by Girard, Dara
He glanced up, his gaze sharpened. “You think I will fail?”
Curtis stood. “There are different ways to fail. Follow the rules, keep your wife in order and always remember what is important.”
“Brenna understands that my work is important.”
“Your mother understood too. She knew she couldn’t compete.”
Hunter shook his head. “She left because she wanted her own career.”
Curtis tugged on his beard. His voice quiet. “Right.”
“Why do you say it like that?”
“I want you to be careful. Your mother was different.”
“Yes, I know.”
He tossed some papers on the table. “Like you.”
Hunter glanced down at the sketches of new products he had been toying with. He crumbled them up. “You know I doodle when I’m thinking.”
Curtis rested his palms on the table, his gaze as hard as iron. “I want you to rid yourself of this compulsion. Break all your pencils if you have to. Keep things as they are. You have come too far to let your nature stand in your way. I have worked to mold you and groom you and guide you to become my successor. Nothing can stand in your way. Nothing. Not your wife, this or you.” He tossed one of the crumpled designs in disgust. “Do you understand?”
Hunter stood and threw the sketches in the trash. “I won’t let you down.”
Curtis nodded. “No, you won’t. I plan to make sure of that. Here is your schedule. I’ve assigned you to attend two conferences. You’ll also host a cocktail party in a few weeks.”
“Brenna hosted a Christmas party only a few weeks ago. She—”
“If Brenna wants to stay your wife, she will do exactly as you tell her. She’s made a great hostess in the past and this will put you in contact with the right people. People you need to mollify. The guest list is on the next page. I’ve also sent you a soft copy. Your stepmother was kind enough to help. You will also need to make sure you never leave the office before Doran. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I’m waiting for a ‘Yes, sir.’”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your grandfather gave you this position. Don’t think he won’t take it away if he doesn’t think you’re up to the task.”
Hunter shook his head. “But I have—”
“You will do exactly what I say if you don’t want to lose everything we’ve worked for.”
Hunter nodded; Curtis smiled. “Good.” He left the room.
Hunter stood by the window. All his ideas for improving the company had met with resistance. Why? Was he so far off what Randolph wanted to achieve? After a few moments he finally left the conference room and marched down the hall silently swearing. He had to be more careful where he left his sketches.
“How did it go?” Miles asked.
He headed for the kitchen. “You know how it went.”
“I can hazard a guess. People don’t like change.”
He poured himself some coffee. It was worse than that. He had a feeling they were hiding something. “They don’t understand what I’m trying to do.” Hunter took a sip from his cup and glanced at the clock. He swore.
Miles frowned in sympathy. “Did you burn your tongue?”
“No.” He rested his cup down. “Brenna’s coming by for lunch.”
“To make up for the dinner you cancelled two nights in a row?”
“Yes.” He scowled. “I won’t be able to go.”
“She’ll understand. She always does.”
He pulled out his wallet. “I’ll give her my card. She can go buy something.”
Miles pushed it away. “Bad idea. I’ll go as your substitute.”
“My what?”
“Someone should take her out. If not you, then why not me? Trust me. A happy home is a happy woman.”
Hunter raised a brow skeptical. “This coming from a bachelor.”
Miles folded his arms looking smug. “Who has learned from the folly of others.”
Hunter finished his coffee then threw the cup away. Brenna’s patience seemed endless. He knew it wasn’t. “Hmm.”
“Or you can forget about the work, take her to lunch and tell her the truth.”
“Which is?”
“You hate the job. It’s not working for you.”
“It’s working. I’m just facing a few obstacles. I plan to keep up my end of the bargain.”
Miles let his arms fall. “Bargain? What bargain?”
“The promotion. She married a director and I intend to stay one.”
“You were a success in R&D.”
He turned and went to his office. Miles followed. Hunter glanced at a note on his desk calendar. “Take her to the Italian restaurant on Ridley. Don’t worry I have a reservation. Make sure she has greens. She tends to skip her vegetables. Just give me the bill.”
Miles sat, studying his friend. “I’d rather give you some advice.”
Hunter stared at him his eyes dark and dangerous.
He quickly stood. “But that will be another time. I’ll tell her you said hello.”
***
Brenna stepped into the elevators of the Randolph building, rubbing her hands together. The cold had seeped through her gloves and boots, but the excitement of seeing Hunter was already warming her. She treasured the time they spent together although that time seemed to grow less and less.
She stuffed her gloves in her jacket and headed to his office. Doran’s voice caught her attention as she passed a door.
“Hunter, won’t last long.”
She stopped by the doorway.
“Everyone knows it’s his crippled wife that got him the job. Unfortunately, he’s too stupid to use her to the full advantage. Now if she were my wife, I’d have her in front of every camera limping around like a three legged dog and sporting one of our canes. He’ll probably knock her up soon and if the kid ends up like her he might become CEO just for that. But eventually they’ll pull him from the job because sales remain stagnant while he tries to overhaul the company. He doesn’t seem to understand how this company works.” He laughed. “Fortunately, I’ll be right there to pick up the pieces.”
