Читать книгу Heiress - Irene Brand - Страница 9

When she reached her room, Allison kicked off her shoes, dropped down in the lounge chair and pulled the lever to elevate her feet. She welcomed this evening alone to sort out her thoughts and impressions. Right now, her mind was a hodgepodge of crystal chandeliers, opulent furniture, cut crystal, chintz wall hangings and leaded-glass windows. How could she get past all that glitter and grapple with the real issues that confronted her?

It would be easy to succumb to the worries and frustrations of coping with Page Publishing Company, working with an investment broker to keep from losing her uncle’s money and supervising numerous employees, as well as living in a fabulous home that plunged her mentally into the nineteenth century. To be so overwhelmed, in fact, that she could forget about the important things in life. At this point, she was more worried about losing her identity and her purpose in life by becoming Miss New Rich than she was about managing a million-dollar business.

God, she prayed aloud, I can’t cope with this alone. Show me how I can bring myself down to earth when I tend to lose sight of my eternal destiny.

Allison reached for the Bible on the table beside her and turned on the table lamp. For the next hour, she pored over the Scriptures, searching for the doctrines she must heed to stay on the right path, and she was amazed at the abundance of Bible passages that dealt with her immediate concern—how she could balance an abundance of worldly goods with the riches of God’s blessings.

“Remember the Lord your God, for it is He who gives you the ability to produce wealth.”

Had her uncle followed this precept? Did he recognize the power of God in his life? How she wished she knew more about her benefactor.

“Cast but a glance at riches, and they are gone, for they will surely sprout wings.”

A good proverb to remember. Though she desired to be heavenly minded, if she didn’t keep her feet solidly on the earth and tend to important matters of business, her riches would certainly take wing.

“The abundance of a rich man permits him no sleep.”

How true! She hadn’t enjoyed a restful night’s sleep since she had learned about her inheritance.

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth.”

Ah! There was the principle that concerned her. The rich young ruler had been told to sell all he had and give the proceeds to the poor as a prerequisite for discipleship. Did that principle apply to Allison Sayre, too? She had wanted to sell everything, but legally she couldn’t. She tried to think of rich people who had also been faithful followers, and she considered many wealthy entrepreneurs such as the Carnegies and the Penneys who gave vast sums for benevolent purposes. Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea had both been rich, yet they weren’t told to give up their wealth. Apparently there was a need for rich people in God’s kingdom, but it wasn’t easy she surmised when she read, “How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

I’m getting discouraged, God—all I can find are warnings to those who are rich. I gained this wealth through no effort of my own. I don’t even want the responsibility of so many riches, but since I do have it, can’t You give me some assurance that it was Your providence that brought me where I am now? Surely there are some Scriptures to encourage me.

Looking a little further, Allison came upon the passage “For if the willingness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has, not according to what he does not have.” She suspected that Paul had written those words to people who were poor, but couldn’t it apply to her, as well? She was willing to use her riches to advance God’s kingdom and to benefit others. Shouldn’t that count for something? Her greatest comfort came when she read Paul’s admonition in his letter to the Ephesians: “work, doing something useful with his own hands that he may have something to share with those in need.” She had often fretted in the past when she lacked the funds to contribute abundantly to worthy causes—missionaries in foreign countries, those afflicted by natural disasters, the plight of the poor in the city of Chicago. Now she would have money to give to charitable causes. What would she do with the opportunity?

Deciding that she must stop anticipating the future and deal with individual problems as they arose, Allison read one more verse: “I can do everything through Him who gives me strength.” Did she need any more assurance than that? She closed the Bible and prepared to go for the evening meal. After the tasty lunch she had eaten and the pie Minerva had served a few hours ago, Allison didn’t want a large meal. Rather than eat in the dining room downstairs, she leafed through the visitor’s guide on the desk and decided to go to a pizza house a few blocks away.

She freshened her makeup, drew a comb through her shoulder-length hair and telephoned the concierge to order a taxi for her. The elevators were crowded and the taxi was waiting by the time she got downstairs, but within ten minutes she was entering the restaurant. While she was studying the menu on the wall behind the counter, she heard her name.

“How are you tonight, Miss Sayre?”

Benton Lockhart was standing in line behind her.

“I’m fine, but puzzling over what to order. I’ve eaten more today than I usually do, and I’m not very hungry.”

“You might want to try the buffet, which features a variety of pizza, several salads and a small selection of desserts. You can choose as much or as little as you want. That’s what I have when I eat here.”

Taking his advice, Allison ordered the buffet, and as she paid the cashier, wondering if she should be so bold, she said, “If you’re dining alone, Mr. Lockhart, would you mind if I join you? Perhaps we could talk a bit about Page Publishing after we’ve finished.”

“It will be my pleasure,” Benton said evenly, without hesitation.

But Allison wasn’t sure he wanted to join her.

