Teddy Bear Heir (15 page)

Cameron closed his eyes against the sudden sting of moisture. Julian was a law unto himself. He hadn't given up the company because he'd wanted to see him happily settled down with a wife and children. He was certain of this.

They'd already learned that Julian had simply collapsed in his office after one particularly unpleasant call from Joshua Burrell. Mrs. Monahan had found him on the floor, gasping for breath, and had called an ambulance. Once at the hospital, it had been determined that Julian Black hadn't had a heart attack. He’d fallen prey to exhaustion and stress.

At his age, it was a dangerous combination.

"We'll be coming directly to the hospital," Cameron said.

"I'll have the car waiting."

* * *

"Julian," Michaela said softly as she approached the bed.

Cameron watched as she leaned down and kissed the old man on the cheek. At the same time that he admired her emotional openness, he wondered why he hadn't been the first one to approach the hospital bed and offer comfort.

Sometimes he despised his own coldness.

"Grandfather," he said, then took the elderly man's hand and squeezed it for a second. It felt far too frail and cool.

"Foolish...thing...to do," Julian muttered, struggling to keep his eyes open. Mrs. Monahan had told them he was on some sort of medication to keep him calm. The doctors had told him he couldn’t afford to get so emotionally worked up.

"Julian?" Michaela said, touching his forehead gently, smoothing back a lock of wintry white hair. "Don't talk. I don't want you to talk right now. I want you to listen."

His response was a smile.

Cameron watched her beautiful profile, watched the tears glistening in her eyes as she said, "We're getting married, Julian. Everything's fine, we worked it all out on the island."

The enormity of what she was doing hit him in the chest full force. He could barely breathe.

Cameron saw Michaela place the elderly man's hand on her slightly rounded belly.

"You simply have to be here when this baby is born," she whispered. "My Dad’s not around anymore, you know that."

Cameron, his throat tight, saw a single tear slide down Julian's tired face.

He muttered something.

"What?" Michaela said. She moved closer so her face was next to his.

"So sorry... ultimatum."

"No." She tightened her grip on his hand. Cameron blinked against the moisture in his eyes as she proceeded to gently scold his grandfather.

"No, Julian, you were right. We were both a pair of stubborn fools. All work, no play. You knew what you had with Mary, you told me that. It was no crime to want the same for Cameron."

"And... you," Julian whispered.

"Oh, don't say anything more, Julian, I can't bear to see you hurt," Michaela whispered.

Cameron felt himself moving forward, clumsily putting his arm around her shoulders. She glanced up at him, surprised, then focused her attention back on the frail, elderly man in the hospital bed.

"Always working, Julian. Who do you think he learned it from?" She nodded at Cameron.

Julian smiled then and opened his eyes, rallying one last time against his medication.

"I... need... your help, little girl."

She nodded and Cameron saw the sudden, stubborn straightening of her shoulders. She still held his grandfather's hand cupped against her belly but now there was an energy flowing through her that hadn't been there before.

"I'm going to nail this case for you, Julian. Do you know who Joshua Burrell has chosen for the trial?"

"Man named... Thompson."

"He's a vicious bastard but not terribly bright. We can beat him."

"You
... want you... in court."

She hesitated and Cameron knew why. Michaela's specialty was contract law, she hadn't been in a courtroom in a long time. He knew how frightening the prospect was but he also knew she'd move heaven and earth for his grandfather, do anything to see him get better.

"I'll be there, Julian." She took his hand and gently warmed it between her own. "There's just one thing. Is there anything you have, like notes, or a journal, or even a letter that might help us? Evidence that you created Bandit Bear?"

Cameron watched as his grandfather slowly focused his thoughts. His eyes, once bright blue and twinkling with life, were clouded with pain. But he struggled to stay with them and Cameron was subtly humbled by his relative's show of strength and spirit.

"The little house...the hideaway..."

"On the island," Cameron answered quickly, wanting his grandfather to know that he understood.

"Yes..."

"What are we looking for?" Cameron asked.

