After the Dawn (2 page)

Her hand holding his clenched, then relaxed. She glanced away, then back. Tears shimmered in her eyes. “He loved the company.”

Abe tried to sit up and only managed to cause his breath to shorten, his heart to pound wildly in his chest. Samantha curved her arm around his shoulders and eased him back against the bed. “Breathe. Just breathe and relax.”

When Abe felt as if he had enough strength and breath, he said, “He loved his f-family. Don't ever forget that.”

Samantha nodded. “I won't. Now breathe and relax. We all need you to get well.”

“I loved him best.” Tears formed in the corners of Abe's eyes that he was unashamed of. “Losing him and your mother—”

Samantha gently dried his tears. “He loved you too. He was proud of you. He called you stubborn, but I heard him say more than once that if he was half the man you were, he'd—he'd die a happy man.”

Abe's eyes shut. Tears seeped anyway. He let Samantha dry them, watched her dry her own. Nothing she could have said would have eased his heart more. And she had to have known it.

She'd forgiven him. He'd made the right choice. “Any special man in your life?”

Something flickered in her eyes, and she glanced away. “No.”

She'd been here since his heart attack, and as far as Abe knew, no man had visited her. Houston, where she lived, was less than three hours by car, an hour by plane. She didn't have the look of a woman missing a man. Good. One less obstacle. “Five years, with triple your salary. You'll have help.”

Samantha wrinkled her nose, the action reminding him of his late wife, who'd stand toe-to-toe with you and didn't take crap from anyone. “Uncle Evan and I have different opinions on things.”

An understatement.
“Won't matter. He—he won't be the one helping you run the company.”

“What? Who, then?” she stammered in bewilderment.

He took a few more breaths before he could answer. “I have a call in to him now.”

She looked confused and unsure. He hadn't expected it to be easy.

“Ask me again when you can reveal who the other person running the company will be.” She kissed him on the forehead. “Now, please rest. If the nurse okays it, I'll come up and sit with you in a couple of hours.”

“You gonna do it?” He had to know.

She patted his hand. “Let's talk more when you feel better.”

His baby girl hadn't given him the answer he wanted. Abe just prayed he had time to convince her. Now, for the worst part. “Please ask Evan to come see me.”

She hesitated. She and his son were never in the room with him at the same time. Neither ever mentioned the other.

“Please,” he asked.

She nodded, and then left.

Before the door closed, the nurse was back in the room, checking him, the monitors. “I think you've had enough visitors for the day.”

Abe wasn't going to argue, but there was one more person he needed to see alone. If he had to lie to do it.… “I could have some broth.”

The nurse straightened. His appetite hadn't been worth warm spit. “I can't leave you alone.”

“Evan is coming in a bit.”

The nurse hesitated. “We'll see. Just rest.”

Abe closed his eyes and tried to relax. His baby girl, Sammie, would send Evan. Abe just hoped his eldest would understand why he wasn't leaving him in charge. But he was afraid he wouldn't.

*   *   *

Outside her grandfather's bedroom, Samantha hung her head briefly and said a silent prayer for him. Each time she saw him, he was weaker. He needed the surgery, but for some reason he was putting it off. The doctor had warned them that he was playing with a loaded gun. Despite everything that had happened in the past between them, she loved him, regretted that she had stayed away so long. She'd blamed him, blamed Collins Industry, for taking her parents.

She'd missed so much with him, wasted precious time that she might not get a chance to have in the future. Straightening, she stared at the closed door, then started down the hall toward the stairs. Her uncle and his wife lived on the third and top floor. She wasn't looking forward to the conversation.

For some odd reason, her aunt and uncle had never liked her. Even as a child she had sensed their animosity. Her parents, her uncle and aunt, their children, and her grandfather lived in the same house. The three-story Georgian manor had ten bedrooms and had over twelve thousand square feet. It still seemed small at times because of her aunt and uncle's attitude.

Which was going to get worse once he learned his father didn't want him running Collins. Since her grandfather's heart attack, Evan had spouted a lot about “when I'm in charge.” He fully expected to step into his father's shoes. It wasn't going to happen.

