“No, I will not help to convince my daughter to marry you, Mr. Morgan. If Meredith’s refused you, then I credit her with having good sense. Obviously, she’s aware of the kind of man you are. The kind of man your father was.”
Adam’s expression congested, and his voice turned cold. He’d spent his whole life avoiding comparisons with his father, and he wasn’t about to allow a bitter, old woman to start now. “I’m nothing like my father, Mrs. Baxter. You don’t know me, don’t know anything about me. It’s wrong of you to prejudge who I am because of some alleged wrong my father may have done to your family.
“It’s always been the policy of Morgan Coal Mining and Manufacturing to look out for their employees, and the same was true under my father’s direction. I don’t know why Mr. Baxter was treated in such an uncaring fashion, but you have my word that I will find out.” He stood to leave.
She snorted derisively. “The word of a Morgan is no word at all. I’ve said all I have to say on the matter.” Crossing her arms over her chest once again, she turned her back on him and returned to gazing out the window at a pair of frolicking squirrels, though the sight did not bring her the joy it usually did.
Adam’s expression grew more determined. “But I haven’t. Not on this matter, or the one I came here originally to discuss with you. We shall meet again, Mrs. Baxter. You have my word on it. And be assured that my word is my bond.”
THE FIRST THING ADAM DID upon returning to his office was to call the personnel manager of his company and request the employment files of Henry Baxter.
What he found after going through the man’s records was that Louise Baxter had been technically correct. Henry Baxter had fallen ill to black lung disease. The conditions in the mine at the time of his employment had been deplorable, though in keeping with the standard working practices of the day. And he had not been given any monetary support from the Miner’s Pension Relief Fund to help allay his medical expenses and supplement his meager union stipend.
There were no notations on the records as to why this was so, and the employment manager at that time—a Michael Keebler—had long since died. He made a note to research the other personnel files of the same time period to see if any other infractions had been committed, and to investigate Keebler’s background to learn if he harbored any personal animosity toward Henry Baxter or any of the other miners. They had zero tolerance for such things at MMM.
Adam was extremely upset. To have such a thing happen to any of his workers was unconscionable, to have it happen to Meredith’s father—
God, how she must despise me!
Peter walked in at that moment and pulled up short at the look of despair on his friend’s face. Growing immediately concerned, he asked, “What’s happened? Has there been an accident at one of the mines? Why didn’t you call me?”
Sighing deeply, Adam ran agitated fingers through his hair. “No. There’s been no accident. At least, not the kind you’re thinking of.” He handed his lawyer the folder.
“It seems Meredith’s father used to work for the company. He died of black lung, and his family suffered horribly because we weren’t there for him.”
Peter flipped through the pages, then glanced up at Adam, who was wearing his guilt like an oversize hair shirt. “Henry Baxter obviously slipped through the cracks. You can’t take the blame for that, Adam. It was before you took over the day-to-day operations of the company.”
“But the fault remains mine, Peter. Don’t you see? I’m head of this corporation. Morgans made money off the sweat of miners like Henry Baxter, who paid the ultimate price for our gain. I can’t ignore that or sweep it under the carpet to ease my conscience.”
“I don’t believe for one second that Meredith blames you for her father’s death, if that’s what you’re thinking. She doesn’t have a vindictive bone in her body.”
“Well her mother sure as hell does. The woman practically spit on me when I went to see her this morning.”
Peter’s face colored slightly. “Ah, Sally mentioned something about you not being Meredith’s mother’s favorite person, but I didn’t think it warranted a discussion. Guess I should have known you’d try to win over the old lady.”
“Dammit, Peter! The woman hates my guts. And she’s totally against me marrying Meredith. I haven’t got a prayer in hell now.”
The news of Adam’s proposal to Meredith had surprised the attorney. Though he wasn’t at all surprised that the lovely woman had turned him down. And inside out, apparently.
