A Hamilton Family Christmas - Donna Kauffman Page 0,107
could trust her. But she’d had a day to get to know him. And a lifetime to know her hometown. He knew who was going to win that showdown, every time.
“I need to talk to him—Lionel,” Griffin said, “so if you could just give me that time before rounding up—”
“I’m not going to say anything.”
He leaned back slightly, eyebrows raised. “I appreciate that. I don’t know how long I’ll need, but I’ll tell you as soon—”
“No, I mean, I’m not going to say anything, ever.”
He frowned. “Didn’t you just get done telling me— quite convincingly, I might add, that you’d fight me on this no matter what?”
“I did. And I’m glad you told me, glad you understood why it was so important to me. But you have a point, too, about not panicking anyone. That won’t do you or them any good. Not if the company is in as bad shape as you say. If people panic and leave, look for work elsewhere, or start the great migration that has crushed so many of the small towns out this way, Hamilton won’t be able to rebound. As it stands, you have the support of the majority, at least if the gathering today was any indication. I meant what I said about trusting us, too, and I still believe everyone should know what’s going on. You will need to tell them at some point, when the timing is best for both sides, but that will be your decision. Or Lionel’s. Not mine.”
He continued to study her. “You were all ready to take up the crusade earlier today, and now you’re surrendering the field completely?”
“I didn’t say I liked it,” she said quietly and he saw the pain behind her seemingly casual declaration. “But I have no actual cause to fight for. You’ve made that abundantly clear. I’m not big on wasting my time. So . . . I’ll have to . . . accept that I can’t change this. I don’t know what your plan will end up meaning to me. What it will change for me. Knowing it’s a fait accompli helps somewhat. I’m glad you told me. It gives me some time.”
“Time?”
“To figure things out. Make choices.”
“What choices?” he asked. “You realize, don’t you, that the resort will almost certainly boost your particular niche business? With our plans for global partnerships, the world will be your oyster. You’re only limited by how big you dream.”
“Bigger isn’t better for everyone, Griffin,” she said gently. “I tried bigger. That’s why I came back here. Well, I came back for Bernie, but it’s why I stayed. I was unhappy in Washington, unhappy in my career, unhappy with bigger, brighter, better.”
“You were a lawyer there? In Washington.”
She lifted a questioning brow.
“You stuttered earlier, over saying your grandmother passed away as you were heading to law school. What kind of law?”
“Taxes.”
He groaned. “It’s a wonder you didn’t put a gun to your temple. My God.”
“I was quite good at it,” she said, without a shred of defensiveness—or any real emotion.
“But you hated it.”
“With gun-to-the-temple passion,” she said, then her lips finally smiled a little. A bit of life came back into those dark blue eyes, but not enough to hide the sadness that was still evident.
He felt badly for putting the sorrow there, but would have felt worse if he’d kept the truth from her any longer.
“The problem was,” she went on, “I knew tax law wasn’t for me, and I knew that I hated living in the city. I just ... didn’t know what else I wanted to be when I grew up. I thought I needed the stimulation of a bigger town, with more people, to push me intellectually. I didn’t think I could find that kind of satisfaction in my hometown. I love everyone here dearly, but I thought my world needed to be bigger to truly fulfill what I saw as my potential.”
“Sometimes, you do have to leave. You weren’t wrong to try.”
“No. No, I wasn’t. You’re right. I don’t regret the choices I made. Or the education I worked so hard for. But while I was realizing those choices were sucking the soul out of me, Bernie was launching this business. I started to bake. And baking . . .” She let the sentence drift off on a sigh. A sigh so full it captivated him.
“Your eyes go all . . .” He lifted a shoulder when the words weren’t there. It was an arresting sight, to be sure.