“Isn’t life always tough for the working man—or in my case, the working woman?”

Jeremy caught a hint of some deep sadness in her eyes as she voiced those words. Did this pretty woman in the flowing skirt and warm green sweater have problems, too?

He couldn’t imagine that. Gabi’s smile was too bright, her walk too proud. She obviously had a strong faith, since she taught Sunday school here at the church. But he supposed a lot of people put on a happy face over their worries, faithful or not. His parents had certainly been doing that for years. For all of his life.

“Thanks for helping me out. Maybe I’ll see you in church.”

Jeremy couldn’t muster up another smile. “Maybe.”

He watched as Gabriela Valencia disappeared into the room down the hall. And took all the light with her.

DAVIS LANDING:

Nothing is stronger than a family’s love.

LENORA WORTH

grew up in a small Georgia town and decided in the fourth grade that she wanted to be a writer. But first she married her high school sweetheart, then moved to Atlanta, Georgia. Taking care of their baby daughter at home while her husband worked at night, Lenora discovered the world of romance novels and knew that’s what she wanted to write. And so she began.

A few years later, the family settled in Shreveport, Louisiana, where Lenora continued to write while working as a marketing assistant. After the birth of her second child, a boy, she decided to pursue her dream full-time. In 1993, Lenora’s hard work and determination finally paid off with that first sale. “I never gave up, and I believe my faith in God helped get me through the rough times when I doubted myself,” Lenora says. “Each time I start a new book, I say a prayer, asking God to give me the strength and direction to put the words to paper. That’s why I’m so thrilled to be a part of Steeple Hill’s Love Inspired line, where I can combine my faith in God with my love of romance. It’s the best combination.”

Christmas Homecoming

Lenora Worth

To anyone who has ever been away from home at Christmas. I hope this story helps you find your way back.

I will lift up my eyes to the hills—from whence comes my help? My help comes from the Lord, Who made heaven and earth.

—Psalms 121:1–2

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

Swish. Swish. Swish. Jeremy Hamilton lifted the paint brush over his head, thinking his neck would be permanently damaged if he didn’t get this room finished soon. The cream-colored paint refused to stick to the wall. Most of it was all over him—in his hair, on his old shirt and splattered across the aged, spotted drop cloth underneath the rickety ladder. Groaning out loud, he almost threw down the brush in defeat.

But Jeremy had never been a quitter.

Well, not until a few months ago, at least.

He stopped painting and held the dripping brush over the bucket perched precariously on the ladder, memories swirling through his mind just like the paint pooling under his soggy brush. Outside the wide double windows, a December wind howled and fussed, causing leftover fallen leaves to dance across the parking lot.

How had December come so quickly? And how had his life taken such a turn that even now, all these months later, he was still spinning in the wind just like those leaves?

With just a few words from his powerful father, Wallace Hamilton, Jeremy’s whole life here in Davis Landing, Tennessee, had been turned upside-down. He’d gone from firstborn heir and vice president of a vast publishing conglomerate to being someone he didn’t even know himself.

He wasn’t really a Hamilton. His biological father, Paul Anderson, had died in a motorcycle accident before Jeremy was born, before his mother Nora could even tell her fiancé she was pregnant with his child. So for thirty-five years, Jeremy had been living a lie.

Worse, his parents, Wallace and Nora Hamilton, had also been living with that lie, even though they’d done their best to make a good life for their family. They’d worked hard to become pillars of the community, they’d been faithful to their church, and they’d done everything in their power to love and protect their six children, including him. Especially him, Jeremy reminded himself now.

Wallace Hamilton, once a wild playboy with a string of conquests, had fallen in love with delicate Nora McCarthy, and he’d married her knowing she was carrying another man’s child. That endearing act and the devastating secret behind it had been the foundation of their marriage—a good, solid union in spite of its beginnings. But finding out the truth had rocked Jeremy’s safe, secure world and shaken his own faith to its very foundations.

Wallace had been so ill with leukemia, and so unreasonable because of his helplessness, that he’d turned on Jeremy, taking out all his frustrations from his sickbed. How long has he secretly resented me? Jeremy wondered now, and not for the first time. That had been the burning question in Jeremy’s mind since he’d learned the truth. How long had his adoptive father wanted to tell Jeremy that he shouldn’t be a part of Hamilton Media? That he didn’t really belong, after all?

Probably since the day I was born.

Which was why Jeremy had left Davis Landing a few months ago to do some soul-searching, and to find out more about his biological father’s family. That long journey hadn’t brought him any answers, just more questions and more doubts. So many doubts. His paternal grandparents down in Florida had welcomed him, but they’d obviously had mixed feelings regarding his existence. After all, they’d been estranged from their only son when he’d died. Jeremy felt the parallels of that clear truth as he now thought about his estranged relationship with Wallace.

Did he really want to stay away, knowing his father might not make it? He’d never forgive himself if that happened, and yet, he hadn’t been able to go and see Wallace since coming home a few days ago.

Knowing that Paul Anderson had died away from his family made Jeremy feel petty and small. Especially after he’d tracked his grandparents down. It had been an awkward reunion, but Jeremy was glad he’d made the effort. At least it had brought the Andersons some sort of comfort and closure. And maybe, a new beginning.

“You come back anytime,” his grandmother Thelma had told Jeremy the morning he decided to leave Florida. She hugged him tight. “You don’t know how much it means to me, to see you, to know I have a grandson. Your father…well, he was a rebel, a real handful. I wish I could have told him how much I loved him.”

Jeremy had seen pictures. He looked just like Paul Anderson—dark-haired, blue-eyed, tall and angular. It must have been hard on his grandmother, seeing the image of her son in the flesh after all these years.

It seemed to be even harder on Chester Anderson. His grandfather had resented Jeremy, maybe because he’d been denied ever knowing he had a grandson. Chester had tried, but in the end, his silence and his condemnations of Thelma’s quiet faith, had only caused the gap between Jeremy and him to widen.

“We’ll go fishing next time,” he’d said to Jeremy. “Maybe on a Sunday. I fish while Thelma does her church thing.”

Jeremy had figured that was Chester’s way of saying he’d like to see him again. And it had also been his ornery grandfather’s way of telling Jeremy that he wasn’t a believer like his wife.

So Jeremy had left, his doubt and his confusion scattering out into the balmy Florida breezes. Not even a vast ocean had helped him find the answers he’d needed.

And here he stood, different but hoping to be the same. He’d come full circle, and yet he was still very lost. He’d come home to find all his siblings either getting married or falling in love. Hoping to find some strength in his family, Jeremy had discovered that he was as alone as ever. That feeling of isolation echoed through his mind over and over, causing him to stay away from his ailing father’s bedside. He wasn’t ready for another confrontation, and he certainly couldn’t take any more revelations.

He could see now what he hadn’t been able to pinpoint growing up—he’d always had a feeling of being set apart from his brothers and sisters, a feeling of somehow being different, of not quite measuring up. Maybe because he wasn’t really their flesh and blood. He even looked different, more like his real father, based on the pictures his grandmother had shown him. He was the half brother. He had no claims to the Hamilton empire. Except those he felt deep inside his heart.

Alone, aloof and isolated, he’d come home, hoping to find solace with his family, but he’d never felt more lonely. He shouldn’t have come back, and yet, he’d needed to do that very thing. In spite of his doubts and frustrations, the road, and maybe God’s gentle voice, had brought Jeremy home.

He had to wonder at the irony of being here now, inside the Northside Community Church, since he hadn’t been very faithful lately. Maybe the Lord was trying to remind Jeremy of his real roots right here in this church and this town. Roots that ran deeper than blood or birthrights.

“By allowing me to waste paint and ruin my favorite old shirt?” Jeremy asked, his hushed words echoing out over the empty room. “You sure do have a strange sense of humor, Lord.”

