserly with praise but quick to rip an article or a reporter apart. “I am?”
Isabel waved a slim hand. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”
True, but it would have been nice to know she was doing a good job. Since newspaper reporting wasn’t her first or second choice, she’d always worked doubly hard to do her best. She had pictured herself working for a high-fashion magazine in New York. She hadn’t even gotten a response to her résumé.
“Why are you resigning?” Isabel asked, getting back to the point. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you and Mark breaking up, does it?”
There were no secrets at the newspaper. “No. My grandfather left me part ownership of Collins Industry, a company he founded and was president of.”
“What kind of company?”
“We make turbochargers.”
Now Isabel was the one taken aback. “What do you know about turbochargers—or cars, for that matter?”
Add one more name to the growing list of people who thought she wasn’t qualified to run Collins. “What I don’t know I can learn. I’m sorry, but unfortunately I can’t give you a two-week notice. Today I need to find a Realtor to sell my condo and hire a moving service. If possible, I plan to leave in the morning.”
“Can’t someone else run this company? You have the piece with the mayor’s homeless program coming up.”
“Family comes first,” Samantha said simply. The newspaper could easily assign someone else. That wasn’t the case with Collins. She was it. She’d let her grandfather down by staying away; she wouldn’t do it again. “He—he asked me just before he passed to run the company. There’s no way I can walk away.”
“I suppose.” Isabel blew out a frustrated breath and folded her arms. “If you find you miss reporting, the door is always open.”
Samantha nodded. “That means a lot. Thank you and good-bye.” After leaving her boss’s office, she went to hers, which was located at the end of the hall. There wasn’t much to pack. She’d never been one for a lot of knickknacks.
Placing the box on the desk she always kept neat, she glanced around. She’d moved from a cubicle to a real office the same week she and Mark started dating. At the time, she’d thought it was a good sign. Shaking away the memory, she removed the awards for journalism and community service from the wall behind her desk. Next came the aloe vera plant that thrived despite her neglect.
Picking up the picture of her parents, she stared at their smiling faces and wondered if they would be proud of the person she’d become. She wasn’t sure, and that bothered her. When she’d lost them, she’d turned her back on her family and the family business. She’d let grief and anger rule her every decision.
It had taken the loss of her grandfather for her to take a long hard look at her life. She didn’t like what she saw.
Her door opened. She glanced over her shoulder. Mark Washington stood in the doorway, as if hesitant of his reception. His instincts were spot on. She wasn’t in the mood for this, but she was afraid he wasn’t going to give her a choice.
In his mid-thirties, the cuffs of his blue oxford shirt rolled over his wrists, he was tall and slender rather than muscular. Women at the newspaper thought he was handsome. Her traitorous mind speculated on what they’d think of Dillon.
“Why didn’t you call and tell me you were coming home?”
No condolences, no “I’m glad to see you,” just accusations. Mark was also pragmatic. Once she hadn’t minded. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
He cursed under his breath, then quickly crossed the room to take her into his arms. “I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather. I missed you so much. Missed us being together.”
Samantha briefly closed her eyes, searching for the spark of excitement at being held by a man she thought she loved, and felt … nothing. Dillon made her tingle with just a look.
Pushing out of his arms Samantha went behind her desk before speaking. “I’m resigning to run my grandfather’s company.”
“What?” He rounded the desk to stand beside her. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She tossed a cup full of pens into the corrugated box. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
He took her arms, turned her toward him. “Don’t be angry. You told me time and time again how much you disliked your grandfather’s company, complained that it overshadowed your parents’ lives and ruined yours.”
He was right. “Seeing Grandfather, talking with him during his last hours, made me realize a lot about myself, my parents, and the company. I was angry with everyone when my parents were killed, and I transferred that anger to the town, the company, my grandfather. I was wrong. My father loved Collins. I won’t turn my
back on the company.”
“All right.” He nodded slowly. “I can probably drive down in a couple of weeks—”
“No.” She stepped away. “I’m sorry, Mark. It’s over between us. You’re a great friend—”
“We were more than friends,” he interrupted.
“Once.” Her smile was sad. “I’d like for us to always be friends.”
His mouth narrowed into a thin line. “This is not what I wanted between us.”
