Читать книгу A Sweetheart for the Single Dad - Victoria Pade - Страница 8

Chapter Three

“If I lived in that part of Wheatley I’d hate us, too,” Lindie concluded.

It was lunchtime on Thursday. Lindie was in her office on the top floor of the Camden Building that housed the offices for all ten of the Camden grandchildren. But the door was closed and no one was in on that particular lunch but Lindie and her grandmother.

Georgianna Camden—who everyone called GiGi—had brought beautiful Cobb salads for Lindie and herself to eat so that Lindie could report on her first two encounters with Sawyer Huffman.

As matriarch of the Camden family, GiGi had been the one to read the journals kept by the late H. J. Camden—founder of all of the Camden enterprises, great-grandfather to Lindie, her brothers, sisters and cousins, and father-in-law to GiGi.

As much as all of the current Camdens wished it wasn’t true, having H.J. on a list of modern-day robber barons was not unfounded.

Rumors and accusations had always swirled around H.J.; his son Hank, who was GiGi’s husband; and Hank and GiGi’s sons, Howard and Mitchum. Through the years various people had claimed their business practices were dirty, unscrupulous, underhanded, ruthless and all-round heinous. The men themselves had denied any wrongdoing. And since they’d been loving, caring husbands, fathers and grandfathers, those denials were believed within the family.

Until H.J.’s journals had been discovered at the Camden ranch in Northbridge, Montana.

Reading the journals had proved to GiGi that most of the accusations against the men that all of the current Camdens had loved and respected were actually true. As a result the current Camdens were attempting to seek out some of the people who had taken the brunt of former Camdens’ misdeeds and trying to make it up to them directly or through remaining family members.

Settling business grudges was hard enough. Personal grudges, as with the Huffmans, were even tougher. And what had occurred for personal reasons now had business consequences for the Camdens.

“It’s just awful, GiGi,” Lindie went on. “Seeing firsthand how, because of us, people have lost their livelihoods. How perfectly nice homes are now run-down. How hard times are causing domestic violence and crime and families coming apart at the seams and—”

“Okay, okay, slow down, Lindie,” her grandmother interrupted. “You’re getting carried away again. I know you think you have to cure all the ills in the world but you’re supposed to be working on trying to curb some of that, remember?”

“I know. I know,” Lindie said. “But—”

“No buts.”

“But there are kids and—”

“No buts!” GiGi raised her voice. “You need to stop this! To toughen up. We’ve caused problems. We’ll do what we can about them. We’ll do whatever it takes to avoid them in the future. But that’s not what you’re supposed to be looking at now and so far that’s all you’ve talked about. We’ve finished with lunch and I still haven’t heard anything about Sawyer Huffman. The situation with him is what we need you to work on now.”

Lindie took a deep breath and exhaled, knowing her grandmother was right; that she did need to get control of her runaway compulsion to save everyone.

“It’s one thing to be sensitive,” her grandmother went on lecturing. “To care as much as you about...well, everything. We’re all proud of that in you. But you can’t take care of everything or everyone. There has to be limits and you still have to learn when and where to set them. So for right now, let’s just concentrate on Sawyer Huffman.”

Sawyer Huffman with those pale, crystal-clear blue eyes shot through with silver rays...

She might not have said much about him yet but her grandmother didn’t need to be worried that she wasn’t concentrating on him. Yes, her sense of responsibility and guilt was in overdrive again when it came to Wheatley, but not even that had kept her from thinking far, far, far too much about Sawyer Huffman.

Although she had to admit that her thoughts were less on the situation than on the man himself. The image of that sculpted face...that dented chin. The way his lips quirked just so when he smiled. Those broad shoulders and big, big hands and arms he liked to cross over that impressive chest...

Even the deep, whiskey tone of his voice had gotten to her so much she’d been having trouble not thinking about him. And she’d tried. Boy, had she tried!

She just hadn’t succeeded.

“He’s pretty unwavering about us and not taking us on as clients,” Lindie told her grandmother, using business to defuse some of those rampant thoughts about Sawyer Huffman. “He’s nice enough about it. He’s not hostile and so far I haven’t seen signs that he bears too much of a grudge for what went on with his father. He mentioned that it was an influence on him but he hasn’t said more than that.”

“Yet.”

“Right. Yet. But up to now all I’ve seen is that he’s very matter-of-fact about how much he likes the role he’s carved out for himself as our enemy. It’s a role he thinks needs to be filled on behalf of places like Wheatley and its residents, and I’m not sure how—or if—I can get him to change anything. He doesn’t even seem to care about the money he could make from us. I don’t think it even tempts him, so I’m not quite sure what will.”