Jeremy slapped paint onto the wall, thinking he wasn’t being entirely fair in thinking the worst of his parents. Wallace had married Jeremy’s mother, first to protect her, but mostly because he loved her. And Wallace still loved Nora. Jeremy knew this in his heart, but that fact didn’t soften the feelings of betrayal and distrust he’d experienced the day Wallace had called Jeremy into his hospital room to tell him the truth. He could still hear his father’s weak, harsh words.

You have no right, Jeremy. No right to go against my word on how things should be run at Hamilton Media. Do you understand me?

No, Dad, I’m afraid I don’t understand.

Jeremy remembered his mother’s pale face, her shaking hands. Her pleas. “Wallace, now is not the time—”

But Wallace had found the strength to come up off his pillows. “It’s the perfect time. I might not make it, Nora. Things might change for good. And I won’t have someone who isn’t even my own blood ruining what I’ve worked so hard to build.”

The shocked silence that had followed still haunted Jeremy’s mind, silence that stretched out with only the beeping of machines to keep it from seeming like a bad dream.

“What did you say?”

Wallace had looked stunned himself, then embarrassed, his eyes went to his wife’s face. “I’m sorry, son. We should have told you years ago—”

“We only wanted to protect you,” his mother had interrupted, tears in her eyes.

“Protect me from what, Mother? What’s going on?”

“You’re not my son,” Wallace had blurted, his words turning into a wheezing cough.

Nora had urged her husband back on the pillows. “Your biological father was a man named Paul Anderson. He died in a motorcycle accident, before I could—” She glanced at Wallace. “I was pregnant when your father—when Wallace married me.”

You’re not my son.

Those words had echoed over and over in Jeremy’s mind, screaming to him until he’d lashed out at his parents. “How could you? How could you do this to me?”

The scene that had followed hadn’t been Jeremy’s finest hour. He’d told Wallace in no uncertain terms that he quit; he wouldn’t work for a man who’d lied to him all his life.

Jeremy had walked out of the hospital and, other than a few short conversations with his siblings and his mother, hadn’t made any effort to be a part of the Hamilton family since. Until Thanksgiving. The holiday traditions had pulled at him, bringing him home.

Now, as he stood painting over the old, battered wall of the daycare room, Jeremy couldn’t help but feel as if he were painting over all the flaws in his own life, too. Maybe there was something to be said for a fresh canvas.

“You know, the paint is actually supposed to go on the wall.”

Jeremy turned at the soft, feminine tone, and managed to sling paint out in an arc all over his blue broadcloth shirt. Holding the dripping paintbrush, he smiled sheepishly. His smile felt strained and out of practice, but he tried to keep his voice light. “Really?”

The woman stepped into the room, careful to avoid the corner where Jeremy was working, her dark eyes inquisitive and full of mirth. “Really.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he slowly lowered the brush over the bucket. Then he waved a hand toward the wall. “Does it look that bad?”

She gazed up, looking around the room. “No, it actually looks pretty good, considering all the crayon marks and dents and pings we’ve had to endure. We’re going to paint a mural of Noah’s Ark over most of it anyway, so I think it’ll be just fine.”

Jeremy held up his hands. “I’m certainly not going to sign up for that particular job, so don’t even ask.”

She laughed at that, the sound as soft as a melody. “I heard you talking to yourself,” she said, advancing another step. “Thought you might need some company.”

Jeremy grinned, some of the tension leaving his body. “Thanks, I think. That makes me feel much better about things. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t disturb you with my groans and rantings.”

“Not at all. I just came by to gather some papers— I teach Sunday School here.” Then she smiled again. “I heard all this noise, and thought maybe someone had unleashed an old bear in the nursery, so I came to inspect. I’m the nosy type.”

Her vivid smile brought a ray of light into the open, airy room, immediately pushing away the winter chill. She was petite and olive-skinned with big hazel eyes and long brown hair that reminded Jeremy of an antique doll his sister Heather had received for Christmas long ago. He caught a whiff of a light, exotic scent that had somehow gotten past the paint fumes.

“I’m not a bear,” he said, his hands braced on the ladder. “Just a frustrated artist, I think.”

“I’m Gabriela Valencia,” the woman said, her smile still intact as she stared up at him. “Gabi. And we do appreciate your efforts, believe me. We’ve been hoping to remodel this part of the building for months now. We need all the help we can get if we want to have it done by Christmas.”

“Well, Gabi, I’m just a volunteer,” Jeremy said, not ready to tell her who he really was, even though she had an expectant look on her pretty face. He didn’t want to see her smile vanish just yet. And he figured it would the minute she heard his name.

“We like volunteers,” she replied. “They work cheap.”

He laughed at that, surprised that he remembered how to laugh. “It is kind of nice to be alone and busy. No clocks ticking, no deadlines to fight.”

“You sound like a man who speaks from experience.”

He looked out the window. The sky looked gray and cold. “You could say that.”

He didn’t want to elaborate. He’d reluctantly agreed to help out here at the insistence of Dawn Leroux. The woman who’d once been his brother Tim’s administrative assistant was now the woman Tim loved and planned to marry. She could be very persuasive when she set her mind on something. No wonder Tim had fallen so hard for her.

And no wonder Tim seemed more mellow and relaxed. His brother was in love…and happy. Jeremy envied that, and he was going to try very hard to mend fences, not tear down his brother’s newfound contentment.

When Jeremy had arrived home just in time for Thanksgiving dinner at the Hamilton estate, he’d been surprised by two things. First, his brother Tim had apologized to Jeremy and welcomed him back home and back to Hamilton Media, when he was ready. And second, Tim introduced Jeremy to his fiancée, Dawn Leroux, and explained that because of Dawn, he was now a changed man. After some quiet conversation around the fireplace later, Dawn had gently suggested Jeremy might enjoy doing some volunteer work at the church to get his mind off his problems.

Painting had certainly done that, he thought now as he gave up and came down off the ladder, his manners kicking in, in spite of his discomfort at being here. “I’m kind of new to this type of work.”

“I can see that,” the woman said, circling the long room with a critical eye. She pointed to the wall he’d just finished. “You missed a spot there.”

Jeremy looked up, then laughed. “Or two. I guess it’s true you get what you pay for. I painted the ceiling, too, but I think I got most of the paint on me and the drop cloth.”

She nodded. “It’ll turn out just fine, I think. This old building has seen a lot of children come and go, my two girls included. We want to give it a fresh start for all the other babies we hope to bring into the church.”

“A fresh start.” Jeremy wiped his hands on an old rag. “I like the sound of that.”

“Would you like something to drink?” she asked as she started toward the door. “We have some coffee in the office and there might even be a pastry from Betty’s left in the break room.”

Jeremy closed his eyes for just a minute. “Ah, Betty’s Bake Shoppe and Bookstore. Fuel and knowledge all in one place—what an unbeatable combination.”

“You’ve eaten there?”

He liked the slightly accented sound of her question. And he really liked the beautiful flash of fire in her eyes.

“Many times,” he said, not bothering to explain. “But I don’t need anything, thanks.” Then, since he wasn’t quite comfortable being back home, let alone working at the church, he looked at his watch and started putting his brushes in the soak bucket in the corner. “I have to go. I’ll clean up here and try to hide the mess I made.”

She looked confused and a bit disappointed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

Jeremy regretted being so standoffish, but he was still uneasy with his new identity, or lack thereof. “No, no. It’s just that I only had a couple of hours and I’ve already worked past my time here. I’ll be back to finish the job, I promise.”

“Okay, then.” She pointed to his hair. “You…uh…have a big glob of paint right in the middle of your head.”

Jeremy reached up to rub his fingers over the sticky matted spot of cream in his dark hair. “I don’t think I’ll give up my regular job just yet.” Whatever that job might be.

“Turpentine,” she said, nodding. “It smells terrible, but it’ll take the paint out. Just be careful, or you might wind up with a bald spot.”