Brenna rested against the wall fighting a wave of nausea as she faced the truth. It wasn’t just because Hunter had a wife that he was promoted. He had a crippled wife. Could that have been the reason he’d chosen her in the first place? To give himself an advantage? Did she blame him? Hadn’t she married him for her own less honorable reasons?
Miles stormed out of the room nearly crashing into her. He offered her a careless apology until he recognized her. His eyes widened. “Brenna. Oh, no.”
She managed a smile. “Hi.”
“Doran is a jerk,” he said softly. “When Hunter finds out—”
She grabbed his sleeve. “Hunter doesn’t need to know.”
“What don’t I need to know?” Hunter asked behind them.
They both turned. “How hungry I am.” She grabbed his hand, drawing strength from his touch although she wanted to bury herself in his arms and cry. “Are you ready to go?” The look on his face told her the answer. Her heart fell. “You have work.”
He held her hand not ready to let go. Wishing he had the words to rid the disappointment in her eyes. He saw a snowflake melt on her jacket. “Yes, but—”
“Forget it.” She pulled her hand away. “I have most of your reasons filed alphabetically.”
“Miles will take you.”
“A babysitter, how nice.”
“He’s not a babysitter. I have a reservation and because I can’t be there—”
“You thought of the next best thing.”
He wasn’t sure how to read her careless tone. “Yes,” he said cautious. “You can order whatever you like.” He reached for his wallet, ignoring Miles’ grimace. “Here. You can go shopping afterward.”
“I did not trudge through the snow and traffic just so that I could go shopping.”
“I realize that—”
He grabbed her arm, his voice low. “This is the reason why you married me, remember? My job is important.”
“You don’t need to remind me why I married you.” She glanced pointedly at his hand. With a fierce sigh, he released her. She walked to the elevators.
He followed. “You’re still angry.”
“I’m not angry,” she said pushing the down button.
She wasn’t. That’s what annoyed him, a part of him wanted her to be. An irrational part of him wanted her to show some annoyance that he couldn’t be with her. Show some emotion that she cared.
The doors opened and she stepped in. “Bye.”
Hunter stared as the doors closed.
“Go after her,” Miles urged.
He briefly rested his palm on the elevator door then spun on his heel. “No, I have work to do.”
***
Brenna welcomed the cold as she walked to her car, the stinging wind invigorating her sinking spirits. She wasn’t upset, she told herself, just disappointed. Yet she couldn’t help remembering Pauline’s words ‘Once he has you, he’ll forget you’. She hadn’t required him to be a real husband, but she hadn’t expected to feel this way. To feel like an extra appendage.
“You’re back early,” Pauline said when Brenna entered the office. “Lunch cancelled?’
“Yes.”
“Again?” she said with emphasis.
“Yes.”
“At least business is booming so it makes it all worth it.”
Brenna hung up her jacket. Yes, that was true. Her business presently was booming. Word had spread of her advantageous marriage expanding her client list and income.
“Richard Denson called again,” she said, handing her phone messages.
Brenna read the note then crumbled it up. “What a nuisance. He’s a literary agent who wants me to write a book about how to marry a rich black man.”
“You did it. Why not write about it?”
She tapped her other messages against her palm, her voice quiet. “Careful Pauline, you’re about to make me angry.”
Pauline turned to her computer. Brenna walked into her office. It was becoming more obvious how strained her relationship with Pauline had become. She knew Pauline didn’t understand or approve of her marriage and she didn’t blame her. It did seem like a cold union. But she and Hunter understood each other. She knew he had to prove himself at work and she wouldn’t get in the way. She didn’t have to worry about bills and being Hunter’s wife wasn’t as bad as it appeared. Nobody knew how they would come up with ideas for the company. Or the times he would lay on her side of the bed just to keep it warm or the extra bookshelves he’d had ordered for her books. It was a side nobody else saw. It wasn’t love, but it was enough. Unfortunately, that Hunter seemed more of a memory than a reality.
At home, she wandered their large colonial house that sat on acres of land now blanketed with snow. She couldn’t deny that there were advantages to being Mrs. Hunter Randolph. She had a chef, a housekeeper, a lovely home, a wardrobe any woman would envy and prestige. But she couldn’t help comparing her marriage to the one he’d shared with Angelina. He’d probably rushed home to her. Laughed with her, smiled at her. Once, while going through his albums, she’d spotted his old wedding photo and noticed something different about him. Sure he was younger, but there was a special look in his eyes that wasn’t just youthful optimism and joy. It was love, shining bright and proud. In her own wedding photo, Hunter looked like a man completing his duty. But she’d known why he’d married her. So why did his lack of affection hurt sometimes? He was always cordial, kind. She hadn’t wanted him to love her and she didn't love him. Did she? She pushed the thought aside. She liked him a great deal, but it wasn’t love. It was nothing like what she had felt for Byron.
Brenna glanced around the living room at the cream overstuffed sofa piled with pillows and a soft throw blanket. A mirror with a hand-painted frame sat on the mantle over the fireplace. Why couldn’t this be enough? He’d given her all that he’d promised. She glanced out the window. Then why did the land sometimes call out to her to walk away and disappear? What did she want?