He lifted both their trays and asked, “Where would you like to sit?”

“The section to our left doesn’t seem to be crowded.”

He motioned for Allison to precede him toward a booth near the buffet counter. With a minimum of conversation, they filled their plates, and as they started eating, Allison said, “Perhaps I should apologize for interrupting your meal, but I do need to talk with you, and this seemed like a good opportunity. It’s obvious that you have a busy schedule at the office.”

“Yes, busier than usual today. I didn’t get finished until an hour ago, and I wasn’t keen about going to the apartment and preparing dinner. I often stop here when I don’t want to cook.”

“Then you aren’t married?”

“No,” he said bluntly, definitely closing that subject.

Allison took a bite of double-cheese pizza, and talking was halted for the moment. As the meal progressed, Allison became more and more uncomfortable, for guiding the conversation was left to her. Benton would answer when she made a comment, but he initiated nothing. Although she wanted to know lots of things about him, especially if she had met him before, he seemingly had no interest whatever in her. Much of the time they ate in silence, a silence that Allison found intimidating.

For dessert Allison took a small wedge of fruit pizza topped with kiwifruit, strawberries and peaches, and asked the waitress for a cup of tea. Benton ordered a serving of apple cobbler topped with a double dip of ice cream, and he smiled slightly. “I don’t usually have such a large appetite, but I didn’t take time for lunch today.”

“Do you always work such long hours?”

“Since Mr. Page fell ill I average ten hours each day at the office.”

“Perhaps now that I’m here I can take some of the workload off you. Naturally, I don’t expect to learn everything I need to know at once, but surely I can be of help to you if you’ll tell me what I should do.”

“But you have the roles reversed, Miss Sayre. You’re the employer—you will be telling me what to do.” Did Allison note a bit of sarcasm in his comment? She couldn’t tell. The Benton Lockhart she had met years ago would have been easy to read, but it seemed impossible to get behind the facade dominating this man’s personality. So maybe this wasn’t the Benton she had once known.

She finished the dessert, pushed the bowl to one side and pulled the cup of tea in front of her. She smiled and said, “I’m not foolish enough to think I can assume the management of Page Publishing for a long time. After I came to Columbus and found out the extent of Uncle Harrison’s holdings, I was terrified and asked Mr. Curnutt if I could just sell everything and get out from under the burden, but there’s a codicil to the will that I can’t sell the business for three years.”

“I had no idea what provisions Mr. Page had made for his holdings. He was a very private person, as you may well know.”

Allison shook her head. “You knew him much better than I did. Our family rarely saw him. How long did you work for him?”

“Five years. I worked in all the departments before I became Mr. Page’s assistant.”

“So you know the business from top to bottom?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“May I depend upon you to teach me the things that I need to know?”

“I’m yours to command, Miss Sayre. I’ll do what you tell me to do.”

Allison frowned. “I don’t like that type of relationship. I’ve never ‘bossed’ anyone, and I don’t know how it’s done. In fact, I don’t want to come across as a boss, especially to people who have worked a long time for my uncle.”

“You have no choice. Since you seem to want advice…” He paused and looked expectantly at Allison, and she nodded. “Whether you wanted it or not, you have become the administrator of a company with thirty-five employees. You cannot fraternize with your workers. If you do, you’re going to have people asking for favors, and you’ll create more ill will than the good relationships you’re hoping to foster. You will have to treat all your employees on an impersonal basis.”

“That sounds like a rather lonely life.”

“Make friends outside the company.”

“Even Celestine? I’ve already asked her to call me by my given name.”

His widening smile made his face relaxed and generous. “Celestine is in a different category—she mothers all of us. We can always count on her to smooth over the ill feelings.”

He dropped a tip on the table and stood up. “I have to be on my way, Miss Sayre. I’m expecting a telephone call at ten o’clock, and I must be home by then. May I drop you off at the hotel?”

“No, thank you. I’ll finish my tea before I call a taxi.”

“Very well. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

Allison stared down at the teacup and blinked her eyelids to hold back the tears. She thought Benton’s behavior was downright rude, but she had to admit she had brought it upon herself. She shouldn’t have asked to join him. After working ten hours, he had probably had enough of Page Publishing for one day, but that didn’t keep her from feeling lonely.

After returning to the hotel, Allison took a sheet of stationery from the drawer and wrote a short note to her sister, Cleta:

Don’t say anything about this to the others, but please look in that photo album I showed you, remove the picture of Donald and me with Benton Lockhart and mail it to me. You’ll know which one I mean.

This encounter tonight had almost convinced her that she had not found the Benton Lockhart she had admired, but she wanted to take another look at that photo.

Adra was watching for Allison the next morning, and moving quickly for a man with his age and girth, he hustled down the front steps when she pulled up to the curb in front of the house and opened the right-hand door.