“Right.” Jeremy wondered how such a dainty little woman could possibly know anything about remodeling and repair. But then, she obviously was a married woman. She’d mentioned two kids. Probably helped her husband around the house on weekends. That image brought Jeremy a pang of regret, to be quickly replaced with a resolved indifference. “I’ll have to get a shower before I go—”

He’d almost said before I go to Hamilton Media, but Jeremy remembered he didn’t really have a place there anymore, in spite of his brother Tim’s efforts to bring him back into the family business. “Before I go to work,” he finished, uncomfortable with the way her big eyes watched him.

“You must keep long hours,” she said as she led the way out the door. “It’s close to five now.”

“I have odd hours, true,” he replied. And lately, those hours had tumbled over each other with a never ending frequency that seemed as long and winding as the nearby Cumberland River.

She tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder as she headed back down the church hallway. “Tell me about it,” she said turning to give him a direct gaze. “Isn’t life always tough for the working man, or in my case, the working woman?”

Jeremy caught a hint of some deep sadness in her eyes as she voiced those words. Did this pretty woman in the flowing skirt and warm green sweater have problems, too?

He couldn’t imagine that. Her smile was too bright and sure, her walk too proud and precise. She obviously had a strong faith, since she taught Sunday School here at the church. But he supposed a lot of people put on a happy face over their worries, faithful or not. His parents had certainly been doing that for years. For all his life.

She lowered her head, looking shy for just a minute. “Thanks for helping out. Maybe I’ll see you in church.”

Jeremy held her gaze, but he couldn’t muster up another smile. “Maybe.”

He watched as Gabriela Valencia disappeared into the room down the hall. And took all the light with her.

He never told me his name.

Gabi hurried inside the house, intent on getting the girls a quick supper while they finished their homework. As she opened the door, she was bombarded by voices and barks and the blare of the television, all coming at her at once.

“Mommy, can Lauren spend the night with us Friday?” This came from her youngest, Talia. The eight-year-old jumped and bounced around as Gabi dropped her groceries on the tiny kitchen counter.

“I told her it’s my turn to have a friend over,” Veronica, her oldest, ten and going on twenty, said before Gabi could take a breath. Pushing her younger sister out of the way, Veronica stomped her purple-sequined sneakers on the tile floor. “It’s my turn, Mommy.”

“I can’t sit with the girls tomorrow, Aunt Gabi. I have to stay after school and work on a project for my English class.”

Gabi turned, almost tripping over the barking mutt they’d picked from one of her brother Arturo’s many litters. “Down, Tramp. I’ll get you a treat in just a minute.” Letting out a long sigh, she stared at her sixteen-year-old niece, Sonia, oldest child of her brother Juan Carlos. “That’s okay, Sonia. I’ll just have to ask Mama to come sit with the girls tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Sonia asked, heading out the door. “I have to do this project to bring my grade up.”

“Not a problem,” Gabi responded. “School comes first, even if it means these two have to occasionally get spoiled by their grandmother.”

Sonia grinned, then left to walk the short distance to her own house. “See you later.”

“Yes,” Talia said, pumping her little fist. “Maybe Nana will help me make cookies for my class party.”

“I’m sure she’d love to do that, honey,” Gabi said as she put away milk and eggs, ignoring Talia’s obvious frustration that Gabi hadn’t had time to help with cookies at the last class party. “And about this weekend, Talia, let’s let Roni have a friend over Friday, since she and her friends stay up later. You can have someone over Saturday night—and take your friend to church with us Sunday, okay?”

The girls eyed each other, each trying to decide who’d gotten the better deal.

“I can live with that,” Veronica, or Roni as everyone called her, said, nodding her head. Her long brown ponytail bobbed as she strolled away, her whole stance reminding Gabi of the girls’ deceased father, Octavio.

“Works for me,” Talia said, launching her tiny body against Gabi’s skirt. “I’m glad you’re home, Mommy.”

“Me, too, baby,” Gabi said, her thoughts still on the handsome stranger she’d found painting the daycare room at church. “Now do me a big favor and turn off that television. You need to finish your school work before you watch any more TV.”

Talia mumbled her protest, but did as Gabi asked, while Gabi went back to thinking about the man she’d met today.

He sure did fit the role of the strong, silent type. Not too forthcoming with details. Good-looking and surely a gentleman. It wasn’t so much his clothes—even though they’d been old and paint-covered she could tell they’d probably cost a pretty penny new. It was the way he carried himself, the way he smiled, or tried not to smile. He seemed like a man who could be comfortable in any setting, even a church nursery. Could be. At first, he’d seemed unsure, until she’d made him laugh. And what a nice laugh he had, a little rusty and throaty, but very enticing.

Stop it, she told herself as she opened a can of vegetable soup, then dug inside the refrigerator to find cheese for grilled cheese sandwiches.

But Gabi had always been too curious for her own good. She’d always been able to single out wounded souls, according to her mother, Marisol Marquez.

“You have a gift for helping others, Gabi,” her mother used to tell her. “A nurturing soul.”

Well, that nurturing soul hadn’t helped her save her own husband, Gabi thought now. Which was why she’d made a solemn vow since his death to put her children first. Love wasn’t in her future, except for the love she felt for her girls, and the love she felt for God’s enduring salvation. She was a working mother and a widow who’d soon turn thirty. She had a steady job in administration at Community General and she had a good solid group of friends at church. She mostly met herself coming and going—no room for romance in her busy life.

And yet, as she sat down to say grace with her girls, Gabi couldn’t help but think of the interesting, quiet stranger she’d met that afternoon. He should have looked so out of place standing there, all splattered in paint.

But to Gabi, he’d looked just right for some reason.

She’d have to call her best friend Dawn and give her the lowdown. Just for fun. Just for some girl talk. After all, it had been a very long time since Gabi had felt like talking about a man.

Maybe too long.

Chapter Two

A chilly wind whipped at Gabi’s wool overcoat as she hurried the girls toward the sanctuary of the Northside Community Church. “C’mon, we don’t want to be late for the service.”

The century-old white-brick church located across the river from Davis Landing in Hickory Mills was all abuzz this morning as the faithful filed out of the education buildings tucked behind the sanctuary, headed to hear one of Reverend Charles David Abernathy’s rip-roaring sermons.

The big, redheaded preacher could be as blustery as this wind, but he had a heart of gold and he loved each and every one of his parishioners. That membership included both the affluent people from Davis Landing and the average working families here in Hickory Mills, where Gabi lived.

“I’m cold,” Talia whined, pulling her pink down jacket over her pleated plaid skirt.

“Well, the sooner we get inside, the warmer you will be,” Gabi pointed out, a strand of dark hair blowing across her face. “Roni, hurry up,” she said over her shoulder, her hand coming up to pull the escaping strand back from her jawline.

Veronica was giggling and whispering to her older friend Samantha Hart. No telling what those two were cooking up. But Gabi was glad her girls had such good role models as the Hart family. She knew her children were always safe and well taken care of when they were with Angela and Dave and their girls.

Gabi made it up the steps, then turned one more time to call out to her lagging older child. “Roni—”

She stopped, her heart picking up its pace as she saw him. Gabi took a second glance, just to make sure. It was him all right. The man she’d talked to two days ago in the daycare room of the church. He’d just gotten out of an expensive sedan, and he was walking up to the church with some of the Hamilton clan.

He sure cleans up nicely, Gabi thought as she took in the tall man dressed in a tailored overcoat and dark wool suit. His outfit probably cost more than one of her weekly paychecks, Gabi decided, wondering who this man really was.

He looked up then, his eyes locking with hers. At first, he seemed apprehensive and unsure, but then he sent her a hesitant smile, and he kept looking until Gabi felt a tug on her coat.

“Mom?”

Gabi glanced down at Talia. “What, honey?”

“Inside, remember? You wanted to get inside.”

“Right, so I did.” Gabi dropped her gaze, then turned to find her friend Dawn Leroux coming toward her.

“Dawn, hi! I tried to call you the other night. I wanted to talk to you about him. Only I didn’t know that he was…well, him, then.” She lifted her head toward the stranger. “You weren’t home.”

And now she wished she’d left a message. But Gabi had decided then that Dawn’s not being home had to be a sign to drop the whole thing. She had no business asking questions about a handsome stranger, especially since the stranger was obviously a friend of the Hamiltons. And way out of her league.