The lawyer smiled to himself. When it came to romancing a woman, Adam didn’t have a clue. Give the man a business problem or an intricate puzzle and he could solve it. But a woman…The millionaire was hopeless. Instead of buying him a magnifying glass, Peter should have purchased a bulldozer. Adam was not into subtlety. Sometimes you just had to hit the guy over the head with a two-by-four.
“Louise Baxter’s a sick woman, Adam. Very sick, from what Sally tells me. Her heart has deteriorated to the point where only a transplant can save her now. She’s probably at odds with everyone these days. I don’t think—”
Slumping down into his chair, Adam grabbed the sides of his head in anguish. “I had no idea she was so ill, or I’d never have gone there to see her. It certainly wasn’t my intention to upset her in any way, though I’m sure I did. Meredith’s going to hate me for this.”
“Probably. From what I understand, she’s very protective of her mother.”
Pulling his gaze from the pink blossoming cherry tree outside his window, he shot Peter a lethal glare, then said, “I want you to contact two or three of the top cardiac surgeons in the country and have them at my house by ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
The lawyer’s mouth dropped open. “Tomorrow morning? Are you nuts? That’s too short a notice. I can’t possibly make the necessary—”
“Just do it. Hire a private jet, if necessary, to bring them here. And have them contact the Pleasant Acres Nursing Home and find out who Louise Baxter’s personal physician is. They’ll need to review her complete medical records and talk to her doctor about her condition.”
“But I have a date with Sally tonight,” Peter protested, even as he jotted down notes in his book. “We have reservations at The Glass House Grill.”
“Well, you’re going to just have to cancel them. Order in Chinese instead. You’re good at that, I hear.” Adam raised a brow at his friend’s perplexed look, then added, “Mrs. Baxter pointed out very succinctly that there wasn’t a thing I could do to bring back her husband from the dead. She’s right. But there is something I can do to pay back Meredith and her mother for my company’s oversight in dealing with their loved one…. I intend to save Louise Baxter’s life, whether or not she likes the idea.”
Peter couldn’t very well argue Adam’s motive in wanting to save the woman and not come out looking small and selfish. “Sally’s very fond of moo shoo pork,” he conceded, evaluating the benefits of an intimate dinner at home and smiling to himself. It was time to take their relationship to the next level, whatever that might be. He only knew what he wanted it to be and hoped Sally wanted the same.
“Don’t breathe a word of this to your lady friend or Meredith or anyone else. I suspect Meredith will find out soon enough that I visited her mother, and she’s not going to be happy about it, which is why I need those doctors here first thing in the morning.”
“Is there anything else? Like perhaps, oh…I don’t know…maybe parting the Red Sea, turning water into wine?”
He smiled at his friend’s sarcasm. “Yes, actually, there is, now that you mention it. Get me two tickets to the Garth Brooks concert that’s going to be held at WVU next month. Meredith’s a fan, and I’d like to surprise her with them.”
“Tickets to—” Peter’s eyes widened before his expression grew resigned. “Never mind. I’m sure I can find some scalper who’ll part with them. But it’s going to cost you.”
“It always does, Peter. But I’d pay any amount of
money to make Meredith happy.”
“Then why don’t you just give her the one thing she truly wants, Adam, and it won’t cost you a thing?”
The mining mogul popped a handful of sunflower seeds into his mouth, cocking a brow. “What’s that?”
But Peter was already out the door and didn’t answer. Adam thought he’d heard him utter “stupid fool!” before shutting it behind him, but he couldn’t be certain.
SALLY LEANED BACK against the cushions of the comfortable leather sofa and toyed nervously with the cut crystal wineglass in her hand. When Peter had suggested ordering in Chinese and eating dinner at his place, her first reaction had been to say no. But he had been so apologetic about having to cancel their dinner plans, and so frazzled about some project Mr. Morgan had set him to, that she couldn’t possibly refuse and add to his misery, not after all the kind things he’d done for her.
