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She wrenched free. “Looking at my car.”
“Your car?” He had to hustle to keep up with her.
“Yes, my car.” Dawn’s mouth dropped open as she got her first look at the mangled vehicle. It was worse than she’d imagined. Not only was her grille smashed in, there was greenish fluid in a widening puddle beneath the front end. With a punctured radiator, that car wasn’t going anywhere. Not even in an emergency.
“You killed it!” Without taking time to censor her words she spun to confront Tim. “You killed my car!”
“Don’t get hysterical,” he said calmly. “I told you I’d fix it and I will. Just have it seen to and send me the bill.”
“It’s not that simple. You have other cars. I don’t. I need this one.”
“Okay, rent one somewhere. That’s no problem. I’ll pay for it, too.”
“Rent another car? I hadn’t thought of that.”
“You would have, once you settled down. You’re just upset right now.”
“You can say that again!”
“Look, I told you I was sorry and I meant it. Why don’t you call the garage that takes care of our delivery vans and have them tow it to their place for you? Even if they can’t fix it they’ll undoubtedly know someone who can.”
Though she was still trembling, Dawn had to admit he was making sense. “Okay. I’ll do it right away. Maybe it isn’t as bad as it looks.”
“That’s right. And even if it is, they can probably give you something you can drive till it’s fixed. If not, go ahead and rent yourself some nice wheels, like I said. On me.”
“Thanks.” She managed a wan smile. “I guess that will solve my problems.”
“Of course it will.” His jacket hung over his shoulder on his thumb. He swung it around and put it back on, straightening his tie. “Well, then, if you’re satisfied, I’ll be on my way.”
“How about your Beamer?” Dawn asked belatedly. “Was it badly damaged?”
Tim shook his head and glanced at the slot he’d pulled into after the accident. “Just a scratch and a little dent in the bumper. Nothing serious.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a cynical smile. “The only real casualty was your car.” His smile spread to include both sides. “Hey. While you’re at it, why don’t you have the whole thing repainted? Looks like it’s pretty rusty in places.”
Her left eyebrow arched as she shaded her eyes with one hand and stared up at him, her other hand fisted on her hip. “And charge it to you?”
“Well…sure. Why not? Have to keep the help happy, don’t I?”
Dawn immediately rued her rash suggestion. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I’m not about to quit over a little dented metal.”
Tim’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling in the bright autumn sun. Dawn didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile that broadly, especially not since his father’s illness. There was an appealing charm to his expression that gave her heart a little jolt.
You’re just overreacting because you’re pumped full of adrenaline, she told herself. And Mr. Hamilton is just being this friendly because he’s at fault. There’s nothing more to his smile than that, so simmer down, girl.
Dawn backed away, giving him plenty of extra room in which to return to his car. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go back up to the office and call the garage.”
Resuming his usual businesslike demeanor, Tim nodded and approached the Beamer. “Good,” he said over his shoulder. “And don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
Arms folded, she watched him back out and drive away. When you had as much money as Tim Hamilton and his family did, you could fix just about anything, couldn’t you? Anything temporal, that is.
Musing, she pressed her lips into a thin line and jiggled her key ring in one hand as she started for her office. Even the Hamilton wealth might not be enough to save Wallace’s life, though she hoped it would. Medical science could be wonderful but it sure was expensive. She was still helping her parents pay the enormous medical bills left after her brother’s motorcycle accident. Sadly, in Phillipe’s case, the treatment had not been enough to give him back the power to walk again. Some things couldn’t be bought, no matter how rich a person was.
Dawn sighed, deep in thought, entered the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. If she hadn’t had her faith to sustain her she didn’t know how she’d have coped after her only sibling was so badly injured. The lives of everyone in her family had been changed that day. Putting her college education on hold and getting a job at Hamilton Media to help out with the enormous bills was the least she could do. She wasn’t sorry about that. The only thing that still bothered her was why her prayers for Phil’s total healing hadn’t been answered.
If she lived a hundred more years she knew she’d never understand that.
Chapter Two
By the time Timothy Hamilton had found his missing editor, chewed him out for leaving the office and returned around eleven, he expected Dawn to have settled the problems of her transportation.
“So, I see your car is gone. Did that all work out like I said?”
“No.”
He could tell by her grim expression that plenty was still bothering her so he paused at her desk instead of proceeding to his office. “No?”
“No. They towed the car all right. They just don’t have anything they can loan me.”
“So, rent a car.”
“I tried.”
Tim was getting perturbed. “And?”
“There are a couple of big conventions in the Nashville area right now and every car for miles around has either been rented or is reserved. Nobody could help me on such short notice.”
“That’s ridiculous. Somebody has a car available.”
“That’s what I thought till I tried to find one.”
“You called everybody in the book?”
“Everybody. Even the guys that rent clunkers.”
