“Trust him to do the right thing,” her mother said. “If you can’t do that, then trust yourself to survive whatever happens.”
WALKER SCROLLED through the August numbers. Business was up, which was what he liked to see. Apparently the employees liked having more responsibility and they were proving it in a tangible way. If this kept up another month, Buchanan Enterprises was due for its best year yet.
A fact that would fry his grandmother, he thought cheerfully. Maybe knowing he was doing a damn good job would encourage her to get better more quickly.
His phone buzzed. “A Mr. Dalton on line one for you,” Vicki said. “He won’t tell me what it’s about.”
Walker frowned as he picked up the receiver. “Buchanan,” he said.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Buchanan,” the man on the other end said. “I’m Jonathan Dalton. My firm specializes in placing highly qualified candidates in growth opportunities. If you have a few minutes, I’d like to tell you about just such an opportunity because you’re exactly the kind of candidate we’re looking for.”
It took him a second to realize the guy was a headhunter. “What’s the business?” he asked and braced himself for a detailed explanation of gunrunning, security or straight-out black ops.
“A small chain of restaurants in Idaho. They’re not The Waterfront or Buchanan’s,” Dalton said heartily. “But that’s our client’s goal. To grow the business. To reach a higher level of quality and service, not to mention appeal. The salary is generous and there is ownership potential. Let me tell you a little bit about the company.”
Dalton continued to talk, but Walker wasn’t listening. Restaurants? The guy was calling him about restaurants? Not war or danger or death?
“Are you familiar with my background?” Walker asked. “You know I was in the Marines for nearly fifteen years.”
“Of course. Our client believes that kind of experience builds leadership. Now you have hands-on in the restaurant business, which makes you the perfect candidate.”
Walker doubted that a few weeks of running the family company qualified as “hands-on experience” but it was good to hear someone else did. Until that moment, he’d never seriously considered he might have a career outside of something military.
“I appreciate you thinking of me,” he said, “but I’m not interested. I’m going to be tied up here for several more months.” Then he didn’t know what he was going to do, but there seemed to be dozens of possibilities.
Mr. Dalton sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that. All right. I understand. But I’d like to send you some information on our firm. You’re exactly the kind of person we like to offer our clients. Perhaps you could send me a résumé when you have time.”
“Sure thing,” Walker said, thinking now he’d have to write one.
He finished with the call, then walked to the window and stared out at Gloria’s view.
A few weeks ago, he’d felt as if he didn’t have any choices. Running the company had been a job he’d taken on by default, yet he’d quickly found himself enjoying his work. Was he a tycoon in the making?
The thought made him smile. Maybe not a tycoon, but there were other things he could do. Other jobs, other careers. He still had his ghosts, but they came less frequently. The dreams were still there and would be until he found that one person who cared.
After fifteen years in the Corps, he should know how to move on. He had known, until Ben. Until that kid had gotten under his skin. He, Walker, had vowed to keep Ben alive and he’d failed.
He wouldn’t fail again.
“I WAS ON THE ROAD A LOT,” Reid said, annoyed with himself for even bothering to explain to someone who wasn’t interested.
Lori Johnston stood in the center of Gloria’s large library and stared at him blankly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Of course she didn’t, he thought irritably. She’d passed judgment on him and then had dismissed him. Just as he should have dismissed her. But he hadn’t. No matter where he went or what he did or who he was with, he kept remembering her comment about him ignoring his grandmother and that being the reason she was so difficult.
“She doesn’t like people,” he said.
“Who?” Lori asked in the kind of tone usually reserved for dealing with the mentally disabled.
“My grandmother. She’s not a people person.”
“I haven’t met her yet,” Lori said, obviously not the least bit interested in the conversation. “I’m sure she’s perfectly lovely.”
“She’s not. She difficult and demanding. She has her grandchildren followed. Walker’s seen the reports. She actually hires private investigators to find out about our lives.”
Lori’s steady, cool gaze drilled into him. “Perhaps if her grandchildren were more interested in her well-being than in their own, she wouldn’t be forced to resort to such drastic measures.”
“Forced? No one’s forcing her. She’s doing this all on her own and do you know why?”
“Because she’s lonely and you’re the only family she has in the world and you’re too busy for her?”
He wanted to hit something or strangle something. His gaze zeroed in on her neck. “You haven’t even met the woman. Why are you taking her side?”
“In my experience, the elderly are often abandoned or at the very least, shuffled aside. You yourself said you were on the road all the time. What does that say about your relationship with your grandmother?”
His fingers twitched. “I played baseball. Of course I was gone. That’s what the job involves. Traveling from city to city.”
“For a season,” Lori said. “How long is that? Five or six months? What about the rest of the year?” She walked to the tall windows and pulled open the drapes. Sunlight spilled onto the hardwood floor. “You’re trying to convince me of something, Mr. Buchanan, but I can’t figure out what. My advice is that you stop trying. Seriously. You and I don’t need much more than a very casual relationship for me to