But did she want the job?

She massaged her temple. She wanted to be passionate about something, but she wasn't sure what it was. She certainly wasn't thrilled with her job as a feature writer at the
Houston Sentinel
. She'd majored in journalism because it had nothing to do with the automobile industry.

She'd been an average student, graduated, and bounced around a lot until she'd landed a job as a feature writer at the newspaper in Houston. The pay was horrible, the hours worse. If not for the trust fund her parents left her, she would have never made it financially.

She thought she'd found love with Mark Washington, the sports reporter at the same newspaper. They'd dated for three months before she'd ended things six months ago. Mark wanted her back, but as she'd told her grandfather, for her it was over. Worse, she was tired of trying to avoid him at work. Perhaps if she were more forceful, he'd leave her alone. There was nothing to keep her in Houston. But did she want the responsibility for over two hundred people and a business she had only a basic understanding of?

No matter how she'd felt as a teenager, her father had loved the company
and
his father. He would have done—had done—whatever it took to ensure both were served well.

Could she walk away knowing her grandfather and Collins Industry needed her? She wondered, going up the flight of stairs to the top and third floor. She hoped she never had to find out. Tonight, if the nurse allowed her to visit, she was going to encourage her grandfather to schedule the surgery as quickly as possible. They all needed him.

She knocked on her uncle's door. He and his wife had the entire floor of eight rooms since their children, Shelby and Ronald, were grown and gone. From what she'd been able to learn from the housekeeper, her cousins came home less than she did. They'd called but hadn't come to visit their parents or their grandfather.

The door opened and her uncle stared down his nose at her, his eyes as unwelcoming as ever. “Yes?”

Not even a semblance of a smile, of warmth. Once her grandfather went back to the hospital for his surgery, she was moving into the guest cottage in the back of the house. She would have already been there if she hadn't wanted to be near her grandfather. It was obvious no one wanted her here except him.

“You wanted something?” he asked. He'd been home from work since a little after five, yet he still had on his white shirt and red silk tie. It was almost six. He and his wife both had a fondness for designer clothes and fine jewelry.

“Granddad wants to see you.”

“He must be feeling better.” He spoke over his shoulder. “Janice, Daddy wants to see me. I'll be back and we can go down to dinner.”

Dinner was always served when Evan wanted. The kitchen was closed otherwise. Her uncle liked being in charge. She just hoped her grandfather didn't intend to tell him about his plans to put her in charge until he was stronger.

Tall and trim, Evan stepped into the hall. “Was there something else?”

She'd rather do anything than have a confrontation, but she forged ahead. Her grandfather's health was too fragile. “He's still weak and shouldn't be upset.”

Dark eyes glinted with malice. “I know how to treat my father. Unlike you, I've been here.” He brushed past her and continued down the hall.

Samantha slipped her hands into the pockets of her jeans, stared after him, then headed for the stairs. Looked like she was eating out again. There was no way she was going to sit through another dinner with her aunt and uncle.

*   *   *

Abe heard the knock on the door and said a prayer he'd find the right words. His nurse opened the door.

“My father wanted to see me.”

Abe briefly shut his eyes. Evan hadn't even looked at Bertha. How could his flesh and blood be so uppity and condescending?

“I was just going down to heat up some broth. Just sit, no exertion. His granddaughter left a short time ago.”

Abe saw Evan's mouth tighten. The boy never liked being told what to do. Or perhaps he recognized that Bertha had snubbed him by not looking at him just as he had her. “Of course.”

“I'll be back as quick as possible, Mr. Collins.”

Abe didn't try to acknowledge her in any way. Bertha would understand. He would need all of his strength in the coming minutes. Unlike Samantha, his oldest son didn't approach the bed. Abe couldn't help but think nothing would have kept William away.

“Need to talk to you,” he managed. He had to get this said.

Evan cautiously approached the bed, then slipped his hand into the pocket of his slacks. “Daddy, maybe you shouldn't talk.”

Abe finally saw that Evan was scared and unsure of himself. Unfortunately, Abe had seen the furrowed brow and darting gaze before. “Company in trouble.”