While Peter was occupied in his study making phone calls, Sally took several deep breaths and forced herself to relax. His attractive condo overlooking the river was certainly conducive to relaxation. The interior color scheme of hunter and gold was masculine, yet not overbearing. She loved the cherry wood occasional tables, the hand-hooked rugs on the burnished pine floors, and the touches of brass accents in the numerous candlesticks and lamps. The fireplace had been constructed of fieldstone and lent a cozy touch to the room.
Peter had impeccable taste, but that was something she already knew about him. He dressed exceedingly fashionably in designer suits, knew the correct wines to order with dinner and had recently introduced her to Cabernet Sauvignon. Judging from the leather-bound volumes lining his bookshelves, he was very well read. The perfect Renaissance man come to life, she decided.
As if conjured up by her thoughts, Peter stuck his head through the doorway at that moment and smiled apologetically. “I’ll just be a few more minutes. I’ve got one more call to make, and then I’ll order dinner.”
She smiled effortlessly, which surprised her, considering she’d not had much to smile about before meeting the handsome attorney. But she felt totally at ease with him. She trusted him. “Take your time. I had a late lunch with Meredith.”
“How is she? Did she seem…upset about anything?”
Sally shook her head, her curiosity piqued. “No. Should she be?”
“Just wondering.” Flashing her a grin to conceal his relief, Peter cursed inwardly for worrying about Adam. The man could handle himself. Hell, he ran everyone’s life with perfect aplomb. “Be right back.”
Gazing at her reflection in the antique mirror hanging by the door, Sally was pleased with her appearance this evening. She’d chosen the black knit dress carefully, had taken extra pains with her hair and had applied her makeup as Meredith had instructed, with subtle shades and a light hand. But though she looked presentable, she still couldn’t understand why a polished, successful attorney like Peter Webber, who could have his pick of women, had chosen to bestow his attentions on her.
Though Sally had finished high school, her education had never gone beyond, and she didn’t consider herself to be a scintillating conversationalist, though she was a damn sight smarter than some of those women Meredith had been interviewing as bridal candidates.
She and Peter did seem to have a lot in common, anyway—their love of old Western movies, for one thing, and sadly, the tragic deaths of their parents. They had no trouble communicating, and for that she was grateful. Peter Webber was the first man she’d met in a very long time with whom she felt a strong connection.
Professional counseling had revealed that her unhealthy relationship with her ex-fiancé, Dwayne—the last in a string of unhealthy relationships—had been based on her need to be taken care of, her unrealistic expectations about love.
On her own since the age of seventeen when her parents had been killed in a freak boating accident, Sally hadn’t been able to adjust to life on her own. She’d been thrust out into the cruel world to fend for herself, and it had been easier to find someone who would take care of her, to keep her loneliness at bay, even if that meant abasing herself to the abusive ones she had the unfortunate knack of always finding.
She’d learned since that the only person she could truly rely on was herself, that being alone did not necessarily have to mean being lonely, that aloneness had benefits, like quiet solitude for reading, or learning how to type and operate a computer, which in turn had opened up a whole new world to her.
Sally was proud of the small steps she’d taken toward independence, which was just one of many reasons she didn’t want to foster an intimate relationship with Peter, grow dependent on him, though she desired him more than she’d ever thought herself capable of desiring anyone.
“I bet you’re starved.”
Peter’s voice jolted her out of her reverie, and she smiled softly at him. She was starved. But she wasn’t quite ready to feast. She only hoped Peter would still be on the menu when she regained her appetite.
Chapter Thirteen
“Adam! Adam Morgan, where are you? When I get my hands on you—” Meredith slid to a halt at the sight of the three men standing in Adam’s study, her face flushing red. One she knew—the one she was going to kill. But the other two men were strangers, and she was horribly embarrassed to have been caught behaving in such an unprofessional manner. If they were part of the wedding party, she would have to resign as consultant. Even she had her humiliation limits.