Dawn glanced in the direction of Gabi’s gaze. “Oh, him. I wanted to talk to you about him, too,” Dawn said, her tone a bit too smug, her blue eyes bright with hope. “He does have a striking presence, doesn’t he?” Then, as if realizing what Gabi had said, she asked, “What about him?”

“I’ve met him,” Gabi whispered as they walked into church. “He was painting in the daycare the other day.”

“Really? That’s great,” Dawn said, grinning. “I convinced him to help out. Oh, I’m so glad he actually took my advice.”

Realization flared through Gabi. “That’s the man you told me about—the man who left town because of a personal crisis?”

“That’s him,” Dawn said. “My future brother-in-law, Jeremy Hamilton.”

Jeremy Hamilton. He seemed so different from all the rest. Of course, if the rumors were true—he was different.

They found a pew and both women sank down, the girls settling beside Gabi. Her mouth fell open as she turned to whisper to Dawn. “He’s a Hamilton? You sure didn’t mention that,” she said, her gaze scanning the church doors for any sign of the topic of conversation.

Gabi quickly turned to face forward as Jeremy entered with his brother Tim. Suddenly all the pieces began to fall into place. This explained his almost aloof behavior the other day when she’d stumbled upon him painting. The man had every reason to be aloof. The Hamiltons were the local dynasty in these parts. Upper crust and top shelf. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t at least recognized him that day. But she’d never mingled in the same social circles as Jeremy Hamilton.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” she whispered to Dawn.

Dawn glanced down at the church bulletin, then frowned. “But I did. I told you all about him.”

Leaning close, Gabi replied, “You just said you had a friend who’d been going through a rough time and needed some space, so you suggested he volunteer at the church.” Then she brought a hand to her mouth. “He’s the older brother. The one who—”

Dawn interrupted with a whispered sigh. “He’s still a Hamilton, no matter who his biological father was. And he’s struggling, Gabi. With so many things. Jeremy and Tim have been at odds for a long time, but Tim wants to make amends. Jeremy is still hurting, though, and he needs to feel the love and trust of his church home. That’s why I suggested he volunteer here.”

Gabi lowered her head. It was so like gentle Dawn to figure out a way to put Jeremy at ease, and to bring him back to his faith. “I understand that, but you could have warned me. I actually flirted with the man!”

Dawn lifted an eyebrow, then smiled. “I didn’t tell you his name because I didn’t want to gossip in detail about his personal problems,” she said, glancing back to wave to other church members. “And I didn’t know he’d show up at the church so quickly.” Then she grinned again. “And I certainly didn’t plan on you running into him there, even though that worked out perfectly, if you ask me.”

“What do you mean?” Gabi said, careful to keep her voice low. All around them, people were greeting each other and laughing and talking. It was always like this before the service began.

Dawn shot her another hopeful glance. “Oh, nothing. Just…well…he’s lonely, Gabi. He needs a friend. And you’re—”

“A single mother,” Gabi reminded her, her eyes going wide as she emphasized that fact. “A single mother from the wrong side of the tracks. And he’s the CEO of Hamilton Media. Dawn Leroux, are you trying to set me up with Jeremy Hamilton?”

“Maybe,” Dawn replied. “And he’s not the CEO these days. But I’m hoping we can work on that, too.” Then her smile widened as Tim Hamilton came up the aisle and sat down beside her.

Gabi spoke to Tim, then stared ahead, listening while Dawn and Tim whispered softly to each other, their newfound love endearing and sweet. Then she felt Dawn’s arm on hers.

“Scoot over.”

Gabi glanced up as she moved down to make room. She knew who it would be, waiting to take a seat at the end of the pew. Jeremy Hamilton looked at her, waved a hand, then sat down, his head turned toward her. He mouthed a “Hi, there,” his eyes moving over Gabi and her girls.

Gabi gave him a weak smile, then turned to fuss over Talia and Roni as the organ music indicated the start of the service.

“Who is that, Mommy?” Roni asked, leaning forward to peer down the pew.

“Just a friend,” Gabi said, pushing her inquisitive daughter back. “Don’t stare, honey. It’s impolite.”

“Well, he keeps staring at us,” Talia pointed out, waving at Jeremy.

He waved back. And finally cracked a smile.

“He’s just being friendly,” Gabi said. Then she handed her daughter crayons and a fresh sheet of notepaper from her purse. “Draw me a picture.”

As the choir began singing the intro, Gabi stole another glance down the pew herself. Jeremy Hamilton was indeed smiling at her. And that smile sent a warm thrill all the way down to Gabi’s black leather ankle boots.

Oh, Lord, she began to pray. I’m sure in trouble here. Please help me to put this man out of my mind. Let me be a friend to him, to minister Your tender mercies, nothing more.

But that particular prayer seemed to go unheard. Because all during the service, Jeremy Hamilton was front and center in Gabi’s thoughts, and for more reasons than just tender mercies.

Jeremy was glad to be out of the old church. Slipping on his overcoat, he took a long breath of the frigid December air, his gaze scanning the sloping churchyard and the footbridge covering a gurgling creek that met up with the Cumberland River just beyond the trees. The familiar stained-glass windows, oak-paneled walls, and high-arched ceiling of the old sanctuary should have brought him some sort of comfort. Months ago, he’d prayed for his father in the tiny prayer room inside the church. He’d felt safe and secure there, having no doubt that God would take care of his father. And that God would take care of him, too.

Now, in spite of the familiar surroundings and all the smiles and greetings, he’d felt uncomfortable sitting there with everyone glancing at him. He wasn’t so secure in his faith on this cold Sunday morning.

They all knew his shame. They all knew his pain. Thanks to someone leaking his true parentage to their rival paper the Observer, everyone in Davis Landing knew that Wallace wasn’t Jeremy’s father. And while no one at church today had been unkind to him, Jeremy couldn’t help but feel their intense scrutiny. He’d been away; he was estranged from his powerful, sick father. He and his brother Tim had been feuding and at odds. Jeremy wasn’t at all surprised that the grapevines and gossip mills were going full throttle against him.

But Tim wants all of that to end, Jeremy reminded himself, still surprised that his high-maintenance younger brother had mellowed over the last few months. Maybe it was time for Jeremy to take some initiative and try to meet his brother halfway. Coming here today had been the first step, but now it seemed to be just one more bad decision.

Feeling determined after hearing Reverend Charles David’s impassioned sermon about King David and how he’d overcome all his mistakes, Jeremy held his head up, taking in the crisp noontime air. He’d go and visit his mother later, after he’d had some time to think. Right now, he only wanted to get away from the cluster of after-church minglers who seemed intent on laughing and talking their way out of the sanctuary.

Like David the shepherd crying out in the wilderness, Jeremy wanted to be alone with his torment. There were still so many things he needed to sort through—such as what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He also wanted to contemplate who could be trying to destroy his family, since someone obviously continued to leak one scandal after another regarding the Hamiltons. The latest had involved his baby sister Melissa’s out-of-wedlock pregnancy. Thank goodness Melissa now had Richard McNeil to love and protect her. She could probably use some kind words from her oldest brother, too, Jeremy thought. He hadn’t been very kind to anyone lately.

Glancing around, he looked for Tim to tell his brother he was leaving. In spite of his tentative truce with his brother, and his mother Nora’s pleas for him to forgive and forget, he wouldn’t be attending Sunday dinner with the family today. Since his mother hadn’t been in church, she would probably be at the hospital with Wallace anyway, and Jeremy wasn’t going there. He couldn’t bring himself to take up where he’d left off. It didn’t seem natural. None of this seemed right or natural.

Closing his eyes, Jeremy sent up a prayer. I need Your strength, Lord. I need to feel Your love. Help me make things right again. Help me find my purpose here.

