“She’s in the greenhouse.”
“So I heard. That’s where I’m headed.”
“Staying for lunch?”
“Can’t. Have to get back to the office. I only have a few minutes.” He went through the kitchen to the greenhouse, where his grandmother was watering her prize orchids.
“Georgie...don’t let me scare you...” he said in a mellow tone once he got there, because his grandmother’s back was to him and he didn’t want to startle the seventy-five-year-old.
Georgianna Camden was the matriarch of the Camden family, the woman who had raised all ten of her grandchildren after the plane crash that killed their parents and her husband. The rest of the family called her GiGi. Derek had always affectionately called her Georgie.
“As if I didn’t hear you shouting from the doorway,” his grandmother said, turning off the water.
He crossed the greenhouse to kiss her cheek, too, putting an arm around the shoulders that—like the rest of her—felt as cushy as a beanbag chair.
He gave her a little squeeze before letting her go. “I’m on my way back to the office, but I thought I’d stop for a few minutes to tell you that I went to that church your friend belongs to last night—”
“Jean didn’t see you. I talked to her this morning.”
“Checking up on me?” he asked with a laugh. “I went but I didn’t get in. Some hot little number named Gia Grant caught me at the foot of the steps to the basement and wouldn’t let me go any farther.”
“I know that name—Jean can’t say enough good things about her. She doesn’t belong to their church, she’s the Bronsons’ neighbor and—”
“She’s the one behind this deal to help the Bronsons—I know, the guy who cuts my hair told me. But last night she was also the guardian of the gate. Your friend Jean was right about the meeting to organize the work for the Bronsons, but what she didn’t say was that the Bronsons themselves would be at the church. Gia Grant spotted me coming, recognized me somehow and wouldn’t let me out of the stairwell. She said a Camden would ruin the Bronsons’ night.”
“Oh, dear...”
“Yeah. We might not have known about what went on between H.J. and those people until you read about it in the journals, but it isn’t something they’ve forgotten.”
The man who had started the Camden empire—Derek’s great-grandfather H. J. Camden—had kept a journal while he was alive. Only recently rediscovered, it confirmed what H.J., his son, Hank, and his grandsons, Mitchum and Howard, had long been accused of—ruthless, unscrupulous business practices that trampled people and other businesses.
After reading the journals, Georgianna Camden and her grandchildren were determined to make amends for some of the worst of the wrongs done. Including what had been done to the Bronsons.
“Gia Grant says that no matter how much trouble the Bronsons are in,” Derek informed his grandmother, “they have too much pride to take anything from us. Her recommendation was that we just donate money anonymously.... And the anonymity wouldn’t be so bad for us, because then we’d be avoiding any admission of guilt....”
GiGi shook her head at that suggestion. “I know we need to keep from making any kind of open, public acknowledgment of wrongdoing so we don’t have people coming out of the woodwork to sue us for things the Camdens didn’t do—”
“Big corporations and money make for easy targets,” Derek confirmed. “And you know there are stories out there accusing us of stuff that didn’t happen—so, yeah, if we say some of the accusations are well founded, there’ll be an avalanche of see-I-told-you-so lawsuits for unfounded complaints that will tie us up in court until hell freezes over.”
“We also don’t want to come out and say that H.J. and your grandfather, father and uncle really were involved in underhanded business practices—there’s family loyalty at stake here, too,” GiGi said under her breath, because this was something that she didn’t discuss if Jonah, Margaret or Louie were around.
“So a payout would be a whole lot easier, but it wouldn’t protect us,” Derek acknowledged.
“And we wouldn’t necessarily achieve our goal of making amends with a simple payout,” GiGi added. “In this case in particular, just donating some money might not be the best answer for the Bronsons. Jean says they have no family. No one beyond that Gia girl—and she’s only a neighbor—to look after them or help them. They’re in their eighties, so there are some health problems, and Jean isn’t sure they should be living on their own anymore. And what if one of them dies and the other is left all alone—?”
“You want to just move them in here?” Derek joked.
“You know how I feel about this one, Derek. It’s going to need some involvement on our part for what remains of the Bronsons’ lives,” GiGi insisted. “And you know that just donating money doesn’t guarantee that the money will get into the right hands or get used in the ways it should be used, especially down the road. We have to know that these people have whatever they need to finish out their lives—financially and otherwise. And their needs can change depending on how their health or situation changes. We have to have some kind of presence in their lives. So you have to make nice with them. Win them over and establish a relationship with them so we can help later on, too, if need be. For their sake.”
“I touched on some of that with Gia. But I still couldn’t even get in the door....”
“Well, you’re going to have to do whatever it takes to accomplish that, honey. Maybe first you’ll have to win over the guard at the gate....”
That brought a vivid image of Gia Grant to mind—something that had been happening at the drop of a hat since he’d met her last night.
Maybe because of that hair, he thought.
That hair was just great!
Every time the memory of it popped into his head it made him smile.
Full and thick and shiny and wildly curly...
That was probably why it appealed to him. He liked things that were a little on the wild side.
And he’d loved that hair....
Plus, she had big, beautiful brown eyes the color of espresso sprinkled with gold dust.
And peaches-and-cream skin that didn’t show a single flaw.
And a straight nose that turned up almost imperceptibly and just a little impudently at the end.
And a picture-perfect mouth that was exactly the kind he liked to kiss because her lips were slightly full and sumptuous-looking....
All on top of a body that was tight but still soft and curvaceous even if she wasn’t particularly tall....
Oh, yeah, he’d done a lot of thinking about Gia Grant since last night....
For no reason he could put his finger on.
“I did ask her to intervene on my behalf, but she wasn’t too optimistic that she could convince the Bronsons to accept anything from us,” he told his grandmother when he’d pulled himself out of his thoughts of Gia.
“Like I said, win her over first, then,” GiGi advised. “The better she likes you, the more apt she is to sell you to the Bronsons. And from what I understand from Jean, that shouldn’t be too painful for you—Jean says she’s never met a nicer, friendlier, more helpful person, and that she’s beautiful to boot and doesn’t even seem to know it. So she’s humble, too. I know Jean has her eye on her for Lucas once his divorce is final, and she and the other ladies in her church committees are all worried that their pastor is very taken with this Gia Grant—”
“So wouldn’t that make her perfect for their pastor—a paragon of virtue