Читать книгу A Leap of Faith - Lenora Worth, Rachel Hauck - Страница 9

That had not gone very well.

Campbell pulled his sweet red classic ’57 Corvette into the attached open garage of the cottage-style house he’d rented when he’d first arrived in Atlanta, Texas, his mind still reeling from the open hostility and hurt Autumn Maxwell had shown him at her cousin’s wedding earlier today.

She didn’t want to work with him. How was he going to put a spin on that with her father? Richard had gone on and on all summer about the possibility of Autumn one day coming back to the family business. He’d even put that stipulation in Campbell’s contract. And Campbell had agreed, thinking it would probably come a foot of snow in August before he’d ever have to worry about that happening.

He glanced around. “It’s September,” he reminded himself. “And the temperature is in the seventies.”

Not a hint of snow among the tall pines, mushrooming oaks or aged hickory trees. The leaves on some of the trees were beginning to turn, but other than that, things looked perfectly clear.

Except the outlook on his future.

So what had happened today?

How had his life, the life he’d planned and mapped out the day he’d arrived here in this small town, suddenly become a confusing muddle?

Because of that lady with the pretty golden-brown eyes and beautiful auburn-streaked hair.

Autumn Maxwell. The boss’s daughter.

How could such a pretty but aloof woman get to him in such a short time? Campbell prided himself on being able to read women. And on being able to charm them. His Cajun roots didn’t allow for anything less.

Neither ability had worked on Autumn Maxwell. Now the burning question was, why? Or maybe, why not?

He’d thought about nothing else on the long ride back to Atlanta. The woman sure didn’t want to be anywhere near the likes of him. Or maybe, she just didn’t trust men, period. After all, she was a stuffy accountant type. Supposedly.

So are you, supposedly, he reminded himself. And maybe the woman was hostile because he’d taken over the company that would one day belong to her. Well, not so much taken over. Her father was still in charge. But Campbell was the wingman. So to speak.

He couldn’t blame her. If someone else had swooped in and started running a company his family had owned forever, he’d probably be mad as a hornet, too. But then, Campbell thought with a twist of bitterness, his father had lost their family business long before Campbell had been old enough even to work there. That still didn’t set well with Campbell, which was probably the reason he was now classified as a type A personality. A born workaholic, ruthless and too smart for his own good. That’s how some described him.

But those same people sure didn’t mind him investing their money and making them a killing in the stock market. Those people had probably never gone barefooted in the middle of winter or had to wear ratty, hand-me-down clothes from the secondhand store. They’d probably never had to beg for after-school jobs or work twelve-hour days in the soybean and sugarcane fields just to make ends meet.

Parking the car, Campbell turned off the engine and leaned back on the white leather headrest, closing his eyes to the fatigue that seemed to be pushing him down. The old days of stepping out of poverty, only to step on everyone else to get ahead, were long gone. He’d had to take a step back, reevaluate his tactics. He’d been fast approaching burnout down in New Orleans. It had only taken a couple of panic attacks to show Campbell that he needed to slow down, take things easy. And it had only taken one quiet, rainy evening sitting in an empty church somewhere in the Garden District to understand that God, not Campbell Dupree, was the one in charge.

“So that’s how you wound up here,” he reminded himself, his voice echoing through the tiny garage. Campbell had found God, and God had found Campbell a place to hide out and find the rest he needed so much.

But tonight, Campbell felt that old restless energy swirling around him like heat lightning. He couldn’t wait to move out to the beautiful cabin he’d found on Caddo Lake. The cabin was being renovated now, but soon Campbell would be lost out there amid the moss-covered cypress trees and the dark, blue-black waters. The place reminded him of home, of his grandfather’s tiny cabin down near Bayou Lafourche in southwest Louisiana. Once his own more modern version of that cabin was finished, he could fish all day in his pirogue, or just float along with the current. Right now, he had to settle for weekend stays at the cabin.

Campbell Dupree, the risk taker, the adventurer, had a new set of rules: Work hard, but rest easy. Don’t overdo working or playing. Stop. Look. Listen. Appreciate. Have faith.

At least these days, he had more time to devote to the simple life his long-dead grandfather had taught him to appreciate. No more burning the candle at both ends for the new and improved Campbell. No, sir. He might have given up all things Cajun and learned how to blend in with the mainstream world of business, but he could never turn his back on the values his grand-père Marlin Dupree had taught him.

“Stand still and consider the wondrous works of God.”

That verse from Job came to Campbell now. His grandfather had always told Campbell that God was in charge, and that Campbell needed to relax and let God do his work.

But Campbell felt some of that old burning tension inside his gut, white-hot and fiery. Maybe his ulcer was coming back. Or maybe he was just worried about the pretty woman with the chestnut hair and amber eyes he’d left back in Paris. Autumn Maxwell.