He opened his eyes to find Gabi Valencia and her girls exiting the church. He’d been both surprised and cautious about seeing her again, since he’d never divulged his identity to her. She looked pretty in her sensible brown coat and long corduroy skirt, her hands holding on to her daughters on either side. The maternal scene stood out in sharp contrast to Jeremy’s rebellious thoughts. On impulse, he hurried to greet her.

“Hello,” he said, waiting at the bottom of the steps.

“Hi.”

Her greeting was short and distant. And he thought he knew the reason why.

“I never did introduce myself,” he said, hoping she’d give him a chance to explain. “I’m Jeremy Hamilton.”

The two little girls gazed down at him with wide-eyed curiosity, while their mother looked everywhere but at him.

She finally lifted her head, disappointment and distrust in her eyes. “No introductions needed now, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Jeremy,” he said. “I’m Jeremy. And as I said the other day, it’s complicated.”

“And none of my business,” she replied, already distracted as one of her pretty little daughters ran off with some playmates. “Talia, we have to go.”

The child kept on running. “Veronica, go get your sister and take her to the car,” Gabriela said, pushing the other girl toward the cluster of kids prancing around the parking lot.

“I’m Roni,” the one she’d called Veronica said to Jeremy. “I’m the oldest.”

Gabi shook her head, a wry mother’s smile turning up her mouth. “Which you remind everyone of constantly,” she said. “Now, scoot.”

“Nice to meet you, Roni,” Jeremy said, taking the girl’s hand to shake it.

The slender girl giggled, pulling away to hurry after her sister.

“They’re both lovely,” Jeremy said, not willing to give up just yet. “Like their mother.”

She looked back at him then. But the smile was gone. Her expression held doubt, her dark eyes going cynical. “Thank you.”

Feeling awkward and completely at a loss for words, Jeremy looked around. “I’d like to meet your husband.”

She lifted her head, her eyes filling with a deep pain. “I…I’m a widow. My husband…died a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jeremy said, understanding that sadness in her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” she replied, a soft smile lifting her full lips. “It was good to see you again.”

She moved to go after her girls, but Jeremy reached out a hand to stop her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was. I just needed…some time.”

She seemed to absorb that as her distant stance changed and a flicker of compassion came into her eyes. “I understand. Being a Hamilton probably does carry a lot of complications.”

He nodded, feeling the gentle censure in that remark. “You know all about me, I’m sure. So I can honestly say that in my case, not being a Hamilton carries even more complications. But I hope you won’t hold that against me.”

Her eyes widened at his implied remark. “Oh, no. You think—you must think—Mr. Hamilton, I mean, Jeremy, it never occurred to me—”

“It’s okay. Everyone’s curious. It’s understandable you’d be put off by all the scandal surrounding me. I guess my coming to church today wasn’t such a great idea, after all.”

He turned to leave, his heart hurting with the weight of his shame. And the weight of her rejection.

“Jeremy?”

He heard her call out. He stopped, but refused to turn around.

“I don’t back off very easily,” she said in a soft voice as she came closer. “And I don’t judge too harshly. You could have told me who you were the other day. It wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

He looked back then, caught up in her understanding gaze. “I appreciate that, at least. And I hope to see you again.”

She didn’t respond in words, but she did smile. It was a bittersweet smile, as if to say, “Sure, we’ll see each other again, but that’s about it.”

It was obvious they were from two very different worlds. It was also obvious that Jeremy had too much baggage surrounding him to let a nice woman like Gabriela Valencia get involved in his problems. She’d told him everything he needed to know. She was a working mother and a widow. She was a faithful churchgoer who didn’t want a man like him in her life. She was nice, pretty, polite, and way out of the realm of possibilities, because Jeremy wasn’t ready for anything near serious with a woman, and because this particular woman’s whole attitude toward him had changed now that she knew he was a Hamilton, or rather, now that she had found out he was the Hamilton.

The one everyone was talking about, the one everyone was feeling sorry for. He could certainly understand her hesitancy and her doubt. He had too much to get straight in his personal life before he plunged into any kind of relationship.

That much was apparent.

But something else was also apparent to Jeremy. Gabi Valencia represented the beautifully chaotic, homey existence he’d somehow lost out on, the kind of life he’d only dreamed about. But he’d always put that kind of life on hold, all for the sake of Hamilton Media. Those days were over, maybe for good.

For the first time in months, Jeremy had something, someone, other than himself and his family to focus on. He liked Gabi. He was intrigued by her, he was interested in her. And he really did hope to see her again. Very soon.

Chapter Three

Bright and early Monday morning, Jeremy stood in front of the Hamilton Media building, memories floating through his mind with the same drifting rhythm as the puffy clouds moving through the sky over Main Street.

Standing here now, he recalled in vivid detail the first time his father had brought him to this building. Jeremy must have been around five or so, and for months, he’d been begging Wallace to take him to the newspaper office. Wallace had always had an excuse.

“You’ll get in the way, son.”

“I’m too busy today, son. Maybe another time.”

Finally, one morning at the breakfast table, her teacup in hand, his mother had gently pleaded with Wallace to take Jeremy to work.

“Show our son what you do all day, darling. Show him the legacy of Hamilton Media. After all, it’ll all be his someday.”

“His—and his brother’s and sister’s, too,” Wallace had replied, his eyes still on his paper.

There had only been three Hamilton children then—Jeremy, Tim and tiny baby Amy. The twins and Melissa hadn’t even been born. But they’d all learned at very early ages about the Hamilton legacy, about how Jeremy’s namesake Jeremiah had started the Davis Landing Dispatch in the 1920s and had carried it through both the Depression and the Second World War. It was just assumed that every Hamilton child would be a part of this legacy.

At such a young age, however, Jeremy hadn’t been sure just what a legacy was, but he’d been very sure that his father didn’t want to take him to the office that day. He could still remember the whispered words between his parents, his father seeming stubborn and defiant, his mother, as always, gentle and persuasive. Finally, Wallace had given in, perhaps because his father had one soft spot and that was his wife.

Jeremy closed his eyes now, remembering the smells that had hit him when he’d entered the revolving doors to the lobby with his father. The aged, musty scents of antiques and old leather had mingled with the more modern smells of copier ink, new carpet and steel and plastic cubicles.

Then he’d heard the sounds: The ringing of many different telephones, the click-click of typewriters, and the easy, chaotic banter of reporters and editors had all assaulted Jeremy at once. It was an adrenaline rush that he’d never forgotten.

From the time he’d entered the building, the stain of printer’s ink had settled over Jeremy like a mantle. He’d figured out what the word legacy must mean. It meant power. He’d seen that as his father hurried to the old, rickety elevator and headed to his plush office on the third floor. He’d felt that when Wallace barked orders and had people scurrying to do his bidding, from his prim secretary bringing him fresh coffee and the Wall Street Journal, to the nervous staffers who knocked on his door bringing him many questions. Everything here flowed through Wallace Hamilton. Jeremy had been in awe of that.

And he’d also clung to his father’s every word, since Wallace rarely had time to spend with his oldest son. But on this day, only for today, Wallace had given Jeremy his undivided attention, simply by letting Jeremy watch him work. Wallace hadn’t explained or lectured or hinted at what was required of Jeremy. But Jeremy had immediately understood. And, still in awe, he’d sat quietly, trying very hard not to bother his busy, powerful father. Jeremy watched and listened and learned, all the while being taken care of by his father’s willing staff. If Jeremy wanted something, it immediately materialized. If he whimpered or whined, he was instantly hushed and handled.

But that day, as Jeremy had sat at his father’s feet playing with an old ink stamp, he’d been hooked. As he’d grown older and found any excuse to come to work with Wallace more and more, he became caught up in wanting to spend all of his time here in this powerful, exciting place. Jeremy became a part of Hamilton Media by showing up whenever he could to help out, to learn, to absorb every nuance of this place and the work that happened here. His father had noticed, had grudgingly approved, and…Jeremy had simply slipped into place as second in command.

He loved the way the Dispatch brought news to people, and the way Nashville Living magazine informed and enlightened people. He loved the way the reporters worked day and night, getting their facts, gathering their information. He loved the way a deadline hit, all chaotic and full of stress, to be followed by a long, collective sigh of relief that filtered all the way down from his father’s office to the lobby at day’s end.