“These things always look impossible at the start,” GiGi insisted. “Especially this one because Samuel Huffman and Huffman Construction rebounded so well after what your uncle Howard did that I couldn’t find any way that we could make anything up to him directly. That’s why you have to really get to know his son. That will help you find a way in. Then you’ll be able to figure out what we can do in the form of restitution for what happened in the past and, hopefully, get us on the path to better relations for the future. This project is tailor-made for you, Lindie. You like to fix everyone’s problems and I think this is a good avenue for that. You just can’t let yourself be pulled in other directions. Put the problems of Wheatley, its economy and the people in it on hold for the time being and just find a way to fix things with Sawyer Huffman first. Tunnel vision—you have got to develop some!”

Lindie nodded, understanding what her grandmother was saying. Agreeing with it. She just wasn’t altogether sure she was capable of ignoring so many other problems to deal only with the task she’d been given.

But there was a lot riding on this particular mission beyond making amends. Huffman Consulting turned every proposed new store into a political hotbed to keep it from happening. The situation needed to be neutralized somehow and it was her job to do that.

“I’m volunteering this afternoon at the Wheatley Community Center so I can see him again,” she said, wondering after the words were out why that didn’t sound as businesslike as it should.

“Okay, but remember that he’s your goal. Don’t get sucked into other things,” GiGi warned, apparently not hearing what Lindie had heard in her own words.

“I won’t,” she promised as her grandmother stood to leave.

“Keep me posted,” the elderly woman said by way of a goodbye.

“I will,” Lindie assured her.

Once she was alone in her office she chastised herself for what she’d said.

Technically it was true that she was volunteering at the center to see Sawyer again. But it wasn’t as if seeing him again was for pleasure.

And yet...

Okay, she was looking forward to seeing him again, she admitted to herself. She didn’t want to be, but she couldn’t help it.

The guy was great-looking. He was intelligent. Interesting. He had a sense of humor.

And she was only human. If she’d met him at a party she would have hoped he’d ask for her number or ask her out.

But even if they’d met under those circumstances, even if there wasn’t history between their families to start things off on the wrong foot, even if he wasn’t her business foe, he still wasn’t someone she would be looking at as a potential partner, she reminded herself.

At thirty she knew it would be naive and unrealistic to expect to meet eligible men who didn’t have any romantic problems in their past at all. Sure, she’d never been married, didn’t have any kids, and it would be nice to find someone in that same situation. Someone who’d had just a couple of serious relationships in their past to teach them a thing or two and leave them with valuable experience that wasn’t baggage they’d never be able to leave behind.

So given that that requirement might narrow the field a little too much, she was okay with a past that included a divorce. She even tried to look on the bright side by acknowledging that while a divorce was a bigger deal than a long-term romance gone bad, she could still consider it evidence that the man could make a serious commitment, that he could get all the way to the altar.

What she didn’t want was a man who had a child.

She loved kids. She wanted kids. But she really wanted her kids to be the only kids her husband had. She really didn’t want someone who was pulled in two directions—toward the family he had with her and the family he’d started with someone else.

At thirty she knew that also narrowed the field, but that was a narrowing she was willing to accept to have a man without lifelong complications from his past.

And Sawyer Huffman had a child.

To her that put an immediate kibosh on the slightest idea of anything romantic between them, even if there weren’t the obstacles of family history and business.

It was just that the man also had a lot to offer at a glance...

Those looks.

That confident, brash, strong personality tempered with humor and what appeared to be an even temper.

That sexiness that just seemed to be natural to him without him putting any effort into it.

And that whole fighting-for-the-underdog determination that really hit home for her.

That was a whole lot that was impossible to ignore and, yes, it did make her want to see him again.

But if she controlled anything, she vowed, it was going to be what she would only admit reluctantly might be an attraction to him.

Because there just wasn’t anywhere for that to go. There just wasn’t anywhere she wanted it to go. Anywhere she would let it go.

As far as she was concerned, Sawyer Huffman already had three strikes against him.

The bad history between their families, their professional conflicts and a child.

And that counted him out as a relationship prospect regardless of his appeal.

Because as determined as she was to get this job she’d been given done, she was even more determined about that!

* * *

Angel, Casey, Biz—who was really Elizabeth—and Clara. Lindie had repeated the names of the four Murphy sisters several times to remember which was which as she worked with them in the community center’s kitchen that afternoon. Angel was the oldest at eleven, Casey was nine, Biz was eight and Clara was seven.