His son's brows drew together. His hand came out of his pocket. “What kind of trouble?”

“Losing business. My fault. Wouldn't listen.”

Evan braced one hand on the side of the bed near his father's arm and leaned closer. “Listen to whom?”

“William. Dillon.”

Evan's shoulders snapped upright. Anger flashed in his dark eyes. “You're dwelling in the past. It's the effect of the lack of oxygen when you had the heart attack.”

“No. Wrong. I asked Sammie to help run the company.”

“What?” Evan yelled. “Are you crazy? She's a reporter, for God's sake! You must be senile!”

“No. Try to understand.”

“Understand that you always loved William more and, since you can't have him, you want the daughter!” Evan yelled, leaning closer to his father. “You can't do this to me!”

All wrong. All wrong.

Abe struggled to lift himself from the bed to somehow reassure Evan, who had always been insecure. His son kept yelling, pacing, shutting his father out.

Abe couldn't understand the words because the pain in his chest was too severe. He was having trouble catching his breath. He fought to ignore the pounding in his chest, the dizziness, the sense of falling, of darkness.

Somehow he had to fix this. He—
Abe slumped back on the bed and didn't move. The monitor wailed long and loud.

Evan spun. Horror and fear gripped him. “Daddy!” He rushed to the bed.

The beeper screamed. Evan screamed louder. “Daddy! God, no! I didn't mean it. Please, no!”

The nurse burst into the room and rushed to the bed, but even as she grabbed the automatic electronic defibrillator and ordered a hysterical Evan to call 911, she knew that it was too late.

Abe Collins wasn't going to cheat death twice.

 

One

Most of Elms Fork had turned out for Abe Collins's funeral, Dillon Montgomery noted. Two hours ago, they'd spilled out of the largest church in town. There were so many flowers, it had taken two black vans to carry them to the cemetery. The slow procession of cars behind the hearse had been two miles long. Most of the businesses—except for the gas stations and a couple of restaurants—were closed in honor of a man who had made Elms Fork more than a dot on a map.

Muffled sniffles came from beside him. Feeling helpless, Dillon tightened his arm around his mother's slim shoulders. She wasn't a woman who cried easily. They both had reasons to hate and love the man being slowly lowered into his final resting place. Abe had stuck by Dillon's mother when half the town and many of the employees at Collins Industry turned their backs on her because she'd been unwed and pregnant with Dillon.

Twenty-three years later, he'd fired Dillon and ordered him off the company's property. At sixty-nine, standing six feet, he'd still been a man who could win against another man half his age and win. At twenty-two, brash and arrogant, Dillon might have taken him on if his mother, Abe's secretary at the time, hadn't come into the office when she'd heard them arguing.

“Dillon,” his mother said softly, bringing him back to the present, “I can't believe he's gone.”

Dillon patted her arm awkwardly. It was just him and his mother. He had no idea how to deal with her grief. She'd lost friends, of course, but none had affected her as much as Abe's passing.

“I feel sorry for Samantha,” his mother continued. “She'll have no one now.”

Her uncle and aunt certainly wouldn't be there for her,
Dillon thought. They were as selfish and snobbish as they came. Although Dillon didn't associate with them, they probably hadn't changed much in twelve years.

Dillon couldn't see Samantha for the crush of people, the towering hats the women wore, but he could visualize her face—hurt and embarrassed after he'd rebuffed her awkward attempt to seduce him.

That had been twelve years ago. His mind shut down from going further. Those thoughts weren't appropriate at a funeral. He hadn't seen or heard from her since. “She'll be fine.”

“I hope you're right. Abe loved her so much,” his mother mused. “I'm glad she came before we lost him.”

Dillon wasn't sure if his mother expected an answer or just wanted to talk. He'd come as soon as he'd heard The Old Man, as Abe was called behind his back, had died. Listening to the strong voice of the minister Dillon couldn't think of one reason why Abe would have called him the day he'd died. Dillon had been in Canada working on a Lotus for the Formula One vintage car racing competition.