by Sara Logan
Alex smothered a grin at her businesslike tone. "Passing through on business. The secretary gave me Mr. Lennox's home telephone number and I talked to him. He suggested that I come by the office and meet you. Your grandfather hasn't retired, has he?"
Christina shook her head, and her concern for her grandfather softened her voice. "Not yet. He had a heart attack after Christmas and the doctor won't let him come back to work, so he keeps an eye on things from home."
Alex frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that. Who is running the firm?"
She straightened her shoulders and met his gaze. "I am."
"Indeed? I hadn't realized that you had joined the firm in quite that capacity. Mr. Lennox didn't mention it the last time he came over to see us."
"His last trip over was just before my parents were killed in an air crash," Christina said steadily, trying not to let her anger and intense dislike of this man show. "I had just graduated from college, so I came into the firm then. It's only recently that I've taken over the administrative end of things."
"I see. I didn't know about your parents, Miss Lennox," he added quietly, his voice and face expressionless. "I knew your father managed the office here and your grandfather still did the buying overseas."
"It was the part he most enjoyed," Christina admitted.
"Will you be taking over the buying as well?" he demanded, frowning at her. "You've not had much experience at that, have you?"
Her dislike escalated. "I have already accompanied my grandfather on several buying trips, though not to Scotland. I trust I can handle that end satisfactorily."
His dark brows flew up. "I wasn't questioning your ability, Miss Lennox, just your lack of experience. If you can do as admirable a job as your grandfather has done all these years, the firm will be fortunate indeed. I'm sure he's trained you well, so don't ruffle those feathers at me! No criticism was meant or implied," he added, his amusement showing very clearly in his voice.
Christina took a firm grip on her temper. "Will you be in Charlotte long?" she asked.
He grinned as though he realized that she was hoping his stay would be brief. "I go to Atlanta tomorrow, but I'll be coming back through Charlotte at the end of the week. Your grandfather wanted me to meet you, presumably since you'll be the one coming to see us next autumn, and he suggested you might have dinner with me."
Nothing, Christina thought, would induce her to go out to dinner with this mocking, arrogant man! "I'm very sorry, but I already have a dinner date, Mr. Stewart," she said sweetly, not sounding sorry at all. "Perhaps another time?"
Blue eyes clashed with black and he slowly nodded. "If you're sure you couldn't break it?"
"I'm sure," she said coldly.
"Then I'll take the rain check you offered and ring you up when I get back at the end of the week. Now, there are a few items your grandfather wanted me to show to you that we have started stocking recently. He thought you might be interested."
The day seemed to be going from bad to worse, Christina thought as she parked her car in the driveway of her home. The service station had managed to get the car started but had assured her that she would have to have a new battery before it would really be fixed. The rain still swept down in windy gusts as she dashed into the house.
Bess, the cook, prop and mainstay of the household, who had been with the Lennox family since Christina was a mere baby, met her in the hall. "Mr. Richard wants you. He's in the living room."
Christina glanced at the tall grandfather clock at the foot of the spiraling stairs before handing Bess her wet raincoat. "Now?" she asked.
"Now," Bess said firmly. "He said as soon as you came in to ask you to come see him."
Christina sighed as she hurried to the living room. Any delay now would make her late getting ready for her dinner with James—and he hated waiting!
"Chris," her grandfather said. "You're wet, child. It is a nasty day, isn't it? Bess, bring Christina some hot coffee. She's wet to the skin."
"Not now, Gramps. I'll change first, if you don't mind."
"I know you have a date with James, honey, but I need to talk with you. Go and get on dry clothes, and then perhaps we'll have time to talk before he gets here."
Christina looked alertly at the lined, concerned face of her grandfather and kicked off her damp shoes. "Let's talk first and then I'll change. Bess, I'll take that coffee now."
"If you're sure… ?" Richard Lennox asked, easing back down in his favorite wing chair.
"I'm sure."
"Did Alex Stewart see you? I knew you had a date with James, but I thought, this once, you could change it to tomorrow…"
Goodness, Chris thought, was the whole world conspiring to throw Alex Stewart in her way? She glanced at her grandfather and forced herself to appear calm and composed and unconcerned. "I couldn't, Gramps, but Mr. Stewart said he'd call me when he comes back to Charlotte the end of the week. I hadn't realized he was so young," she heard herself saying.
"He's in his early thirties. He inherited the firm from his father about three years ago. I knew his father well. Chris, I must talk to you about our firm." Her grandfather hesitated briefly. "I saw Dr. Benton today, and he says that it would be very foolish of me to try to go back to work."
Christina nodded, her concerned gaze going over his pale face. Richard Lennox looked much older than his seventy-one years. His sunken, tired eyes and shaky hands betrayed the terrible toll that the heart attack had taken. However, his cheerful, positive attitude belied the fact that he was still so frail. She knew, though, that the attack had left him weak, and he seemed unable to get his strength back. She had worried about his coming back to work, yet she knew she could not continue to carry the burden of the firm alone. There was simply too much work for one person. Before her father's death, he had done the lion's share of the work for the last few years, letting her grandfather deal mainly with the buying. Since the air crash that had claimed her parents, Christina had worked harder than she'd ever worked in her life. She had learned the business, had taken over more and more responsibility, and, since Christmas, had completely run the firm.