“Come in, Meredith. I’ve been expecting you.” Adam motioned her forward, smiling softly and looking not the least bit surprised by her harried arrival. “My guess is that you’ve been to see your mother.”
The reminder of why she’d come had her green eyes flashing angrily, and she stomped in. “Excuse me,” she said to the strangers, “but I need to talk to Mr. Morgan for a minute.” Tugging on Adam’s sleeve, she dragged him out into the hallway where she could speak to him privately, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the two distinguished-looking men.
“How could you, Adam? My mother is very sick, and you had no right to go to the nursing home to enlist her in this ridiculous quest of yours to marry me. I absolutely forbid you to—”
He held up his hand to silence her. “I’m sorry about your mother, Meredith. I had no idea she was so ill and that she bore me such animosity, or I’d never have mentioned my plan to marry you.”
Noting the sincerity in his eyes, the contriteness in his voice, she inclined her head, her anger deflating slowly. “Mom was beside herself when I arrived at the home, Adam. I had to have her sedated and couldn’t leave there until early this morning.”
Clasping her hand, he squeezed it gently, then brought it to his lips for a kiss. “I’m truly sorry. But my visit was not entirely in vain.”
“Adam—” The warning in her voice was unmistakable.
“Hear me out, before you chew off the rest of my hide. Okay?”
She agreed to listen, and he led her to a small high-backed settee that looked as if it had been used during the Spanish Inquisition, it was that uncomfortable.
“Those men in my office are heart specialists. I’ve brought them here to consult on your mother’s condition.”
Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Heart specialists? I don’t understand.”
“I’ll explain everything to you afterward, but for now their time is limited and I’d like you to talk to them before they have to leave. They can explain far better than I what I have in mind. Will you do that?”
She finally relented, though her expression was filled with exasperation. “Do I have a choice? I get the feeling you’d have me straight jacketed and committed to an asylum if I refuse.”
“Maybe just confined to bed,” he said with a devilish wink, and she blushed to the roots of her hair.
“Dr. Robertson and Dr. Cushman are from the Johns Hopkins University Medical Center in Baltimore,” he explained. “They’re the foremost experts in the field of heart transplantation.”
“But—”
He pressed his fingers to her lips. “Later.”
After being escorted into the study, she forced a small smile for the two men while Adam performed the introduction.
“Miss Baxter, Mr. Morgan has put us in touch with your mother’s physician, Dr. Carpenter, whom we have consulted at length about her condition,” Dr. Cushman informed her. A tall man with white hair and kind blue eyes, he boasted a tanned complexion that bespoke his passion for tennis and other outdoor sports.
“We were allowed to give your mother a rather extensive examination, study her history and medical tests, all with Dr. Carpenter’s permission and assistance, of course,” Dr. Robertson added. He wasn’t nearly as tall or distinguished as Dr. Cushman, but his eyes held the same amount of compassion. Judging from the thickness of his lenses, not to mention his waist, Meredith concluded that Dr. Robertson spent most of his time in front of a computer module rather than on the tennis court or golf course.
“We’re confident your mother’s life can be saved with a transplant,” he continued. “We’re willing to accept her into the transplant program at Johns Hopkins, register her name with UNOS—The United Network for Organ Sharing—and perform the necessary operation when a proper matched organ becomes available, provided you can obtain her permission.
“Mrs. Baxter seems resigned to her fate, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Meredith took a moment to digest everything. Adam had gone to a great deal of trouble to bring these noted physicians to Morgantown. She’d read about Dr. Cushman’s success with heart transplantation, but never imagined that she would actually meet him face-to-face, let alone discuss the possibility of his operating on her mother. The entire episode was too surreal for her to comprehend.
Finally she said, “My mother is resigned to her fate, doctor. We’ve known for a while that a transplant could possibly save her life, but until now have never had that confirmed.
The Wedding Planner Page 13