Now he missed the fast-paced confusion of a work day, and the satisfied feeling of getting the job done.

Now, he didn’t know his place in the overall scheme of day-to-day life here at Hamilton Media. So he just stood, remembering, afraid to step back, afraid to move forward.

He stood and imagined Tim up there in the third-floor office that had once been Jeremy’s. Tim, so driven, so intense, was in love. Tim in love. Jeremy shook his head at that particular paradox. So many things had happened in a few short months. He thought about Amy and how focused she could be on any task, and how hard she must be working now that she was in charge of Nashville Living, even with her high-school sweetheart Bryan back in her life. He smiled at thoughts of sweet, shy Heather finding the man of her dreams, and her twin, police officer Chris, falling in love with an independent female reporter for the Dispatch. He worried about Melissa, hoped she was settled now that she had Richard as her husband-to-be. He’d missed out on so much with all his siblings. He’d come back for that reason. He loved his family, in spite of everything. He needed his family, in spite of everything.

He lifted his head, the memories receding as the bright morning sun hurt his eyes. He knew he’d been standing here a full five minutes. He needed to go inside, visit with the Gordons. They’d be there to greet him, as they greeted everyone who entered this building. They’d be surprised, but polite and professional, as they’d been since the day Jeremy had met both of them.

Back then, Herman had been in charge of circulation and Louise had overseen the classifieds. What a formidable team. Much later, Jeremy and his brothers and sisters had dubbed them “the Gargoyles” because no matter their positions—and they’d both had many—the Gordons were loyal to Hamilton Media. They watched over this building and its occupants with iron-clad awareness. Long ago, they’d spoiled Jeremy with lollipops and chocolate. He imagined even now Louise would give him a wink and a lollipop, her way of solving all the world’s problems.

Jeremy only wished it were that simple.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself. A silent prayer worked its way through the turmoil inside his brain. Once, prayer had come naturally to Jeremy; now it felt foreign and stilted. And yet, it was there.

I need help here, Lord. I need to find my way back, not just into this building, but back into the family I love. I need to forgive, Lord. I don’t know how to ask, but I hope You hear me. I need my life back.

Maybe that life needs to be different now, came the gentle voice.

Jeremy glanced around, sure he looked ridiculous standing there, his mouth open in a gasp.

“You’ll get more work done if you go inside the building.”

He looked up to see Dawn Leroux coming toward him, her arms full of files and papers.

“You think so?” he said, managing a weak smile for the pretty blonde. Dawn had been a guiding light in the midst of all his angst and confusion. His brother was blessed to have her in his life.

She looked very feminine in her crisp white blouse and baby-blue flared skirt. Very different from his brother’s usual girlfriends. But then, Jeremy reminded himself, his brother had changed.

Dawn stopped as she reached the door, her expression full of challenge. “What are you waiting for?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied, glad for an understanding, objective friend. “But while I’m trying to figure that out, I ought to tell you that I’ve been on the job at the church already. The daycare room has one coat of paint—sloppy and spotty—but paint, nonetheless.”

“So I heard,” she said, her smile as gentle as her eyes. “My friend Gabi gives you very high marks.”

“How do you know Gabi?”

He hated the excitement in his voice. He didn’t want to be excited. He didn’t want anyone to see him excited.

“We’ve been friends for years,” Dawn replied, shifting her load, her tone matter-of-fact and low-key. “We’ve gotten even closer since we both volunteer for a lot of the same programs at church.”

He’d never noticed either of them at church, Jeremy thought now. He’d been too caught up in his work, in his life, in his position, to put much thought into who sat behind him in church. Now, he was very curious. So much had changed. He needed to keep pace with all of it.

And he needed to know more about Gabi.

“Give me that,” he said, reaching to take Dawn’s files. In spite of his curiosity, he changed the subject to save grace. “I see my brother has you doing after-hours work.”

“I don’t mind,” she replied, her eyes lighting up. “It’s part of my job, and besides, I kinda know how the boss operates.” Then she grinned. “Tell me more about you and Gabi.”

“Nothing to tell,” Jeremy said, warning bells going off in his head. Could this woman read minds? “She seems like a nice lady.” Explain her to me, he silently begged.

Dawn complied. “The best. She’s been through a rough time lately.”

“She told me she’s a widow. That must be horrible. I mean, she’s still so young.”

Dawn’s eyes lost some of their light. “It’s been hard on her and the girls, but Gabi has a strong faith. Of course, the holidays are always the worst, but she’ll get through Christmas. She always tries to make it special for the girls.”

Jeremy took in that information, then nodded. He wouldn’t press Dawn to give him any more details. That didn’t seem right. “I can see that—I mean, she seems like a great mom.” Then he glanced toward the doors of the building, dread blocking out everything else. “Which is why she doesn’t need someone like me in her life.”

Now why in the world had he even said that? Too late, he saw the spark of interest in Dawn’s eyes. And the spark of hope.

“You might be wrong there,” Dawn retorted, pushing at the door. “You might be exactly what she needs in her life right now.”

With that, she left Jeremy standing there holding the files. But she turned once inside. “You coming in?”

He nodded at her through the revolving doors, still stunned by her remarks. “I guess I am.”

“So, have you made up your mind?”

Jeremy stood looking out the window of his brother Tim’s office, watching the river just beyond the bluffs. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Tim swiveling his chair to face him, his eyebrows raised.

“No, not yet,” he said, turning back to the view.

Jeremy had toured the whole building, visiting with employees and family members alike, talking to each of them about how things were going. The place had kept on running without him, and he still wasn’t so sure that’s the way it should stay—without him. At least, he’d spent the better part of this morning trying to figure out if he even wanted to come back here.

But here he was, in the office at the top of the building. The office he used to occupy. And his brother was probably wondering the same thing. Did Jeremy really belong here? That was the question of the day.

For the last half hour, they’d tried to have a conversation. But as usual, Tim had been interrupted at least three times with one crisis after another. Tim thrived on crises and seemed to be handling all the balls he had to juggle with precision and decisiveness. Including what to do about his older brother’s return.

“Jeremy, are you listening to me?”

Jeremy cringed, thinking he’d once been that man. The one who came just after Wallace Hamilton himself—second in command. The one who asked the questions and got immediate answers. Now, he only commanded curious stares from the lobby to the newsroom and beyond.

Right now, his brother was staring at him, eager and impatient for an answer. “This shouldn’t be that hard.”

“No, it shouldn’t be,” Jeremy agreed, “but I’m not sure what I’m doing here.” He took a seat across from his brother, reluctant to be back in this office without being in the big chair, even if he had doubts about taking over again. “I keep thinking about the first time I came to this building with Da—with Wallace. I can’t seem to get past that.”

“I told you, you can have any position you want,” Tim responded, his tone firm but aggravated. But his eyes held a kind of understanding that was new and fresh. “I’m trying here, Jeremy.”

“I understand that.” Jeremy glanced at the neat, organized desk, itching to get his hands on today’s layout, longing to read over the editorials, to check the feature stories. Tim had everything lined up, ready to go. “I just don’t know what position I need to be in right now, Tim.” He drummed his fingers on the leather-covered arm of his chair. “You seem born to this. I’d hate to just up and take that away.”

The silent message hummed between them. Tim had been born to this. Jeremy had stumbled into it because of a deep, dark secret and his birth order. How could he take up where he’d left off?

“I do like it,” Tim finally admitted. At Jeremy’s questioning look, he added, “Okay, that was probably an understatement. I love it. But there are days—”

“I remember those days,” Jeremy replied, relaxing back into the chair. “I never realized that I probably needed some time off. I just never dreamed I’d be forced out in such a jolting way.”

“Nobody forced you,” Tim reminded him. “You quit.”

Jeremy kept drumming his fingers. No need to relive the vivid details. “So I did.”

