Page 51 of Under His Touch
“If you’re worried about me, don’t. Some things are more important than fame and the bottom line.”
I take a big breath and let it out slowly, wishing I’d gone to yoga this morning.
The bell over the front door jingles, and I plop back down into my chair as Amanda excuses herself and darts to the front. I put my head on my desk, but perk up when a familiar voice reaches my ears. Amanda pokes her head in, her eyes wide.
“Someone here to see you,” she says.
I stand when James comes in, his cane banging on the floor.
“James, what are you doing here?”
“Now what kind of greeting is that, child?”
“Sorry. It’s nice to see you. Please have a seat. Can I get you a coffee, tea?”
“Any brandy?” he asks and I grin.
“No sorry.”
He waves a dismissive hand. “No matter.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Just checking in to see how plans are going? Haven’t seen Sara in some time now.” His eyes narrow and I almost squirm under his scrutiny. It’s like the man can see through me, see how I feel about his grandson.
I nibble my lip, and hate to lie to the man but say, “She got tied up at a conference in Atlanta.”
“Tied up, huh?” he says, like he’s privy to something I’m not.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, calling on all my bravado.
“Yes, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to answer,” he says, and I laugh.
“You sound like Alec.”
“That boy means the world to me.”
“I know he does and he’d do anything for you, James.”
“He’s one of the good ones.”
That gives me pause. If he thinks he’s one of the good ones, why did he tell Alec his image was hurting the family? Why is he pushing him to marry to clean up his act?
“How so?” I ask.
“Did he ever tell you about his grandmother?”
“When we were younger, he mentioned her. She was gone when I came into the picture.”
“I’m not sure what it was, but out of all the grandchildren, they had a special bond. Oh, don’t get me wrong, she treated all the grandkids the same, but she said there was a different light inside Alec.” He pauses and smiles as if recalling and relishing an old memory. “They spent a lot of time in the garden. Did he ever tell you he has a green thumb?”
“No,” I say, and smile at that. I couldn’t keep a plant alive to save my soul. But then I remember the one plant at his place. I thought it seemed out of place, surrounded by his cool gray decor.
“Oh, yes, he spent a lot of time with his grandmother in the garden. He took it the hardest when she died.”
“How...” I shut my mouth, not wanting to dredge up sad memories, but James’s eyes flicker.
“Ovarian cancer,” he says, frowning. “Damn cancer. That’s why he set up a trust fund.”