“You can park in the driveway to the left of the house, Allison. That belongs to you, and it will be a lot safer than if we try to unload here on the street. Neil Avenue has a lot of traffic on Saturday mornings.”

He closed the door and she eased the automobile into the narrow driveway that led to a one-car garage separated from the house.

Minerva opened and closed the kitchen door as Adra and Allison emptied her car and carried her things upstairs. When they’d finished, Allison said, “Should I put my car in the garage?”

“Our truck is in there now, but we can move it out,” Adra offered.

“Oh, no, my car is used to sitting out in the weather.” She locked the car doors, and they went into the warm kitchen, where Minerva had some hot chocolate for them.

The sun shone through the windows while they sat at the round table in the alcove, and the friendliness of these two people softened the hard core that had been around her heart since last night’s episode with Benton. They chatted as if she were family—they didn’t seem to think an employer-employee relationship was so important.

The McRameys had no children, and they had sold their farm and moved to Columbus several years ago. “I miss being in the country,” Adra said, “but our property was right at the edge of the city and developments kept edging closer, making the property so valuable that we couldn’t afford to pay our taxes. So we sold out, and when we were looking for a place, we were directed to Mr. Page. He needed some help and we needed a home. It’s been a good life for us.”

“What was the nature of Uncle Harrison’s illness? No one has told me.”

Minerva tapped her chest. “Heart trouble. He had a series of heart attacks that damaged his heart. The last few months he had to have oxygen and constant monitoring, and he chose to go to the nursing home, although we would have taken care of him.”

“I believe Aunt Sarah’s trouble was multiple sclerosis?”

“Yes, she was very young when the doctors diagnosed her. She was an intelligent woman and talented, but she hardly left the house after we came here, and he stayed close by her in the evenings, waiting on her hand and foot,” Minerva said. “He acted guilty sometimes, as if he blamed himself for her sickness and couldn’t do enough to make up for it. She died seven years ago. His life wasn’t easy.”

“I wish I could have known them,” Allison said as she stood up. “I must get busy if I’m unpacked and ready to go to work on Monday. My time will be limited after that.”

“If there’s anything we can do, let us know. I cleared everything out of the closets and chests in your room and the other bedrooms have empty closets. For storage, there are rooms on the third floor we don’t use.”

“Perhaps we can store the boxes up there after I’ve unpacked.”

“Just let Adra know. I’m simmering a pot of soup in our apartment. Plan to eat lunch with us, and I’ll prepare your dinner down here. There’s a small door you can take from the second floor to access our stairway. Come on up when you’re ready to eat.”

Allison had organized her garments by seasonal wear and marked the boxes accordingly. She unpacked her winter clothes and hung them in the room she would occupy, and carried the boxes of spring and summer clothing into one of the spare bedrooms. She would leave them packed for the time being. She stopped at noon and took the stairs to the McRameys’ quarters.

The small stairway opened into their living room, a central squarish area that accessed the other major rooms. The kitchen was marked by a spire that served as a skylight over the McRameys’ table. Their two bedrooms featured dormer windows. After lunch Minerva took Allison into the storage area—odd-shaped rooms that provided plenty of space. The rooms were crowded with castoffs, and Minerva said, “When you have time, you may want to go through here and throw away a lot of stuff. Some of it is junk and should never have been stored.”

Rubbing her hand along a dusty dresser, Allison said with a laugh, “If it’s been here for years, I’ll not worry about it now. If I learn how to manage Page Publishing, I’ll have all I can do for a long time.” And she was determined to learn the business, whether or not Benton was willing to help her. “I’ll have my sister and brother come for a visit sometime and turn them loose up here. They’ll carry away everything my mother will let them have.” She had been thinking about her parents off and on all day, and she said slowly, “My mother didn’t want me to move to Columbus.”

A note of wistfulness must have crept into Allison’s voice, for Minerva’s arm circled her shoulders. “Mothers are like that,” she said. “We all have to cast off on our own eventually. You’ll be all right.”

“I want to spend some time looking around this house, getting to know what is here. Perhaps that way I can learn something about my aunt and uncle.”

“A good idea. You’ll find lots of reminders of them.”

“I’m going to telephone my parents and tell them where I am, and then I’ll get busy again.”

She went into the library to phone and was relieved when her father answered, for she felt better able to cope with him than her mother.

“I’ve moved into Uncle Harrison’s home, Daddy, and I want you to have my telephone number.”

“Are you living there alone?”

“No, a fine couple who have worked for Uncle Harrison for years will be staying with me. I like them, and we’ll get along well, I’m sure.”

“Do you like the house?”

“It’s unbelievable, and not as I would have expected a hundred-year-old dwelling to be. It’s in excellent repair. Uncle Harrison had it refurbished over the past several years. There are ten rooms besides the third floor where the McRameys live, and a full-sized basement—certainly more room and luxury than I need, but Mr. Curnutt thought I should live here for a few months before I make any decision about selling it.”