Tim leaned back, then pressed his hands behind his head, his fingers entwined. “There is something you could do, Jeremy, for all of us. I could use some help trying to figure out who’s behind all these scandals.”

Jeremy nodded, glad to have something, anything, to focus on. “I’ve gone back and studied all the leaks. It’s obvious someone is deliberately giving juicy tidbits about our family to the Observer. That part is a no-brainer. Whoever it is, they’re very much aware that the Observer is our rival. But what do they hope to gain by all of this?”

“They want to see us fall, or bring us down a peg or two,” Tim replied, bringing his hands back to his desk with a slap. “This all started with you—or, at least, you finding out about your birth father.”

Jeremy tried not to take that comment personally, but it was very personal. “So you think it might be someone close to me, or someone who knows all the inside information that only our family should know?”

Tim shrugged. “That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

It did, but Jeremy rankled at that suggestion. “Yes, but that could apply to any one of us, Tim. It could be someone wanting to get back at Chris, maybe someone he arrested or testified against. Maybe someone wanting to sabotage Nashville Living just to bring down our subscriber base. Maybe it’s someone at the Observer, trying to win points with the boss.”

“All possibilities,” Tim said, his tone guarded. “It might even be someone who works for us, hoping to get a better offer over at the Observer. We all know competition is fierce in this business.” Then he shook his head. “Whoever this is—they want to embarrass our family by leaking personal details. And so far, they’ve succeeded. I still think it has something to do with our parents hiding the truth about your paternity. It’s gone downhill from there.”

Was his brother still trying to pin the blame for all their woes on Jeremy? He pushed that thought aside. “I don’t think all of this is just coincidence, so you might be right. But as far as I know, none of us has any enemies in this town.” Then he let out a sigh. “Unless someone is upset that I know who my birth father is now. Who would have anything to lose or gain from that though? He’s dead and my grandparents live far away. It can’t be that.”

Tim looked as frustrated as Jeremy felt. “Whoever it is has his ear to the ground, that’s for sure. They seem to find out personal things about us before we even know ourselves. I’d sure like to put an end to this, especially since Dad will be coming home soon. He doesn’t need this kind of stress right now.”

Jeremy didn’t respond to that. He was still furious with his father. He wanted Wallace to beat the leukemia, but Jeremy wasn’t ready to get all touchy-feely with Wallace.

“Are you ever going to forgive him?” Tim asked, just as the phone rang. He grabbed the receiver, then said into the phone, “Hold on a minute.” Looking back at Jeremy, he waited with a hand over the phone.

“I’m working on it,” Jeremy said. “And I’m leaving now. You’re way too busy to keep me company.”

“I don’t mind,” Tim said, but he was already waving Jeremy out the door as he gave brisk answers to the person on the other end of the line. “Okay, kill the city council update until we have a confirmation, and go with the proposal for the new factory near the river. And I want details—environmental and economical impact, the works.”

Jeremy emerged from the privacy of his brother’s office to find himself in limbo, standing in the middle of the long hallway just outside Dawn’s office area. Dawn wasn’t at her desk, so chatting with her wasn’t an option.

When did I become so needy for company? he wondered.

Then he heard the elevator swishing open, his mind going toward escape. Hurrying to catch the door, he ran right smack into the person coming out. Instinctively, Jeremy reached his hands up to keep from colliding with the petite woman.

And looked down to find Gabi Valencia in his arms.

“Oh, oh, I’m so sorry,” Gabi said, gazing up into Jeremy Hamilton’s intense blue eyes. She couldn’t move. He held her there, frozen in her tracks. “It’s you again.”

“Me again,” he said, stepping back, his hands dropping to his side, his expression full of surprise and maybe, approval. “I seem to see you everywhere I go these days.”

“It’s a small town,” she said, glancing beyond him as she willed her heartbeat to a calm, workable level. “I’m meeting Dawn for lunch. Have you seen her?”

He looked bemused, then disappointed. “You’re sure in a hurry to get away from me, aren’t you?”

Gabi felt the heat of a blush coloring her skin. “No. I’m just…running a little late.” She waved her hands in the air. “It was crazy at the hospital today.”

“You work at Community General?”

“Yes. In administration. Behind the scenes.”

“That must keep you busy.”

“Yes. And it pays the bills.”

She looked past him again. If Dawn didn’t show up soon, she’d have to get something to eat without her in order to make it back to work on time. She really didn’t need to be standing here making small talk with Jeremy Hamilton, either.

Trying to be polite, she said, “I’m sorry, I’ve got to find Dawn and scoot.”

“Okay.” His skeptical look told her she hadn’t fooled him one bit. “I was just leaving anyway. And I’m not sure where Dawn is right now.”

“Here I am,” came the breathless reply.

Gabi breathed a sigh of relief as she saw Dawn rushing toward them. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Dawn said through a long sigh. “Sorry. Last-minute orders from the Typhoon.”

They both giggled, then Gabi shot a look toward Jeremy.

Dawn shrugged. “Jeremy knows how Tim can be, right, Jeremy?”

Gabi saw a slight smile fighting to break through on Jeremy’s handsome face. “Is my hyper brother causing woe around here?”

“Always,” Dawn replied, taking Gabi by the arm. “Let’s get out of here before he barks something else at me.”

When she grabbed Jeremy with her other arm, both he and Gabi stopped to stare at each other.

“What?” Dawn asked, all coy and innocent. “Jeremy, don’t you need to eat? We’re going over to Betty’s Bake Shoppe. Might as well come with us, since my date is too busy to eat.” She lifted her head toward Tim’s office. “I’ll have to bring him takeout again.” Then she turned to Gabi. “You don’t mind, do you, Gabi?”

What could Gabi say to her friend? Yes, she did mind? Yes, she’d love to have lunch with Jeremy Hamilton? No, she couldn’t possibly have lunch with this man? Well, she couldn’t be rude, could she?

Both Jeremy and Dawn were waiting for her answer. One with a knowing smile, and the other one—well, his perfectly blank expression gave nothing away. But his eyes held a hint of hope. And challenge.

Remembering Dawn’s suggestion that Jeremy could use a friend, Gabi shot him a wan smile, while she poked Dawn in the ribs. “Of course not. It’s just lunch. And we’re wasting precious minutes, standing here.”

Dawn pushed the elevator button. “Good. I’m starving.”

Gabi got in behind Dawn, hoping she’d be able to eat. It might be hard, with a Hamilton man sitting across the table. Jeremy stood there, staring at them.

“Jeremy, are you coming with us?” Dawn asked, grinning.

Jeremy looked directly at Gabi. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Dawn, for once, stayed quiet. But she quirked a brow toward Gabi.

“You’re not intruding,” Gabi finally said, sure she’d regret this later. “Please, join us.”

He stepped into the elevator and silently pushed the button to the lobby, his gaze moving over Dawn’s smiling face before his eyes settled on Gabi. Then he gave her that hesitant little half smile she was beginning to recognize. “Lunch with two lovely women. I think my day just got a whole lot better.”

Chapter Four

Jeremy’s good mood changed the minute they entered Betty’s Bake Shoppe and Bookstore. The crowded dining area went still as everyone in town, it seemed, glanced up and right at him. The silence that followed only added to his humiliation. He wanted to turn around and leave, but one glance at Gabi and he knew he couldn’t do that.

She sent him a challenging look, followed by a soft smile. “You’re a Hamilton, remember? Act like one.”

Surprised at the spunk behind that whispered statement, he actually managed to smile back. “But they all know the truth,” he said through gritted teeth. “Maybe I should just—”

“Don’t you dare,” Dawn said, giving him her own determined look.

Gabi stood on one side and Dawn on the other, closing ranks around him. Dawn leaned close. “The truth is that you will always be Jeremy Hamilton. Are you gonna let the gossips win?”

Jeremy mulled that over, his head coming up, his gaze scanning the crowd. He might be confused and disillusioned, but he’d never been a coward. Nodding, he lifted his head even higher and met the compassionate gaze of Betty Owens herself.

