He was a good man except for his blind spot about his father and church, she amended.
Abruptly André’s tone changed. “Believe it or not, Rebekkah, I’m not here to argue with my father but to work on a case we have to reopen.”
Rebekkah gaped at André trying to determine if she’d heard the man right. Finally, when she recovered her voice, she asked, “You’re going to work for your father?”
“Isn’t that what I just said?” he murmured, that smirking little smile appearing as his head tilted down toward her slightly and his eyebrows transformed into that certain angle as he gave her a superior look.
Using the time to smooth her peach jacket and straight skirt, Rebekkah regrouped. “I don’t believe it.”
“Why don’t you come with me to Dad’s office and you’ll find out if I’m telling the truth.” He baited her knowing how she had planned to turn him down the hall in another direction, to another office, anywhere but Drydan’s. However, what would he do if she called his bluff?
“You don’t think I will, do you?” She hated the way this cool, calm golden boy always rattled her.
Slipping his hands in his pockets, he said, “I’m hoping you will.”
She studied him, trying to discern the truth behind the neutral gaze he leveled at her. Was he serious? Did he really plan to come to work for his father again? Or was this simply a trick to see his dad? She couldn’t remember a time both hadn’t ended up in an argument.
Why couldn’t André accept that his dad had changed since the day his son had left? Though Rebekkah hadn’t known him well then, she did know that losing Andréashe had caused a wound within him. A wound that couldn’t heal because they couldn’t talk out the problem. She knew André still wasn’t over Sarah. She’d heard through the grapevine how he avoided places she frequented. He told everyone he was over it, but his hate toward his father supported a different story. Which brought her back to André’s motivations. Was he really interested in just talking this time?
There was no telling how long they would have stood in a face-off if they hadn’t been interrupted.
“Well, well, if it’s not the prodigal brother returned, not to rejoice, however, but to slink into the fold like a wolf hunting more prey.”
Rebekkah winced at Michael’s words.
“Well, hello to you, too, brother,” André drawled.
There was certainly no love lost between the two brothers, Rebekkah thought, exasperated with how this meeting had changed into a confrontation of kin. At least this fight wasn’t on André’s side, Rebekkah reminded herself wearily. Michael didn’t care at all for Drydan’s son, who seemed to always get preferential choice over the stepson. André acted as if he had no idea that it bothered Michael at all.
“How are you doing, Michael?” André smiled benignly at the other golden boy in the office, as Rebekkah thought of him. Michael looked much like André in color and build. The only real differences were the square jaw and the dark brown eyes instead of the deep piercing silver gray ones that André had. There was no doubt both were Margaret’s children. The smoother lines of André’s facial structure, aristocratic nose and silver gray eyes came from Drydan.
“Actually, I was doing great until I heard you had come here to harass your father again.”
Rebekkah noted how some of the employees down the hall seemed to be migrating toward them—obviously to see a family feud in progress. Rebekkah decided to put a stop to it right here and now. Part of her job was to keep Drydan happy. Knowing his employees were getting an eyeful in his firm wasn’t going to bring that about. “He’s here to help his father, he says, Michael. Why don’t we go talk with Drydan?” she offered, turning to André and drawing his attention to her.
“I thought you’d never ask,” André replied and gave her a sweet smile.
Michael showed his disgust with the curling of his lip.
“Michael,” she said, “I need that report on the Keller Water Treatment Facility and how that case turned out—in detail. I’m going to trial in a few weeks and have decided to use the Muller versus the City of Keller case as precedent. Can you do a workup for me?”
Michael hesitated then nodded curtly. “Sure thing, Rebekkah.” Leveling one last disgusted look at his stepbrother, Michael turned and left.
“Looks like he’s as happy as ever,” André murmured as he started down the long carpeted hall toward his father’s office.
“He’s just gotten used to working full-time here, André. He’s settled in,” Rebekkah said quietly. They passed the tall mirrors and portraits of others who had once worked in the office, as well as doors that led to secretaries and legal assistants. Though they were a small firm by many standards, they were the largest firm outside the Fort Worth firms. Cherry-wood tables with floral arrangements dotted the hall as they approached Drydan’s office. “I imagine Michael worries that you’ll come waltzing back into the firm, and he’ll no longer be the number one son.”
André sighed. “I don’t think of Michael like that. True, I didn’t know him most of my life until his father died and he moved in with us, but I’ve always accepted him.”
Rebekkah strolled along beside André, her worry over André’s desire to confront his father shifting to André’s situation with his brother. “I know you have. I think it’s something Michael will have to work through. Be patient.” With a nod they passed the private secretary’s desk.
“Trying to comfort me?” André asked mildly, pausing outside Drydan’s office door.
Rebekkah bristled. Turning to meet his gaze, she replied, “No way. You have too many women around here that would love to do that. I’m simply pointing out the Christian thing to do.”
André chuckled. “The Christian thing. Something you aren’t going to let me forget, are you, Rebekkah, love?”
She reached for the handle of one of the double doors then smiled sweetly—too sweetly. “Not a chance. It gives me great pleasure to remind you daily about forgiveness.” Turning, she pushed the door open, a smile on her dark face. “Drydan, your son is here to see you.”
Chapter Three
“André what brings you here?” Drydan studied his son carefully, the wariness showing plainly on his face.
André noted Rebekkah come into the office with him, closing the door after she was in. He knew his father didn’t need moral support, but he had to hand it to Rebekkah. She was loyal.
“Hello, Father. We need to talk.”
“If you’ve come to argue, son—” Drydan began.
“Not at all,” André said, and crossed the carpeted floor to drop into a plush maroon brocaded chair in front of his father’s desk. André had grown up in these offices. From the time his father had been an associate until he’d bought out the major shares and run the entire law firm, André had played in these halls. His only desire had been to one day be at his father’s side, cleaning up the world for good people to live. As he’d grown up here, he’d learned all about the business. They had lawyers that specialized in all kinds of things. André had decided early on he wanted to work with civil law. And he had seen that dream come true. He had enjoyed it…most of the time. Except when his father started to insist things be done a certain way, that they could only take high-profile cases and on and on. In actuality, leaving had given him freedom he