“It’s the way it has to be. Good-bye, Mark.”
He went to the door. “I won’t say good-bye. You know how to find me.”
Samantha sighed as the door shut a little too firmly. Another man she’d ticked off. She reached for her tape recorder and continued to clean out her desk and office.
Both her uncle and Mark expected her to change her mind and give in. They were in for a long wait.
Three
Some things you ignored. A red light on the dashboard of your car wasn’t one of them.
Wednesday afternoon, a mile inside Elms Fork city limits, Samantha gripped the steering wheel and called her automobile service. In a matter of minutes, she was creeping toward Montgomery Garage with her caution lights on. Well aware of how long she might have to wait for a tow truck, she’d decided to chance damaging the car.
Out of nowhere, she remembered Isabel’s and Mark’s comments about her not knowing anything about cars. She gritted her teeth and flicked on her signal to turn into the garage.
She counted nine bays. All were full, and more cars were in the parking lot. Samantha backed into the first available parking spot, proud that she’d considered giving them enough space when they looked under the hood or had to push the car into one of the bays.
Getting out of the car, she sniffed. She was only marginally less nervous that she didn’t smell smoke.
“Samantha?”
Samantha jerked around to see Dillon’s mother coming toward her. She wore chocolate slacks, a cream-colored blouse, and chocolate walking shoes. The mother was as striking as the son, with hair just as thick. Hers was straight and framed a face with high cheekbones and warm black eyes.
“Hello, Ms. Montgomery.”
“Marlene, please.” She extended her hand. “Your emergency car service said you were on your way.”
Samantha took the hand, surprised to feel the slight calluses. “The red light came on.” She shifted uncomfortably, stuck one hand into the pocket of her jeans. “I’m a bit late with my oil change.”
Marlene smiled. “That’s probably not the cause of the light. Let’s take a look.” She popped the hood. Smoke billowed.
Samantha automatically caught Marlene’s arm, pulled her away from the car. “Be careful. You could get hurt or ruin your clothes.”
Smiling in reassurance, Marlene gently brushed Samantha’s hand aside. “Believe me, after all these years, I know how to get grease stains out.” She bent over the engine, then straightened a few seconds later. “Busted water hose. It will be a couple of hours before we can get to you. The cost will be sixty-five dollars and take about thirty minutes. We can take you home or you can wait.”
Samantha simply stared. “You know that quickly?”
Marlene’s smile wavered. “If you’d like another mechanic to look at it, I can pull one for a minute.”
Samantha was shaking her head before Marlene finished. “I’m not doubting you, I just wanted to know how you knew so quickly.”
Marlene pointed to the split hose. “Simple visual. It wasn’t that difficult.”
“It would have been to me.” Sighing, Samantha curved her arms around her handbag. “I’d like for you to fix the car and I’ll accept a ride home. Have you always known about cars? I only know how to put gas in mine.”
“I didn’t when I first started, but I was determined to learn,” Marlene confessed with narrowed eyes. “Dillon didn’t have the time or the inclination to run the business here, and since I was the cause of him opening the garage, I felt obligated to learn and help.”
A frown darted across Samantha’s brow. “How is that?”
“Long story short, an unscrupulous mechanic cheated me out of fifteen hundred dollars and then got smart about it,” she said. “In a month I was running a garage geared toward accommodating women, and in three months the mechanic was out of business.”
“Good for you. I’ve been taken advantage of,” Samantha said. “I’m glad you had Dillon.”
“He’s the best son a mother could ask for. Let’s go inside and sign the work release form.” Marlene started toward the office. “I called Collins yesterday and couldn’t get you.”
“You did?”
Marlene opened the half-glass door of the white stone building. “The operator rang your grandfather’s office. I spoke with Evan.”
Samantha stepped inside the large office with healthy plants and an aquarium. Through an open door she saw a waiting room with a TV and a small bookcase. “I can imagine he wasn’t helpful.”
“He said you were in Houston and hung up.” Marlene went around the counter and handed Samantha a service contract on a clipboard. “I’m glad you didn’t stay.”
Samantha bit her lower lip. “You’re probably the only one. Uncle Evan doesn’t have any faith in me. Neither did my co-workers in Houston when I told them.”
