“No, thanks. I already indulged at Betty’s Bakeshoppe.” He set his portfolio on the table and pulled out his chair, resisting a strong temptation to reach up and loosen his tie, which seemed to be growing tighter by the second. Suits had never been his attire of choice, and he wore them only on rare occasions.
“We were very impressed with your credentials, Bryan. It sounds like you’ve been busy since you left Davis Landing. How did you end up in Missouri?”
A shadow crossed his face as he took his seat. “My wife grew up there. Since her mother was a widow, and not in the best of health, we decided to stay close after we got married.”
A soft look stole over Heather’s face. “I heard about your wife. I’m so sorry, Bryan.”
“Thank you. It’s been hard. But my son, Dylan, doesn’t give me a chance to sit around feeling sorry for myself. Five-year-olds have more energy than the Hoover Dam and more questions than Barbara Walters.”
Chuckling, Heather leaned back in her chair. “I imagine you have plenty of ideas for a column on family issues.”
A wry grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “I could write a book. Being a single dad has been—”
The words died in his throat as his gaze flickered over Heather’s shoulder. She didn’t even need to turn to know that Amy had arrived. The tense muscles in her shoulders eased and she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d half expected her sister to cancel at the last minute. Despite Amy’s declaration that Bryan didn’t mean anything to her anymore, Heather knew that she’d been shaken by the prospect of his reappearance. She wouldn’t have been surprised to get a message saying that Amy had been called into an emergency meeting with Typhoon Tim—a nickname bestowed on their brother by the staff since he’d taken over the reins at Hamilton Media. True to his Type A personality, he’d made it clear that the company wasn’t going to miss a beat because of the change in command, and he’d been on a whirlwind fact-finding mission to each department, often leaving chaos in his wake. Amy had been called into more meetings in the past four weeks than she’d attended in the past four years, as she’d grumbled to Heather on more than one occasion. So she could have used that as an excuse to cancel out on today’s interview. But to her credit, she’d shown up.
As Amy paused in the doorway, Bryan took his time rising, trying to reconcile the woman ten paces away with the girl he’d once loved. She was just as blonde. Just as stunning. Just as poised and elegant and self-confident as she’d been back in those heady days when they were in love. Or when he’d been in love, he corrected himself. In retrospect, he wasn’t sure her feelings had ever been as strong as his. But he hadn’t been wrong about his assessment of her beauty then. And he wasn’t wrong now.
In high school, Amy had worn her hair long. Now it was shoulder length, curling under slightly on her shoulders and parted a bit to one side. She was just as trim and toned as ever, and her dark teal suit and matching sling-back pumps were fashionable without being trendy. Her slim skirt revealed a discreet length of shapely leg, and the short jacket called attention to her small waist. The self-confidence she’d exhibited in high school had been a mere preview of the powerful presence she now radiated in her executive position. If he thought he detected a slight tremble in her hand, if her smile looked a bit forced, if a flash of pain seemed to dart across her eyes when she looked at him, he chalked it up to the awkwardness of the situation. This wasn’t comfortable for either of them. They had too much history.
While Bryan did his quick assessment, Amy did hers. She’d recognize Bryan anywhere, of course. His distinctive auburn hair and quiet demeanor hadn’t changed. And he still looked as fit and lean as ever. In fact, if anything, he’d grown more attractive with age. Maturity suited him. Made him even more appealing.
An unexpected quiver raced up Amy’s spine, and for a brief second the years melted away as the memory of their first kiss, beside the lake in Sugar Tree Park, flashed vividly across her mind. As if it had been yesterday, she recalled the way his deep green eyes had softened and warmed, inviting her to look into his soul as he searched her face before touching his lips to hers in a tender, almost reverent, kiss. Now, as their gazes met, she wondered if he, too, was remembering the sweet, heady joy of that moment. But it was impossible to tell. His shuttered eyes reflected wariness, and there was a disillusionment in their depths that had never been there before. It seemed that whatever fascination she had once held for him had long since disappeared. She’d expected that, of course. Yet somewhere deep in her heart, it hurt to have that fact confirmed. But that was her problem. And today wasn’t about them, or the past, anyway. It was about business, and tomorrow. A fact she’d do well to remember.
Forcing her lips to maintain their forced smile, she moved into the room and extended her hand. “Hello, Bryan. Welcome.”
“Thank you.” His clasp was firm, sure—and brief.
Taking her seat across from him, Amy turned to Heather. Her sister had gotten her into this, and Amy intended to let her take the lead. “Heather, why don’t you explain the position to Bryan, since it will report to you.”
As Heather spoke, Amy was content to observe. Her sister did a fine job outlining the job, and Bryan asked all the appropriate questions. When Heather finished, Amy suggested that Bryan walk them through his portfolio.
While they reviewed a number of the stories and columns Bryan had written, Amy let Heather ask most of the questions. When they reached the last page, Heather turned to her. “Is there anything else you need to see?”
“No. That should do it.”
“Okay. We’re interviewing three candidates, Bryan. I’m hoping we’ll be able to make a decision by the end of the week. Have you moved back to town yet?”
“Yes. Until I get settled, Dylan and I are living with my dad.” He jotted a number on the tablet in front of him, tore off the sheet and handed it to Heather. “If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to call.”
After tucking the sheet into her notebook, Heather stood. “We will. Thank you for coming in today.”
Rising, he zipped his portfolio closed and reached out to shake hands with her. “I appreciate the opportunity.” For most of the interview, he’d focused on Heather, looking at Amy only when he couldn’t avoid it. He was well aware that she hadn’t said much, nor asked many questions.
Now, after a brief hesitation, he transferred his attention to the woman who had once stolen his heart, then trampled on it. The quick glimpse of regret in her unguarded eyes jolted him, but it was gone so fast he was sure he’d imagined it. Amy Hamilton had never regretted anything. She’d always been decisive in her choices, wasting no time on second guesses or looking back. He’d admired that confidence years ago, assuming it was a result of being an oldest daughter who had been raised in a life of privilege.
Her poised self-confidence was still very much in evidence as she returned his look. Yet it had changed in some subtle way, he realized. Where once it had been brash and certain, it now seemed tempered by humility. As if she’d learned a few hard lessons along the road of life, had discovered that even the confident sometimes make mistakes. That life itself held no certainties. That all the money and power and prestige in the world couldn’t shield a person from heartache. And the Hamiltons had had plenty of heartache in the past few months.
As he reached out to take the hand she extended, he was tempted for one brief instant to feel sorry for Amy Hamilton. Once upon a time, in the days before life had buffeted him with a succession of harsh blows, back when his faith had been strong, he would have given in to that temptation. But the compassion and charity that had once filled his heart had vanished, leaving an empty void in their place. Just Dylan and his dad, along with his brother and his family, could touch his heart. They were the only ones he let get close. It was safer that way. Caring about others, loving them, led to hurt. As the woman standing across from him well knew. If she cared. Or even remembered.
Not