They were the four girls whose dad had died, whose mother had turned to computer crime to support them, who were now living with their grandmother while their mother went to jail.

When Lindie had arrived at the center she’d again said only that she was there to see Sawyer. But this time she was asked her name and when she gave it—only Lindie—the woman who introduced herself as Marie greeted her warmly and said, “Sawyer told us you might be coming to volunteer.”

Marie had then cheerily explained that she was the volunteer coordinator and that it was her job to familiarize new volunteers with the center’s layout and to put them to work.

A tour was the first order of business and as Lindie was shown the recreation room, she saw Sawyer in the distance at a chess table, playing chess with the boy—Parker Cauzel—who he’d been asked to talk to on Monday.

Sawyer appeared to be watching for her because he spotted her the minute she entered the rec room and waved. But that was the extent of their interaction. He stayed at the chess table and Marie kept Lindie occupied.

It made her wonder if he’d set up the whole thing to make sure she didn’t get to him. And while that frustrated and concerned her since she was there expressly for the purpose of seeing him, it also disappointed her and struck a bit of a blow to her ego.

He’d warned her that he spent Thursdays with the kids and wouldn’t be available to her. But she hadn’t taken that too seriously.

Since she’d been so eager to get there today to see him, it was a little demoralizing to think that he hadn’t been as eager to see her; that instead he might have arranged for her to be intercepted by someone else to keep her away from him.

In fact, it was more than a little demoralizing.

But with no choice except to go through the new-volunteer orientation with Marie, that’s what Lindie did. When it came to deciding where her skills could be best used and she tried for the rec room, she was told that there were enough volunteers in the rec room today. Instead she was steered toward the kitchen where help was needed.

Still, making the best of the situation and hoping to connect with him later, Lindie had jumped in in the kitchen and accepted the assignment of making a snack using what was available—several boxes of graham crackers.

Since there were also the ingredients for frosting, Lindie made a suggestion and got the okay before she was left with the four Murphy girls to get to work.

“This was our favorite afterschool snack when I was little,” she said as she taught the girls how to make a simple chocolate frosting. Then she and the two older Murphys spread the frosting on one side of graham crackers, handing them over to the younger girls to top with a second graham cracker and stack on plates.

As they worked it didn’t take much for the girls to warm up to her—they were impressed with her hair and interested in how she twisted it in back and left curls to erupt out of the twist at her crown. They liked her simple twill slacks and the embroidery down the front of her blouse. They loved her shoes—ballet flats that were the same blue-black of her pants and had white polka dots all over them.

The longer they worked together, the more they interjected information about themselves, too, letting Lindie get to know them. She concluded that they were lovely, polite little girls trying to cover up the fact that their mother had done something wrong.

By the time they had several plates stacked with the graham cracker sandwiches, which the sisters were very impressed with, Lindie was beginning to feel like one of the girls.

“Do we bring these around to everyone now?” she asked, hoping it would get her nearer to Sawyer.

“Everybody knows to come in to see if there’s something when they want to eat,” Angel informed her just as Clara was motioning to Lindie to bend so she could whisper in her ear.

When Lindie did, the seven-year-old said, “Could I bring one home to my gramma? She likes chocolate but we couldn’t buy any at the store yesterday because she had to buy so much other stuff for us to eat. We had to put her candy bars back when we didn’t have enough money at the end.”

And that was as much as it took to break Lindie’s heart.

She had no idea what the center’s policy was on sending food home. She’d used all the graham crackers available to arrive at the number of portions Marie had said she should have, and she couldn’t risk that other kids there might go without if she wrapped even one up for Clara.

But during the tour she’d been shown the employee’s lounge and where to put her purse. And she’d seen a vending machine there.

So, ruled only by her need to send something chocolate home with that child, she said, “I think we only have enough crackers for the kids here. But if you don’t tell anyone, I know where I can get a candy bar for you to take home to your gramma.”

Clara beamed with delight. “She likes the ones with nuts.”

“It has to be just between you and me, though,” Lindie warned, worried that she was stepping over some kind of boundary. “Do you have a backpack or somewhere we can kind of hide it?”

“A backpack, yeah,” the little blond girl confirmed.

While the other sisters and more kids began to wander in to take the snacks, Lindie slipped away to the employee lounge, got money from her purse and went to the vending machine.

Since she was alone in the lounge—and thinking that she couldn’t send Clara Murphy’s grandmother a candy bar without sending treats for the girls, too—she ended up putting five candy bars into her pockets before a voice from behind her said, “Are you having a blood sugar crisis?”