“Do you have faith in yourself?”
Samantha glanced upward. She opened her mouth, then closed it. “It comes and goes,” she said truthfully.
“Then you’ll fail,” Marlene said, her expression sad. “The world will always have an opinion of you, but what counts is what you think of yourself. It won’t be easy running Collins. If you go in with self-doubts, they’ll overwhelm you.”
“It isn’t easy when no one believes in you.” Samantha handed back the completed form.
“Abe had faith in you. He was a shrewd man. He wouldn’t have made you a partner if he had doubts.” Marlene took the form, placed it in a plastic folder, and hung it on a hook with several others. “I also have faith in you.”
“You do?” Pleasure spread through Samantha.
“Like Abe, you care about the employees and the company. That counts for a lot.” Marlene came back around the counter. “You came back when you could have stayed in Houston. That took courage.”
“I’ve put my condo on the market. A moving company will deliver my things on Friday, but I’m not sure where to put them.”
“Why not the guest cottage behind the main house? Your grandmother planned to decorate it, but she never did. There might be some things in there, but probably not much.”
Samantha thought of the rumors of Abe fathering Dillon. “He loved her very much.”
“Yes, he did. That kind of love is rare and precious.” Marlene pulled a key from her pocket. “I can take you home.”
“Thank you.” Samantha didn’t say anything else until they were in the van. “Is Dillon coming back?”
Marlene started the motor before answering. “I haven’t asked and he hasn’t said.”
Samantha leaned her head back against the seat. “Maybe I should call him.” She straightened. “If you don’t mind giving me his number.”
“Not a good idea.” Marlene pulled out of the parking lot into the street. “Dillon doesn’t like to be pushed. He has to make up his own mind about Collins.”
“But what if he doesn’t want to help?”
Marlene stopped for a signal light. “Then you’ll have to learn the business on your own.”
That was exactly what Samantha was afraid of.
* * *
Marlene had been truthful with Samantha when she’d said Dillon couldn’t be pushed. Even as a toddler, he’d been independent and wanted to do things his way. She’d fretted that his feet would be crooked because he liked dressing himself and, more often than not, he put his shoes on the wrong foot. But he could be led. She’d learned the gentle art from trial and error, tears, and sleepless nights.
Th
e phone on her nightstand rang. She didn’t need caller ID to know it was Dillon. He was the only person who would call her after ten.
“Hi, Dillon. Home or still at the garage?” She closed the book she had been reading in bed and removed her eyeglasses.
“The garage. Pulling the motor out of a Ferrari. The wife was frantic when the tow truck hauled it in. It’s her husband’s pride and joy.”
“Something tells me she wasn’t supposed to drive it?”
He chuckled. “They’ve only been married a year.”
“She won’t make it to two if she goes behind his back.”
“I think she’s learned her lesson. I’ve never seen a woman more hysterical or make more promises to me, her absent husband, and God, before. How was your day?”
Marlene smiled and leaned back more fully against the padded gray silk headboard that matched the draperies. Showtime. “Busy as usual. We worked on Samantha’s car. She’s one lucky woman. Are you going to give the woman with the Ferrari the usual ten percent discount?”
“Hardly. Why was she lucky?”
“Her water hose burst a few blocks from the garage instead of on the way back from Houston. She’s moving back to run Collins.”
“What she knows about cars you could probably put on the head of a pin.”
“Probably as much as I did, but thanks to you and your patience, I’m as good as any of my crew. It makes a difference when someone has faith in you.”
Silence. He probably had a hard frown on his face, but he was also thinking. Dillon might have a bad-boy reputation, but he liked helping people. He mentored potential dropouts with the local school districts. What young boys didn’t like cars?
“Thanks for calling. You better get back to work on the Ferrari. Good night. Love you.”
“Night, Mama. Love you too.”
Marlene hung up the phone. She’d give Dillon a week tops. He wasn’t the type of man to walk away from his obligation or let a woman fail if he could prevent it.
However, he wouldn’t make it easy for Samantha. But that might be a good thing. She needed to toughen up. Marlene just hoped she’d eventually learn to stand up for herself. If not, Samantha would never be the woman she could be proud of.