He arrived late for dinner. She wasn’t surprised. He usually was. Brenna sat at the other end of the table as Mrs. Symnthon set his dinner before him. She had finished her own meal hours ago, but sat with him to keep him company. She didn’t usually sit with him, but the tired look on his face persuaded her to. He looked exhausted—worn. As though something was laying heavy on his mind.
“I came up with an idea to improve your scooter idea,” Brenna said after a few moments.
“I’m not interested in that anymore.”
“Why not?” she asked, trying to sound casual although the question was not.
“I have plenty of other things to focus on. My job is to help run a company, not waste my energy on ideas that will go nowhere.”
She tried not to sigh. “You’ve been speaking to your father again.”
“He is right.”
“What is he right about this time?” she asked, noticing he wasn’t meeting her eyes. “That a new computerized accounting system will be too costly to implement?”
“He just wants to make sure I head this company—”
“The way your grandfather wants you too. Have they approved any of your changes or do they continue to criticize all your efforts?”
“Sales aren’t improving.”
“At least they’re not falling,” she said annoyed. “I may not run a business as large as yours, but I know that a solid foundation is key. I don’t understand why they keep blocking your ideas. They are fantastic.” When he didn’t reply she said, “You’re not a disappointment.”
Hunter met her gaze, startled. “They’ve never said that.”
“They don’t have to. Have they threatened to use Doran?”
He reached for his glass and took a sip.
“Of course they have.” She sat back. “Hunter?”
He set his glass down. “Yes?”
“What’s really going on?”
He looked at her then glanced away. He couldn’t tell her until he was sure. But his father’s behavior had made him curious. Curious enough to check the books. Curious enough to wonder why things in accounting didn’t add up. Curious as to why inventory was disappearing and not being accounted for. “I just have a lot on my mind,” he said in a tone that allowed no further discussion.
She ignored it. “Like what?”
“Like business.”
“What you do in business effects me. I have a right to know.”
“I’m frustrated by the lack of progress.” His lie produced a smile of sympathy.
Brenna nodded. “Give them time. They’ll come around.”
Pleased with his deception he relaxed. “By the way, I want you to host a cocktail party.”
“Okay.”
He hesitated, surprised she didn’t argue. “I have a list of guests.”
“Okay.”
He pulled the list from his jacket pocket and set it on the table. “If you have trouble, Ruby can help you.”
She lifted the list and read it. “I think I can do very well on my own.”
“Good.”
They fell into silence, both not saying what they truly wanted to.
***
Brenna sat in her room, staring at her vanity mirror. She was beginning not to like the Randolphs. They most likely didn’t like her, although they were always polite. She was constantly aware of them watching her. Especially, his grandfather although she could never figure out why. Angelina had grown more distant in past months and Ruby more of an advisor than a mother-in-law. The sense of uneasiness still lingered though there had been little reason for it to. Until now. They threatened to destroy Hunter by forcing him to conform. He’d be nothing more than a puppet to them without his ideas and enthusiasm. She wouldn’t let that happen. They wanted sales
to improve and she would figure out a way to do it. She looked down at her cane then began to smile.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Brenna stared at the door of the deli, sitting among the smell of pickles and pastrami. She saw Miles enter and raised her hand to greet him.
Miles took off his coat and sat. “So you’ve decided to use me as a substitute after all?”
“Something like that. How bad are sales?”
Miles grinned playfully staring at her uneaten sandwich. “Not so bad that you need to take up a hunger strike.”
“But bad enough.”
“It’s not necessarily bad, but not great either. Randolph likes to see big numbers.”
“I think I can help.”
“You don’t need to help. This is business.” His face grew somber. “What Doran said was completely—”
“Doran is an insensitive jerk, but he gave me an idea. Who better to help with ideas than someone who has been a customer for years?”
Miles clasped his hands together. “Hunter wouldn’t want that.”
“Hunter wants to succeed. We both know that.”
Miles sighed heavily. “He wouldn’t want you involved with the company.”
Brenna shook her head. “That’s where you’re wrong. Why do you think I’m here? Because he needed a wife because management should be composed of family men. And that’s what he wants. To be in management so he can become CEO. I can help him with that.” She halted at the expression of sadness on Miles’ face. It was too close to pity. “I don’t mind. Truly. I’m his partner.”
“He cares about you.”
“Yes,” she said waving a dismissive hand. “Just as someone cares about their stock options. That’s not the point. I can help. I’m good at this.”
“No, you don’t understand what—”
She picked up her sandwich ready to take charge. “When we come up with a plan, we’ll go to Curtis first; Hunter won’t be able to argue with him.”
“I’m not sure—”
“We could do print ads maybe even a commercial one created for TV and one to go viral.”
Miles frowned although her idea intrigued him. “We’ve never done a commercial. We don’t know anything about that. And the cost—”
She began to smile. “Don’t worry, I know someone who can help us.”