“I didn’t expect you to stoop that low.” The minute the words were out of his mouth he regretted them.
“Oh? Why not? It might be a step up from what I usually drive.”
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Tim said.
She pulled a face. “I know. I’ve just had a bad morning. Guess I’m a little cranky.”
“How long will the repairs take? Did the garage say?”
“No. They’ll get back to me with that, hopefully today, but it won’t be in time.”
“In time for what?” His brow furrowed. “If you need a ride home I’m sure we can arrange something.”
“It’s more than that,” Dawn said. “I volunteer for meals-on-wheels and it’s my turn to deliver.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes. Two nights this week.”
“Uh-oh.”
“My sentiments, exactly.”
Tim made a snap decision. “Okay. I’ll lend you one of my cars till you get yours back. I’d rather it be the BMW than the Ferrari, if you don’t mind.”
He was pleased to see a little smile starting. The woman was actually pretty, in a well-scrubbed sort of way. Funny he hadn’t noticed that before. He’d always seen her as an efficient adjunct to his office but hadn’t really paid much attention to her as an individual until today. That was usually the way he liked to keep his business relationships, but in this instance he could see there was need for a little more personal connection.
“You’d do that? Lend me a car, I mean?”
“Under the circumstances, yes,” he said.
Dawn shook her head. “I appreciate your offer but I can’t accept.”
“Why not?”
“Well, besides the fact that I’d be scared to death I might scratch your expensive car, I can’t very well show up driving anything like that.”
“Why not?”
Dawn huffed. “Because I’d be embarrassed, for starters. And I’d be worried sick to use it for deliveries. Suppose I spilled gravy or something in it?”
“Embarrassed? Why would you be embarrassed to drive a perfectly good BMW?”
“Because a car like that probably costs more than most of my clients earn in a whole year. Maybe more. I try to make them feel comfortable accepting help, not show them how the other half lives.”
“And I’m the other half?”
“Something like that.”
“I see.”
He mulled over her statement and realized she had a valid point. “Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“I’ll drive you.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“I know. But I am the one who smashed your car so I figure I owe you.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Consider me a fellow volunteer, just helping out in a pinch.” Tim couldn’t believe she was still hesitating.
“Tell you what,” Dawn finally said. “I’ll make a few calls, see if maybe Pastor Abernathy or Amy are free to deliver tonight.”
“Amy? You mean my sister? Why her?”
“Because she’s been doing some of the evening meal distribution, too. I thought you knew?”
“I suppose she may have mentioned it.” Tim set his jaw. “Look. I happen to know she has a late meeting scheduled. Forget about arranging for a substitute. I’ll drive you. Period. In the meantime, do you want me to throw a little mud on the BMW so it won’t look too nice?”
Dawn could tell she was out of options so she capitulated. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll explain when I hand over the meals.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask what you plan to say.”
“You can hear it for yourself,” she told him with a smile. “I’ll want you to come inside with me and meet some of my favorites. They’re delightful people. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
“No more surprised than I am right now,” Tim said. “Why have you never talked about doing volunteer work?”
“I guess it never came up,” she answered. “You and I don’t have many in-depth conversations.”
“Well, maybe we should have,” he said. “I’m impressed.”
“I didn’t tell you about it to make points.”
“Still, you did,” he said with a smile. “I should be in the office all afternoon, after my lunch with my mother, so let me know when you’re ready to go.”
The rest of Dawn’s day flew past in a blur and 5:00 p.m. arrived before she knew it. Normally, she looked forward to taking the meals to her regulars. This evening, however, she was decidedly uneasy. Not only was she faced with having Tim Hamilton acting as her chauffeur, she’d realized belatedly that he was going to have to drive her home, too. Hamilton Media was located in Davis Landing, in the high-rent district along the Cumberland River, while she lived in Hickory Mills, a place often referred to as the “wrong side of the tracks.” She didn’t relish having her hypercritical boss see her modest apartment, even from the outside.
She considered phoning for a taxi, then changed her mind for fear of offending him. The door to Tim’s office stood ajar and she could hear him talking on the phone, so she waited till he’d ended his conversation before rapping on the door and easing it open a bit farther.
“Mr. Hamilton?”
“Yes?”
He had removed his jacket, loosened his pale blue silk tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves, yet his wavy dark hair was perfectly combed and he still looked like a glossy ad for Armani suits or expensive Italian loafers.
Dawn hesitated, then plunged ahead. “All that correspondence you wanted is stacked on my desk, waiting for your signature.”
“Good. Thanks.”
“I—uh—I thought I’d go home now.”
“Is it that late already?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Then we’d better get going.” He stood. “Where do you live?”
“Hickory Mills. On Third Street.”
“Then let’s go. Can’t keep hungry folks waiting for their dinner.”