“Jeremy Hamilton,” Betty said, a nervous lilt to her greeting. “C’mon on in here and let me get you something to eat.”

Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. Betty had never been chummy with him, but she’d always been polite at least. “Thanks, Betty. It’s good to see you.”

“Good to have you back.” Betty fidgeted with the menus, her head down. “Y’all can have a table near the window. I’ll send Justine over to take your order in just a jiffy.”

Jeremy had always admired Betty’s work ethic. She was a fixture here at the Bake Shoppe, greeting customers, smiling and comparing good stories with the many book buyers. She also loved to tell juicy stories too, mostly gossip. Betty always knew anything around town before anyone else did. Maybe he should have a long talk with her. She might know who’d been leaking all these scandals to the Observer.

Then a thought occurred to him. Could it be Betty? No, that wasn’t possible. She might like to gossip, but Betty Owens would never deliberately hurt another human being with malicious intent. In fact, she’d always been a bit close-mouthed and standoffish regarding the Hamiltons.

Which made Jeremy even more curious, now that he thought about it. He appreciated her business sense as well as her book smarts. But he’d never figured out why she always seemed so distant and nervous around him, as if she couldn’t open up with him the way she did with most of her customers. Today, she looked tired. Drained was a better word. Maybe she just needed a break. He could certainly understand that concept.

Glancing around after Betty walked away, Jeremy ignored the stares and whispers, concentrating instead on the few friends who took the time to wave and smile at him.

His brother Chris’s partner on the police force, Jason Welsh, called out from the next table. “Jeremy, you old hound dog. Chris said you were home. Good to see you.”

“Thanks, Jason,” Jeremy said, waving a hand. “Where’s my brother today, anyway?”

Jason’s smile lit up his face. “He’s with Felicity. Those two are an item, don’t you know?”

“I do know,” Jeremy replied, happy for his baby brother. His half brother, he reminded himself.

He turned back to find Gabi staring at him, a pleased expression on her pretty face.

“See, it’s not so bad,” she said, her dark eyes watching him with an intensity that almost made him feel even more uncomfortable. Except that he saw no hint of pity in her eyes. More like admiration and pride.

She shrugged it off. “We’ve all been the center of gossip at one time or another.”

“It’s not easy,” he admitted, wondering when in her life she’d been in this kind of situation.

“No one is going to mess with you,” Dawn said, her tone indicating she wouldn’t allow that.

Jeremy sighed, then pretended to read over the menu.

“You two make a formidable team, but I can handle this.” He dropped the menu, his gaze moving over Gabi. “Thank you.”

Gabi sent him a warm, shy smile. “I owe you, remember?”

“You do?”

“Yes. You single-handedly painted the church daycare and nursery, didn’t you?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, and most of the floor and myself, too.”

“You did a great job, Jeremy,” Dawn said, nodding her approval. “But don’t get too comfortable. Your work at church is not done yet.”

He groaned. “Is that why you insisted on bringing me to lunch? So you could bribe me into more hard labor?”

“Maybe,” Dawn said, grinning. “Hmmm. I think I’ll have a chicken salad sandwich. How about you, Gabi?”

Jeremy waited, watching Gabi’s face as she studied the menu. “My usual, probably. A vegetable plate.”

“She thinks she has to watch her weight,” Dawn pointed out to Jeremy.

Jeremy gave Gabi another once-over. Her long dark hair fell around her shoulders in gentle waves. Her blue button-up sweater was a nice contrast to her crisp white blouse. Her clothes were nothing fancy, not like the designer outfits his sisters and his mother wore in various forms and fashions, but she looked dainty and feminine just the same.

“You look fine to me,” he said, then quickly averted his eyes to glance out the window. He hadn’t meant that to slip out.

Gabi looked down at her menu, clearly embarrassed. “My mother is an excellent cook, and I rarely have time to exercise. I have to be careful.”

Dawn shook her head. “You get plenty of exercise, running after those two girls.” Then she waved a hand in the air toward Jeremy. “Oh, you should try Mrs. Marquez’s tamales, Jeremy. They are so good.” Lifting her brow, she turned to Gabi. “Think your mom would feed this poor man?”

Jeremy gave Gabi a mock-pathetic look, just to see if he could make her blush again. “I do love tamales.”

“You’d have to get in line,” Gabi said, very pragmatically. “I have four brothers and a sister. We know the boardinghouse reach very well at my parents’ table.”

“I know that same reach, even if I was only allowed to do that whenever my mother wasn’t looking,” Jeremy said, then he looked down at the table. “Although it’s been a while since I’ve been to a Hamilton family dinner.”

“All the more reason to try dinner somewhere else for a change,” Dawn suggested, shrugging. “You don’t have to mind your manners so much at the Marquez house.”

“We have manners,” Gabi said, grinning. Then she looked from him to Dawn, clearly confused at her friend’s suggestion. “My mother will feed anyone who wants a good meal, though.”

Jeremy laughed again. “Such a nice way of saying c’mon by anytime, right? I think I get the picture. Maybe I’d better stick to my own family dinners, even though they can be a bit stuffy at times.”

Gabi was about to answer when Betty’s daughter, Justine, came over to take their orders. “Hi,” she said, her tone low. “What can I get y’all today?”

Jeremy let the women order first, then said, “I’ll have the Betty Burger, with the works.”

Justine smiled down at him, her eyes holding his for a minute, some unreadable emotion there in their depths. “Glad you’re home, Jeremy.”

Jeremy thanked her, then turned to Gabi and Dawn after Justine walked away. “Is it just me, or are the Owens women acting a bit odd today?”

Gabi shrugged. “You know how Betty likes to gossip. Maybe she’s just trying to keep her thoughts to herself for once. So you won’t feel awkward.”

“Regarding my paternity?” he asked, comfortable enough to be honest with these two at least.

“That and all the other rumors about the Hamiltons,” Dawn replied. “I guess you’ve heard the latest one, right?”

Jeremy glanced around then lowered his voice. “You mean, about my father possibly having an illegitimate child out there somewhere? Yes, I’ve heard and if I get my hands on the person spreading this stuff—”

He looked up to find Justine standing there with a tray full of tea glasses, her eyes centered on him. The look she gave him this time was full of doubt and anxiety.

Jeremy had to wonder if maybe Betty and Justine knew something he didn’t know, after all. But then, that was nothing new around here, he thought with a bitter resolve. He’d promised Tim he’d try to look into this mess. Maybe he should start right here at Betty’s Bake Shoppe.

He waited for Justine to put down their drinks, then glanced over at Gabi. “Maybe coming here was a bad idea.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she said. She leaned close enough for him to get a faint whiff of her exotic perfume. “You have nothing to be ashamed about, Jeremy. Nothing at all.”

Her words held a conviction Jeremy couldn’t feel. “I’m not used to being the center of gossip,” he said. “This has all been very difficult—for my entire family.” He thought of his mother and how she’d held her head high throughout his father’s illness, through all the rumors and embarrassing gossip. Then he thought of Wallace, a shard of piercing guilt hitting his heart. He pushed that guilt away, not ready to examine it just yet. “People don’t stop to think how this is hurting my mother. She’s done nothing to deserve this kind of pain.”

“I know how that feels,” Gabi replied. Then she looked away, her hands fluttering in the air. “I mean, nobody likes to be talked about. Especially when half the people talking don’t know the truth.”

Jeremy didn’t ask her how she knew this. Firsthand experience, maybe? Her words only added to her mystique and allure. He wondered again about that trace of sadness he’d seen now and then in her dark eyes. She was probably still mourning her husband.

He looked over at Dawn, and saw an encouraging expression on her face. Then Dawn said, “Let’s change the subject. Let’s talk about Melissa and Richard’s wedding. Gabi, are you coming?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Gabi said. “I thought it was only for family, considering the circumstances.”

“Yet another family scandal to overcome,” Jeremy retorted.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way,” Gabi quickly replied. “I—I just wouldn’t want to interfere. I’m sorry, Jeremy, but I don’t know your family very well.”

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