"Journal... bound in red leather... notes and... Mary's sketches. Get Manuel... to take you there..."

"Julian," Michaela said quietly. "We're going to take care of everything. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. We're your family and we're going to take care of this once and for all."

"Take care... of... that baby."

"On my honor," she whispered.

He coughed, then cleared his throat. "Should've given you the company long ago, Cameron. But... I'm a foolish old man, as stubborn as... you are."

"Don't tire yourself," Cameron said, hurting for him.

Julian looked up at Michaela. "Don't let them...do this to me. Take away...my name. I don't... want it to end this way."

"I promise, Julian. You have my word. Besides, you have to get better to dance at my wedding." She leaned down and kissed the wrinkled cheek.

She sat by Julian until his even breathing told her he was asleep, then quietly walked out of the private room.

Cameron let her go, needing some time alone with the man who'd been more than a grandfather to him.

"Told you," Julian muttered.

"What?" Cameron said, realizing his grandfather was still awake and taking his hand between his own, as Michaela had.

"One in a... million, that girl."

"I know," Cameron said softly. "I know."

* * *

He found her in the hospital hallway, on her phone.

Cameron leaned against the wall, letting it support his suddenly shaky legs. He wasn't sure why but he’d never been able to conceive of Julian dying. The old man had always had tremendous strength and vitality. But now Cameron could see he should’ve taken the reins away from him a long time ago.

He blamed himself quickly, viciously, then let it go. Thinking of what might have been, should have been, was a complete waste of time. All they had was the present moment.

And he and Michaela had a journal to find.

"He can't push the court date up like this!"

Michaela's irate voice sounded loud in the quiet of the hospital. She ended the call and turned toward him, her eyes flashing with anger. He was reminded of the first time he'd seen her, when she’d come striding into the office. Michaela was a warrior.

"I'd like to take Burrell and shove him off a cliff! First he fires me and now he pulls this!"

"Tell me."

"He's using Julian. He's going to leak nasty little tidbits to the media, make it a sensational case, play it for all the publicity the firm can get!"

"Who told you this?"

"Cassandra. Her best friend still works there."

"What about pushing up the date? What was that about?"

"Burrell is pushing to go to trial as soon as possible. How quickly can we get our hands on that journal?"

He lowered his voice, looking up and down the hospital corridor. A lawsuit like this could ruin a company. Oh, not totally. Teddy's Toys would still make a tidy profit. But it was like a fast food outlet that served spoiled sandwiches. Once you lost your name in something ugly it was hard to get back your former reputation.

"It’s going to take a few days. I'll have to hike up to the cabin with my grandfather's friend, Manuel. Julian built the little house so he and my grandmother could get away from it all. It’s really off the beaten track."

"I'm going with you—"

"No."

"Damn it, Cameron! I'm pregnant, not an invalid!"

"Julian told you to take care of that baby."

"A little exercise will do me a world of good—"

"The answer is no."

"The answer," she said, rising up on tiptoes and pushing her face right next to his, "is that you have no choice. You need a lawyer to go through the stuff in that house because you need someone who knows what will hold up in court or what will make your grandfather look like he stole his own logo. That would break his heart and you know it. So you don't have a choice, Cameron. You don't have a choice at all!"

* * *

They stopped briefly at Michaela's house to check on the cats and let her pick up a few things for their trek into the heart of the island. Mrs. Monahan had promised to check in on Gomez and Morticia, feed them and play with them.

Though Cameron still grumbled now and again about her accompanying him, Michaela knew she'd won this round.

She'd thought he was waiting downstairs so when she caught a glimpse of him in the nursery as she walked briskly down the hall, she stopped.

He was standing by the crib, his hand touching a mobile she'd hung. The mobile was a staple in the Teddy's Toys catalog, with brightly colored clowns and circus animals. When you wound it up, it played a tune.

"Cameron?" She knew they were on a tight schedule and that he wanted to return to the airport as soon as possible.

"You did a good job," he said, his attention on the mobile as his touch made the tiny stuffed figures bob and sway.