She jumped.

Unlike her first visit to the center, this time she recognized the voice.

Sawyer.

She’d been so intent on what she was doing she hadn’t heard him come in. Or step up to stand close behind her.

She turned around to face him, still wondering if he’d arranged for her not to get near him today. And if he had, what was he doing there now?

“Hi,” she said, taking in the sight of him in what she assumed was the remainder of his work suit—grayish-blue slacks and a light blue shirt he wore with the collar button unfastened and the long sleeves rolled to mid-forearms.

Yep, still terrific-looking.

If only that could be toned down some.

“Is there a reason you’re stuffing candy bars in your pockets?” he reiterated.

“The profits go to the center?” she said with a nod at the note taped to the machine.

It was a lame answer and he saw through it. “Try again?”

She told him what she was doing.

“That’s not a good idea, Lindie,” he said when she had. “Kids will work you, if you let them. And even if the candy really is for Gramma, kids also talk and you’ll have this whole place wanting you to do the same thing for them. Plus once word gets out that you’re a soft touch or kids think you’re gullible you could be in line for—”

She knew he was right. She’d been in this situation before too many times to count. And yet... “Clara is seven. She isn’t a mastermind manipulator. And all she wanted was one lousy chocolate-frosted graham cracker to take to her grandmother. My grandmother took me in—along with my brothers and sisters and cousins—when we didn’t have anywhere else to go, too. Granted, money wasn’t an issue, but I can’t imagine how awful I would have felt if she’d had to sacrifice something she wanted to feed us. I felt bad enough about other things, it would have been even worse to know that. It’s just a few stupid candy bars and I’ve already told Clara she can’t say anything about it. But even if she does and I end up having to buy them for the whole place, then fine. But today Clara needs to take her gramma a treat and I’m going to make sure she can. Shoot me.”

He shook that handsome head of his. Just when she thought he was going to tell her there were rules against this or something along those lines, he sighed and said, “I know the Murphy girls. I know that they’re good kids and that none of them is diabetic or has allergies—because if you don’t know those things, you could be causing real problems with treats like this. But because I know that with these particular kids it’s probably okay... Come on, I’ll play lookout while you give them to her. This once!”

The downside was just that it made her like him more, but Lindie only said, “Thanks,” and then took him up on his offer by leading him to the kitchen where Clara was watching for her.

The little girl ran up to her expectantly and the three of them went to where the backpacks were kept. While Sawyer blocked them from view with his back to them, keeping an eye out for witnesses, Lindie passed the candy bars to the child to stash, wondering how this would look on a security camera if there had been one.

But there was just no way she could have lived with herself if she’d refused the child.

When the deed was done and Clara left them to return to the kitchen, Lindie again watched Sawyer shake his head at her. But what he said was “I have another game waiting for me. Try not to get yourself into more trouble, huh?”

He left her standing there, still with no idea if he was trying to avoid her deliberately.

And with nothing else to do but go on with her kitchen duties, Lindie went back to clean up and finish the afternoon.

* * *

At six o’clock the community center was turned over to adult education, art and fitness classes.

Rather than shoving kids out the door at the stroke of six, one person from the daytime schedule remained with them in the lobby to keep an eye on the children waiting to be picked up.

That night Sawyer was the person.

While Lindie still wasn’t sure if he was open to it, his staying back finally gave her the chance to talk to him so she joined him.

“Get into any more mischief?” he asked as she sat with him on a bench.

“I don’t think so. I did talk to Clara about not even telling her sisters what I’d done, about just giving the loot over to her grandmother on the sly and letting her grandmother take it from there.”

“I hope that happens and Clara doesn’t just down five candy bars herself—on the sly.”

“I have faith in her,” Lindie said, knowing that too many times in the past she’d said that same thing only to discover that her faith in someone had been unfounded.

But hopefully that wouldn’t be the case here.

Sawyer nodded with a slow, we’ll-see kind of air to it as he kept those keen blue eyes on her for a lengthy moment.

“Stuff will get to you here, Lindie. You have to be careful. There are a lot of hardships, a lot of need, a lot of sad things going on. But you can’t just step in with a quick fix or a pocketful of candy bars every time. That can end up a disaster.”

“So you just ignore it?”

“No. You ask questions. You try to find out if there might be a bigger problem that could have a better all-around solution or help that doesn’t depend on you hitting the vending machine.”

