Heiress. Irene Brand
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