Irene Brand - Heiress

“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 the good relationships you’re hoping to foster. You will have to treat all your employees on an impersonal basis.”

“That sounds like a rather lonely life.”

“Make friends outside the company.”

“Even Celestine? I’ve already asked her to call me by my given name.”

His widening smile made his face relaxed and generous. “Celestine is in a different category—she mothers all of us. We can always count on her to smooth over the ill feelings.”

He dropped a tip on the table and stood up. “I have to be on my way, Miss Sayre. I’m expecting a telephone call at ten o’clock, and I must be home by then. May I drop you off at the hotel?”

“No, thank you. I’ll finish my tea before I call a taxi.”

“Very well. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

Allison stared down at the teacup and blinked her eyelids to hold back the tears. She thought Benton’s behavior was downright rude, but she had to admit she had brought it upon herself. She shouldn’t have asked to join him. After working ten hours, he had probably had enough of Page Publishing for one day, but that didn’t keep her from feeling lonely.

After returning to the hotel, Allison took a sheet of stationery from the drawer and wrote a short note to her sister, Cleta:

Don’t say anything about this to the others, but please look in that photo album I showed you, remove the picture of Donald and me with Benton Lockhart and mail it to me. You’ll know which one I mean.

This encounter tonight had almost convinced her that she had not found the Benton Lockhart she had admired, but she wanted to take another look at that photo.

Adra was watching for Allison the next morning, and moving quickly for a man with his age and girth, he hustled down the front steps when she pulled up to the curb in front of the house and opened the right-hand door.

“You can park in the driveway to the left of the house, Allison. That belongs to you, and it will be a lot safer than if we try to unload here on the street. Neil Avenue has a lot of traffic on Saturday mornings.”

He closed the door and she eased the automobile into the narrow driveway that led to a one-car garage separated from the house.

Minerva opened and closed the kitchen door as Adra and Allison emptied her car and carried her things upstairs. When they’d finished, Allison said, “Should I put my car in the garage?”

“Our truck is in there now, but we can move it out,” Adra offered.

“Oh, no, my car is used to sitting out in the weather.” She locked the car doors, and they went into the warm kitchen, where Minerva had some hot chocolate for them.

The sun shone through the windows while they sat at the round table in the alcove, and the friendliness of these two people softened the hard core that had been around her heart since last night’s episode with Benton. They chatted as if she were family—they didn’t seem to think an employer-employee relationship was so important.

The McRameys had no children, and they had sold their farm and moved to Columbus several years ago. “I miss being in the country,” Adra said, “but our property was right at the edge of the city and developments kept edging closer, making the property so valuable that we couldn’t afford to pay our taxes. So we sold out, and when we were looking for a place, we were directed to Mr. Page. He needed some help and we needed a home. It’s been a good life for us.”