"Then we'll have to hire someone. There's too much work for one person," she said firmly.
"I know that, Chris. But I'm trying to think beyond today, child. You and James are getting married in August, and he's made it very clear to me that he doesn't want you to continue at the office. If you're going to work, he'll expect you to help him with his own two import shops… and rightly so, Chris. A wife's place is beside her husband." He waved a thin, veined hand when she opened her mouth to interrupt. "No, don't protest. He did me a favor by being straight about it. He doesn't want his wife working full time. He said that, until you have children, he will agree to your helping him out with the two shops, but your staying in my business is out of the question. So that leaves me two choices, my dear. I can hire a manager and a buyer for the firm, or I can sell the business. And, frankly, the latter seems to make the most sense."
Christina stared at her grandfather in amazement. Surely he must see how callous and selfish James's attitude was. She loved the firm; how could she give it up? But he seemed to defend her fiancé's opinion. She wondered if that was only to spare her feelings and then decided that she was just overly sensitive about James because of what she had learned from Sandy at lunch. Perhaps James's attitude was reasonable.
"But, Gramps…" she began.
"No, hear me out. Even if you weren't leaving to get married, the firm couldn't continue to prosper with a manager. We've done well with it as a family business, but to get the caliber of manager we'd want, to keep the firm going strong and even growing, would require a salary that would be too heavy for the firm to bear."
Richard Lennox stopped suddenly and put his hand over his eyes.
"Gramps!" cried Christina, in alarm. "Are you all right?"
After a moment he looked up at her and managed a smile. "I think so," he admitted. "It's just a little shortness of breath."
&n
bsp; "Let's talk about this later, when you're feeling better."
"No, I'm all right," he said and returned to the subject of the future of the business. "We'd have your salary and the manager's to cover, and it would leave very little to put back into the firm if I continued to accept the share I now get. Yet, if I don't accept a partner's share, I couldn't keep this place going, Chris. It's a big house and an old one. Too big for you and me, really, but it's been in our family for generations and I don't want to sell it. You can sell it when I'm gone," he said as matter-of-factly as if he were planning a trip to the mountains. "I'm serious, child, so don't argue. The business just can't support me, this house, you, and a highly paid manager. Not and have anything left over to use to help the firm grow. It would start to dwindle, and in a short time it would be impossible to sell it. If we sold now, while it's quite prosperous, we would make enough to keep me and the house for the rest of my life, and you would get your father's share, which would be a tidy nest egg for you and James. The time to sell a firm, Chris, is when it's doing well, not when it's starting to slip. I've had a good offer for it, but I told them I wouldn't give them a decision until I talked to you."
Christina sat for a moment in stunned silence. It had never occurred to her that the firm would be sold. She had realized that her grandfather could not continue working, but she had thought it a simple matter to hire a manager to run the office while she took over the buying side. She swallowed a sudden painful lump in her throat and said nothing.
"What do you think, Christina?" persisted her grandfather.
"I—I don't know. I'd never thought about selling it. I see your point, but it's rather a surprise. How long do we have to think about it?"
"A few days. The man interested in it has a flourishing import business in Florida and wants to expand. He's talked to me before, when your father was alive, and we said no. But now…" The old man's voice trailed off sadly.
Christina again considered James's adamant attitude about her working in the firm after they were married. They had argued about it on more than one occasion, and she knew that he would persist until she gave in and resigned. He would tolerate her working until her grandfather could get someone to manage the firm but not indefinitely. And if you don't marry James? a little voice asked in the back of her mind. What would she do then? Even if she stayed in the firm, Gramps had just explained why it couldn't support both of them and a manager, too. Christina couldn't see that they had any real choice. It was a matter of either selling now, while the firm was healthy and would bring a good price, or selling when it had started slipping and might not bring enough to support even Gramps.
"I—I think we'd better sell, then, Gramps. Are you sure we'll get enough to take care of you and the house?"
He smiled. "We'll get more than enough for that, and a nice sum for you, too. Sleep on it, Chris, and we'll talk about it again tomorrow."
"Miss Chris, if you're going out at seven, you'd better start getting changed," Bess said, standing in the doorway of the living room. "Mr. James gets mad when he has to wait."
Christina wasn't too worried about whether James got mad or not, but it annoyed her to recall that he had never made any effort to hide his irritation and had several times displayed his temper in front of Bess. Christina frowned but rose obediently and went slowly upstairs to her bedroom, her mind churning with confused thoughts of James, Monica Norland, selling the firm, and, oddly, Alexander Stewart, who so patently doubted her ability to run the firm alone. She wondered what he would say if they sold the firm. Would he assure her grandfather that it was the only thing to do, since Christina could not successfully continue to run it without assistance? Or would he be sorry that he would no longer be dealing with her and her grandfather? Probably. He had had their exclusive business for years, and the new owner might already have contracts or other arrangements with some other Scottish firm.