He knew all about Autumn Maxwell. Her father doted on his only daughter. Richard had been so concerned about not bothering Autumn, however, he’d neglected to tell her that he’d suffered a light heart attack over a month ago. No one had that information, except Campbell and Autumn’s mother, Gayle. It wouldn’t do for a Maxwell man to look weak.

Especially not to the daughter who was too far away and too caught up in her work to be bothered. Somehow, though, Campbell got the impression that if Autumn had known about her father’s health scare, she would have dropped everything to come back to Texas. She struck him as that kind of person. From everything her parents had told him, at least. And from the shining love he’d seen in her eyes when she laughed and talked with her family.

He envied that.

Campbell had been living underneath Autumn’s soft shadow since the first day he’d set foot inside the plush but comfortable front-street offices of Maxwell Financial Group. Richard had made no bones about how he wished Autumn would come back and work for him. But then he’d explained how Autumn lived in New York and worked for some fancy global accounting and finance firm. Richard had hinted that he probably couldn’t begin to match her salary. Campbell knew the particular firm mentioned and had to agree. Not too shabby. Then Richard had shown Campbell a picture of Autumn when she was younger. Again, not too shabby.

“Why didn’t I recognize her at first today?” Campbell said as he shut the door of the ’Vette and headed into the house. He’d noticed her and realized who she was only when she’d come walking up the aisle of the chapel, her pretty dress shimmering around her slender figure, her amber eyes bright with happy tears.

Well, she’d looked different today, stylish and all dolled up. The woman in the picture at the office had been younger, more fresh-faced and carefree in her jeans and flannel shirt, sitting on a horse. She’d been smiling.

The woman he’d offended today at the wedding had been sophisticated and polished, confident, but she hadn’t smiled a whole lot.

“Okay, maybe she smiled a little bit,” he said.

But not at him, Campbell reminded himself. She obviously was not impressed with the completely impressive Campbell Dupree.

If he really wanted to, Campbell thought as he poured himself a glass of milk, he could at least match her pedigree. He’d come from an old New Orleans family. Old money and a lineage that dated back to some broke but noble aristocrat in France—on his mother’s side, at least. He knew his lineage was part English, part French and sprinkled with Cajun from his father’s side.

But he, just like his long-gone father, had disgraced his mother’s family one time too many to use their geneology for leverage. No, Campbell Dupree did things his way. Always had and always would. And that included running Maxwell Financial Group. Only this time around, he’d have the guidance of God on his side, he prayed. This time around, Campbell would do things his way, but only after he’d prayed to God for help and understanding.

“Whether the heiress-apparent likes it or not.”

Campbell downed his milk, clutched his aching stomach and wondered why it was so important that Autumn Maxwell did approve of him.

“So you don’t approve of your father’s choice to run the firm?”

Autumn turned to her mother, shaking her head. “I didn’t say that. I just said he seems a bit too self-assured and arrogant for my taste.”

Gayle Maxwell settled back in the overstuffed chair in one of the many bedrooms of the Big M ranch house, one hand moving through her clipped auburn hair. “Funny, he reminds me so much of your father.”

“Daddy?” Autumn’s shocked expression reflected in the mirror of the antique vanity. Rubbing lotion over her freshly washed face, she laughed. “Mother, that man is nothing like my father.”

“Not in looks,” Gayle agreed, a hand touching the crocheted pillow she held in her lap. “But…the way he acts. Honestly, I think your daddy handpicked him because they are so much alike.”

Autumn whirled to stare over at her mother, glad the family was staying here at the ranch for the weekend. She wasn’t ready to go home to Atlanta and face Campbell Dupree just yet. “Why did Daddy pick him? I mean, why didn’t he talk to me about all of this? I am his only child, after all.”

Gayle shrugged, then carefully placed the lace pillow back behind her in the chair. “We all urged him to do just that. But you know how stubborn your father can be. He refused to pull you away from your career in New York. He thought you were happy there.”

“I was,” Autumn admitted. “Then everything changed.”

“Well, that’s exactly what happened here, too,” her mother said. “Your uncle Stuart passed on, then James decided to retire from gallivanting around and settle down in Athens. And—” She stopped, taking a breath.

“What?” Autumn asked, getting up to sit on the stool at her mother’s feet. “What is it that y’all aren’t telling me?”

“Your father had a light heart attack a few weeks back,” Gayle said.