"Thank you." She liked what she'd done with the room. It seemed to offer all the things she wanted the baby—their baby—to have. Love and protection and warmth.

"I meant... in the hospital room."

She'd already put that behind her. Emotionally, what she’d told Julian had seemed like the right thing at the time. She'd had to give the old man something that had been in short supply recently. Hope.

"Oh. I was hoping you wouldn't be angry."

"I'm not."

"We can work it out later."

"I know."

"I didn't mean to back you into a corner—"

"I know, Mike. But I...wanted to thank you. I'm... not as good as you are with people."

She knew how proud he was and how much that very private admission cost him.

"You're welcome."

Silence filled the air around them until she finally said, "I think we have a plane to catch."

He nodded and stilled the mobile's movement with his hand.

* * *

Their first step, after returning to Cameron's island, was to find Manuel.

"Manuel?" The shopkeeper squinted in the bright sunlight. "He never misses a card game. You'll find him over behind the Las Palmas tavern."

Other island inhabitants were glad to share their various opinions.

"Manuel? He's always out on his boat, that one. But how he can manage it is beyond me. Drinks a lot, you know?"

"Manuel? That lazy son of a gun owes me twenty dollars, and you tell him—"

"Manuel? I think he has a job as a lounge singer in that little hotel on the beach."

Thus, less than twenty-four hours after they'd left Julian's hospital room, both Cameron and Michaela found themselves in the smoky, dimly lit lounge of The Blue Parrot.

"'Fee-lee-ings... Nothing more than fee-lee- ings..."'

"Why is it," Michaela asked Cameron, "that they always sing that same song?"

"Must be something about playing to what the audience wants."

"But that song?"

"Trying to for-get my fee-lee-ings of lo-ove...'"

The scantily clad waitress, tugging the bodice of her sarong up with one hand while she balanced their tray of drinks with the other, looked as tired as her feet in their six-inch heels probably felt.

"Is that Manuel on stage?" whispered Cameron as he gave the woman a generous tip.

She knew who he was. Everyone on the island knew who Cameron Black was. He'd bought the island and taken its people from an incredibly poor standard of living to something considerably better.

Julian had vacationed there years before Cameron had even been born and relocated several of the Teddy's Toys factories to the island. Many of the women supplemented their family incomes by doing piecework and various other bits of sewing. Julian had refused to lower wages even though he could have. He was something of a hero to the island residents.

"That's Manny all right. You'd think he'd learn a few new tunes, you know?"

Michaela stuck her tongue out at Cameron behind her hand.

"When's his break coming up?" Cameron asked.

"Oh, twenty minutes or so."

"What does he drink?"

"Tequila shooters."

"What does the monkey drink?" Michaela asked as the waitress undulated away.

Cameron merely grimaced.

Manuel was on center stage, dressed in a rather worn tuxedo that had a glittery red collar and cuffs. Perched on the scratched piano, which was incongruously perfectly in tune, was a small brown monkey.

" 'I wish I'd nev-ver met you gi-irl...'"

"He'd never make it in Vegas," she whispered before she took a sip of her Virgin Colada, and almost made Cameron laugh.

Strangely enough, when she'd made her various promises to Julian, all her fears had left her.

What was left to be worried about when a man's life, reputation and entire career hung in the balance? How wrapped up could you be in your own problems when someone you cared for was in that much trouble? Women brought babies into the world every day. She'd manage.

When Manny's set ended, Cameron arranged for the waitress to deliver a bottle of Cuervo to his table, along with a shot glass.

The heavy-set Latin man looked around suspiciously, then visibly relaxed when he saw Cameron wave. He nodded his thanks, opened the bottle, and poured himself his first shot. The monkey sat to his left, happily engrossed in peeling a banana.

"I have a feeling," Cameron muttered as he stood, "that we'd better get the information while Manny's still standing."

"I don't know," said Michaela as she followed him around the tightly packed tables and chairs. "Everyone I know who drinks tequila never gets drunk and rarely has a hangover."