The Family Man. Irene Hannon
Heather turned, her stiff posture told Amy that she had some fences to mend with her sister, as well as some explaining to do about her unprofessional—and uncharacteristic—behavior. And she’d take care of it. Just as soon as she figured out a way to explain it to herself.
The reception area at Hamilton Media, which housed the offices for both Nashville Living and the Davis Landing Dispatch—one of the town’s two newspapers—was bright and cheerful, conveying an upbeat mood. Colorful paintings adorned the walls, and large windows allowed the late-summer sunlight to spill into the space, which retained much of the historic charm expected from a building approaching the century mark. Under other circumstances, Bryan would have found the setting pleasant and relaxing. But his nerves were too much on edge to be soothed by anything today.
Ever since he’d agreed to this interview, he’d been besieged by doubts. He had no desire to see Amy Hamilton again. Despite the fact that any feelings he’d had for her had died long ago, thoughts of her still left a bitter taste in his mouth. But he needed a job, and so far nothing else had come up. A part-time freelance slot wasn’t ideal, by any means. That meant no insurance, for one thing. And he had to have insurance. Hard experience had taught him the value of that benefit. COBRA from his previous employer was providing interim coverage, but it was expensive. He needed to hook up with a full-time position that would offer health care coverage at a more reasonable cost—and sooner rather than later. But in the meantime, at least this job would provide some much needed cash. Living with his father would help ease his money problems in the short term, but he didn’t want to wear out their welcome. Even though his dad seemed to be enjoying the company. And even though Dylan wouldn’t mind staying at his grandpa’s house forever.
Thoughts of his son brought a smile to his face. It was hard to believe he’d be starting kindergarten in two weeks. Harder still to believe that Darlene had been gone for five and a half years.
Like the sun disappearing behind a storm cloud, Bryan’s smile faded. All his hopes of creating a warm and loving family had died with his wife. So had his faith. Once strong, it had crumbled in the face of her tragic death, as he’d watched his son struggle for life, as he’d tried to take on the job of both mother and father. Dylan had been the only bright spot in his life these past few years. Protecting him, providing for him, had become his top priority. And only a priority that vital could have compelled him to go on this interview…and face a past he thought he’d left far behind.
“Mr. Healey? You can go up now.”
The querulous voice of Herman Gordon caught Bryan’s attention. The stooped, gray-haired gent and his wife, Louise, had been with Hamilton Media since before Bryan had been born. Long retired from their regular positions, they now served as gatekeepers, presiding over the marble-floored lobby with dignity and unquestionable authority. Despite their advanced years and grandparentlike demeanors, nobody, but nobody, got past the Gordons without an appointment. They were an institution in Davis Landing.
“Right this way, young man.” Herman led Bryan toward the elevator with a sprightly step that belied his age, then waited while Bryan stepped inside the dark-paneled cube that gleamed with polished brass. “Heather Hamilton will meet you on the second floor.”
As Bryan nodded his thanks, the door slid closed. The elevator began to rise…and so did his pulse. In mere minutes he would be face-to-face with Amy—the woman he’d once loved. His grip tightened on the handle of his portfolio, and he tried to take a few deep, calming breaths. But the effort had little effect. The best he could hope for would be to feign a semblance of outward calm despite the sudden churning in his stomach. And it didn’t help that he was on unfamiliar turf—her turf.
Although Bryan and Amy had dated for more than a year, he’d never been past the lobby of the impressive three-story brick building on Main Street that housed the offices of Hamilton Media. Her father, Wallace, hadn’t approved of him, so he’d steered a wide berth around the old man, whose domineering presence had been more than a little intimidating to a nervous teen from the other side of the tracks—or, in this case, from the other side of the river. The physical separation between affluent Davis Landing and blue-collar Hickory Mills might be only as wide as the scenic Cumberland River, but the two sections of town were light-years apart in every other way. Bryan had been keenly aware of that division the few times he’d been in Wallace’s presence. The patriarch of the Hamilton Media dynasty had struck Bryan as invincible, a man who knew what he wanted and didn’t let much stand in his way of getting it.
But he hadn’t been invincible after all, as recent events had demonstrated. According to Bryan’s father, Wallace had been seriously ill with leukemia for some time, and was now coping with the aftereffects of a bone marrow transplant. In addition, the Hamilton family had been rocked with scandal. If the front-page headlines in the Davis Landing Observer—the town’s other daily paper—were to be believed, Jeremy Hamilton, vice president of Hamilton Media, wasn’t Wallace’s son. Since that story had broken, Jeremy had resigned, and the reins of the company had been passed to Tim Hamilton, the next oldest son. Betty at the Bakeshoppe, where Bryan had stopped for a quick cup of coffee before his interview, had told him that news—and also that the youngest Hamilton daughter, Melissa, had run off with her boyfriend. It seemed wealth didn’t insulate people from problems. Even the mighty Hamiltons were vulnerable to scandal and sorrow.
The elevator came to a stop, and the knot in Bryan’s stomach cinched tighter as the door slid open to reveal a slim, attractive woman with huge brown eyes and long russet hair, dressed in a flowing floral skirt and soft knit top. She looked vaguely familiar, but only when she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a familiar, nervous gesture did he recognize the beauty before him as Heather Hamilton.
“Heather?”
An anxious smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Guilty.”
Exiting the elevator, he extended his hand. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You’ve grown up.”
Shifting her notebook from one arm to the other, she returned his handshake. “I was nineteen when you left,” she reminded him. “I was already grown up.”
“Okay. Let me rephrase that. You look great.”
“Meaning I didn’t before?”
Her teasing response and the twinkle in her eye couldn’t quite mask the insecure undertone in her voice. Bryan recalled that her self-esteem had never been too high. Thanks in part, he supposed, to living in Amy’s shadow. Her sister had been the golden girl. With her long blond hair, sky-blue eyes, porcelain skin and fabulous figure, it was no wonder that Amy had headed the cheerleading squad and been elected homecoming queen. The fact that she’d excelled at school as well and was the editor of the yearbook made her an even more formidable role model for her younger sisters. But he was glad to see that Heather seemed to have come into her own.
“You always looked great,” Bryan countered.
Grinning, Heather shook her head. “Nice try. But I could never compete on the looks front with…” She pulled herself up short. “Well, let’s just say that my natural assets benefited from a recent makeover courtesy of Nashville Living when our makeover-of-the-month subject left us high and dry at the last minute.”
As they talked, she led him through a sea of cubicles toward an enclosed conference room. Heather took a seat at the head of the long table, and gestured to a chair at a right angle to hers. “Make yourself comfortable. Amy will join us in a moment. Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I already indulged at Betty’s Bakeshoppe.” He set his portfolio on the table and pulled out his chair, resisting a strong temptation to reach up and loosen his tie, which seemed to be growing tighter by the second. Suits had never been his attire of choice, and he wore them only on rare occasions.
“We were very impressed with your credentials, Bryan. It sounds like you’ve been busy since you left Davis Landing. How did you end up in Missouri?”
A shadow crossed his face as he took his seat. “My wife grew up there. Since her mother was a widow, and not in the best of health, we decided