Christina forced herself to throw off these gloomy thoughts and decided that she had looked and felt bedraggled long enough for one day. She riffled through her closet and chose a new red dress, made of a soft, clinging material and cut low in front, a dress that would cheer up anyone, even someone in her confused state of mind. She would need all the assurance she could muster for her coming interview with James and she wasn't willing to go out to dinner still looking like a wet, disheveled kitten. Humming a little tune to give her courage, Christina headed for her bath.
Chapter Two
In spite of the red dress and James's compliments, dinner was a strained and miserable two hours. Afterward Christina could never remember what she had had to eat, or, indeed, if she had eaten anything at all. James, after a brief question or two about her preoccupation, ate his dinner in sulky silence, with a comment or two on the most general of subjects.
"Let's go back to the house for coffee, James," she suggested, trying to keep her tone light. "Gramps said he was going to bed early, so we'll be alone."
"You've arranged for us to be alone? That's different…"
Christina blushed and bit back the sarcastic words that rose to her lips. This conversation was going to be difficult enough without quarreling in the restaurant.
Later, Christina sipped her coffee and looked at the man standing so confidently across the living room from her. She mentally braced herself for what was to come.
What she must ask James was difficult, but it was essential that she have some answers now. Her fiancé, leaning negligently against the glass doors that led to the veranda, looked so big and sure of himself. Surely it wasn't true, her mind cried out. But she did have to know. She took a deep breath, cleared her throat, and sternly reminded herself that she had avoided the issue long enough. She must come out with it. Squaring her slender shoulders, she addressed him. "James, we need to talk."
His sherry-brown eyes rested indulgently on her and he grinned. "Talk away, Chrissy," he said.
She paused for a moment and then continued resolutely. "I—I have been told by several people that you… that you have been seeing another girl. Monica Norland," she added in a rush. "They said you'd taken her to the beach several times for a weekend and up to your cottage at the lake. James, it's not true, is it?"
The silence stretched tautly as he turned sharply and stared at her, his handsome face marred by a frown. "Who is this 'they' you're quoting? Who told you any such thing?"
So it's true, Christina thought, or he would have come right out and denied it. She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and an odd roaring in her ears. Blue eyes stared angrily at brown ones, and after a moment he looked away.
"Who told me doesn't matter, does it? Is it true, James?"
"No," he said curtly, turning back to stare out the glass doors that looked out on the dark garden. "It's nonsense," he continued.
Christina felt a rush of reassurance, but it only lasted an instant. If one catty friend had reported this she wouldn't have paid any attention. James was good-looking, a very eligible bachelor, and popular with the girls; some were frankly jealous of Christina's luck at becoming engaged to him. But the problem was, Christina did know James quite well.
He had, even in high school, been notoriously fickle and since then had gained a reputation as a swinger. Christina had thought all that had stopped when they became engaged. Now she was wondering. Sandy had always been a good and loyal friend and she had no reason to lie about James and Monica. Sandy was herself engaged and very much in love with Tom, so she wouldn't be feathering her own nest by disturbing Christina's. The fact that Sandy hadn't volunteered the news and the reluctance that she had shown in telling it, even when asked, convinced Christina that it was true. Sandy had not wanted to hurt her but evidently felt that it was in Christina's best interests to know about it now instead of later, after she and James were married. Christina, in spite of her own shock and pain, was keenly aware of how much it had disturbed Sandy to tell her.
"James," she pursued, "were you at the beach two weekends ago? I thought
you'd gone to Raleigh on business, but I understand you were seen at the beach."
"I was in Raleigh, as I told you. Chrissy, what is this? Who's been spreading tales about me?"
Christina stared numbly at him. He's lying, she thought. Whatever else he had or hadn't done, he had gone to the beach that weekend. Too many people had seen him for there to be any chance of a mistake. So if he'd lied about being there it was because he did have something to hide.
Christina swallowed the tears forming in her throat and stood up. "I'm sorry, James. I can't accept that. You were definitely at the beach that weekend. Quite a few people saw you. You were also seen at the lake on weekends when you told me you were going to be working. All those times you were with Monica Norland."
James came swiftly across the room and attempted to pull her into his arms, "Chrissy, honey!"
"Stop it! Don't lie to me, James," she said fiercely, pushing him away. "I knew you were a freewheeling bachelor. Well, that was all right; you were single and there was no reason why you should have been anything else. But we've been engaged for nearly a year, the wedding is scheduled for August, and now I find that you…"
James recovered his poise quickly, grabbed her hands, and held them tightly. "Honey, I swear it's not true," he began, shaking his head. He looked into her face and nodded. "You don't believe me, do you?"
Her face gave him his answer.
"It didn't mean anything, I swear!"
Christina still said nothing, and he could see that she didn't believe that, either. She turned away from him and choked down tears.
"Well, it's true," he admitted, "but it's not what you think. I don't love that girl, Chrissy!"
"That makes it even w-worse," she choked. "If it were love it would be something I could understand… maybe."
"Has it ever occurred to you that this whole thing might be partly your fault?"