Autumn gasped. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“He wouldn’t let me,” Gayle said. “He wouldn’t even let me call James and Elsie. He didn’t want to worry anyone. He said it was too soon after Stu’s death.” She took Autumn’s hand. “He’s fine now, honey, honestly. I watch him like a hawk and he’s got a whole team of doctors lined up to help him. We are blessed that it was very mild.” She shrugged. “You know how he is—he doesn’t like to make a big deal out of things. I had to honor his wishes and keep this to myself.” Then she looked down at the floor. “Of course, we had to tell Campbell—”

Autumn threw down her plastic lotion bottle. “Of course! Let’s tell a perfect stranger, but not our own daughter. I don’t get—” Then she stopped, her hand flying to her mouth at the distress on her mother’s face. “I’m sorry, Mother. This isn’t about Campbell and me. I know Daddy had his reasons, but it still doesn’t sit very well. I’m just glad he’s okay now.”

Gayle nodded. “He is, honey. And he would have told you sooner, but, well, everything is changing so fast with our families these days. Death, weddings, retirements.”

Autumn pulled a brush through her hair. “I guess so. I mean, Summer’s grandparents moved into a retirement home without even letting her know a thing about it.”

“Exactly,” Gayle said, shaking her head. “It’s almost too much to keep up with.”

“And we were all three so caught up in our lives in New York. We should have communicated better.”

“Not that it would have mattered,” her mother replied. “Stubbornness and pride seem to be the dominating traits in our family tree.”

Autumn got up to pace around the carpeted bedroom. “I don’t understand the Maxwell men. Uncle Stuart kept his illness from April until it was almost too late for her to make it home in time to see him before he died. Uncle James had some sort of late-life crisis that had everyone thinking he was going to run off with some rodeo queen, until he broke down and told Summer and Aunt Elsie the truth—that he’s just afraid of getting old. And now this with Daddy. Why can’t they just open up to the people who love them?”

Gayle laughed again. “Because they are Maxwell men, honey. You know the stories and the legends. Rough and tumble, tough and ornery. Their ancestors helped win Texas from Mexico, helped build empires and conquer worlds, including everything from oil to railroads to the Alamo. They can’t show any signs of failure or weakness. And they can’t communicate for anything, I’m afraid.”

Autumn had to agree there. “So he decided to retire after Uncle Stuart died?”

“No, actually just before he died. He hired Campbell back in the spring, but your father officially retired a few weeks ago.”

“Right after the heart attack?”

“That pretty much sealed it, yes.”

“But he decided way back?”

“Yes,” Gayle said, puzzled.

“I knew it,” Autumn said, bobbing her head. “I think April knew about this. I wonder why she didn’t tell me?”

Gayle looked up at her. “Well, she’s had a lot to deal with—her father’s death, moving back to Texas from New York, starting a new job and planning a wedding. Don’t blame her if she didn’t put this at the top of her priority list.”

“Oh, I’m not blaming April. She kept urging me to call Daddy and talk to him. I blame myself—and him, of course.”

“Like father, like daughter,” her mother said, getting up to smooth the wrinkles out of her pink satin robe.

“I’m not quite as stubborn as Daddy,” Autumn retorted.

“Oh, really? So you don’t call it stubborn, turning your father down flat today?”

“That was before I knew about his heart attack. He just told me he’d had a little scare.”

“More like a big scare for me,” Gayle said. “I was so worried.”

“But you didn’t call me,” Autumn said, her heart hurting with all the undercurrents running through this day.

“No, and I’m sorry for that,” Gayle said. “But I promised your father I wouldn’t tell anyone. And I’m sure he won’t like it that I told you today. He’ll think you feel sorry for him, and we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” She walked slowly to the door. “You know, honey, with you girls up there in New York, we just kind of let things slip by. No need to bother them—that’s what we’d always say. I’m beginning to see that was wrong. We need our children around us, no matter good times or bad.”

Autumn followed her mother to the door. “He needs me now, right?”

“Yes, he does. But he’d never admit that.”

“You know I won’t let him down, don’t you, Mother?”

Gayle touched a hand to Autumn’s face. “I know you will do the right thing, darling. You’ve always been a strong girl. And I know you love your daddy.”

Autumn kissed her mother good-night, then turned to stare at herself in the mirror, the silence of the room echoing with a soft rhythm inside her brain. She could do this. She didn’t have any other choice. She was out of work and at the end of the road. And her father needed her.

Autumn looked out the window at the starry night. “I hear You, Lord. I know when You close a window, You always open a door. Or is it when You close a door, You open a window?”

Either way, Autumn knew an opening when she saw one, and this one was clearly showing her the way home.

“I guess I’m going to work at Maxwell Financial Group,” she told her worried expression as she turned back to the mirror. “And that means, I guess I’m going to work with Campbell Dupree. Whether I want to or not.”

Autumn decided she’d need lots of extra prayers tonight. But then, so would Campbell Dupree.