Lindie shot him a mock frown. “I thought I was to blame for everything and was supposed to make things right.”

“Not like today,” he said.

“Instead I should have turned it over to the Candy Bar Outreach program?”

“Instead you ask if there were other things Gramma couldn’t afford at the grocery store—like milk or eggs or cereal or meat. You try to find out if there’s enough to eat in general—healthy stuff. You might have found out that it wasn’t only candy bars that Gramma couldn’t swing. And if that’s the case—or even if you just find out that things are a little too tight—you hand over the information to Marie who will talk to our social worker. Then the social worker will look into it to see if maybe food stamps would help ease some of the burden. What you heard today could have been a clue to a much bigger problem than Gramma not getting her sugar fix.”

“Oh,” Lindie said, knowing that once again she should have proceeded with some caution.

“It’s better if you don’t just rush in,” he said as if he’d heard her thoughts. “The social worker here is great. She’s amazingly diplomatic and she knows how to approach these things so nobody ends up feeling like their toes have been stepped on, or like their kids have aired dirty laundry. They can get the help they need and keep their pride intact.”

Lindie flinched. “You think I offended Gramma?”

“Again, I know these girls and I’ve met Gramma and she’s a really nice, down-to-earth, levelheaded lady, so I know this isn’t going to cause problems at home and she’ll probably just eat the candy. And I already talked to Marie, told her it might be good to have the social worker do an interview to see if Gramma needs some help with the expenses of four kids added to her budget. But from here on—”

“I’ll watch myself,” Lindie swore, thinking that this was the second time today she’d had to make that vow when it came to this place.

Sawyer accepted it easier than her grandmother had, though, because he seemed to relax his posture, stretching both arms along the top of the bench and looking at her as if he was getting his first glance of the day.

Then, in a more conversational vein, he said, “So, what is it you do for the family business if you aren’t their assassin—which, by the way, I’m still not quite convinced of since you’re hanging around. You aren’t just hoping for the chance to make toast of me tonight, after all, are you?”

“Is that why I wasn’t assigned the rec room? You fear for your life?” she countered.

His expression showed some confusion. “I don’t have anything to do with where volunteers are sent for the day.”

So, possibly, it hadn’t been a conspiracy?

He wasn’t trying to get away from her now—or even trying to persuade her to leave. Instead he was chatting with her. Lindie decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and drop her suspicions.

“I have a degree in communications.” She answered his question simply. “So I oversee our public relations. And sometimes, if it’s absolutely necessary for someone in the family to speak out, I’m our spokesperson.”

“How come I haven’t seen you before this, then? Because believe me, I would have remembered.”

The appreciation in the way he was looking at her convinced her that was true. But she tried not to take it to heart. “I’ve been our spokesperson several times in my eight years on the job but it’s always been to announce positive things, so they probably didn’t interest you enough to pay attention.”

He was paying attention to her now, though. Close attention. “I know Camden Inc. is family owned and operated,” he said. “So how does that work? What’s the hierarchy? Who’s the boss?”

“The titles are really just formalities. Camden Inc. was left to H.J.’s ten great-grandchildren. The way he set it up, we run it—we’re the board of directors—and we each have one vote in everything so no one carries more clout than anyone else.”

“And that works?” Sawyer asked skeptically.

“It does for us. To be honest, it’s the way we were brought up. Our grandmother—we call her GiGi—raised us after the plane crash that killed our grandfather and all of our parents. Ten kids is a lot to handle. But for it not to be constant war, we were taught a lot about cooperating with each other, about solving the problems and disagreements we had. I guess we learned really well how to get along and that crossed over into business.”

“And was Howard or Mitchum your father?”

That could have been a loaded question given the history between his father and Howard, so Lindie was glad to say “Mitchum was my dad. There are six of us. I’m a triplet and we’re the youngest. Along with our cousin Jani, who’s our same age.”

“You’re a triplet?”

“With my sister Livi and our brother Lang.”

“So Howard had—”

“Four kids. My cousins,” she said a bit defensively in case he was going to say anything against them or their father. Then to redirect the conversation, she took a different tack. “Even though there are so many of us, though, we’re easy to work with. Don’t worry that it would be complicated to take us on as a client.”

“Not going to happen,” he reminded her, though he seemed amused.

“I’m just saying that you’re welcome to talk to any vendor, any outsourcing, anyone we deal with, because you won’t hear complaints that they don’t know who they’re answering to or are ever pulled in different directions by us. We’re one solid unit, decisions are majority rule, and we all know how to cope with being on the losing side of a vote.”