Part 18 (2/2)
But then he'd always had an affinity for children. Even at twenty-seven when he'd married Samantha and taken on the role of father to the eleven-year-old Meredith and nine-year-old Hunter, he'd had a gentle patience with them that exceeded Samantha's.
He smiled as she and Natalie settled on his other side and he became more animated, acting out the parts of the lost fruit bat and the baby birds as he read. The curtness with which he'd been addressing Samantha since they'd discussed Hunter's latest financial debacle had disappeared.
As she listened to the rise and fall of his voice, Samantha felt a keen pinch of regret that she'd never been able to give him the children they'd both wanted. He'd never thrown her infertility up at her or used it against her in any way. But he hadn't supported Samantha's desire to adopt. He'd caved to his mother's horrified objections at the idea of someone without Davis blood carrying the Davis name, even as she'd complained over the lack of an heir to carry it on.
A rueful smile tugged at her lips. If this were Downton Abbey, Hunter would undoubtedly be arguing in favor of an ”entail” and angling to land the part of Matthew Crawley.
It was after nine, and both girls crumpled in sleep on either side of Jonathan when a quiet knock sounded on the front door. The flickering light from the television cast light and shadows over their sleeping faces.
”I'll get it,” she whispered as she eased off the sofa and gently repositioned Natalie's now-heavy limbs.
Brooke was already apologizing when Samantha opened the door. ”I'm so sorry,” she said as she stepped inside. ”I finally heard back from Zachary at eight thirty. He and Sarah drove up to Highlands to play golf with friends and to see the foliage and were invited to stay for dinner.” She drew a deep breath of outrage, her body practically vibrating with anger. ”I just can't believe he did this to them. Or me.” She grimaced. ”I'm so sorry we intruded on your evening.”
”It's all right,” Samantha said. ”Really. They were a pleasure.”
”Oh, I'll bet your husband just loved the whole thing.” This was accompanied by an eye roll.
”You'd be surprised,” Samantha said. In many ways the girls' presence had smoothed out the rough edges of their disagreement. It was hard to be angry or distant with such sweet neediness right there in front of you. ”How did the shopping trip go?”
”I know Marissa enjoyed it. I got her completely outfitted, including some winter things and this adorable red winter coat.” She dropped her eyes. ”And I think Bruce was happy with how happy Marissa was.”
”And you?” Samantha asked noting the way Brooke flushed every time Bruce Dalton's name was mentioned.
”Well, it would have been great if I hadn't been so worried about where Zachary was and why he hadn't even called. And then I kept picturing the girls here driving you both crazy. I'm sure the last thing you expected to do tonight was babysit.” She said this as if it were akin to being flayed alive.
”Like I said, it was no problem.” Samantha led Brooke through the kitchen and into the family room. From there they could see the back of Jonathan's head. It looked as if he sat alone on the couch. ”We like children.”
Brooke came to a halt as they rounded the sofa. Her mouth dropped open as she caught sight of her daughters on either side of Jonathan, collapsed against him like little redheaded bookends. The book he'd been reading lay open-faced across one muscled thigh. Jonathan winked at Brooke in welcome and laid a warning finger against his lips. ”Let's not wake them up if we can help it,” he said softly. ”I like Stellaluna as much as the next man. But after the first time through it's kind of hard to get the bat and bird voices right.”
When Brooke and the children had gone, Samantha locked the front door and turned out the foyer light. Not waiting for an invitation, she settled next to Jonathan on the sofa.
”Thanks,” she said. ”You're a good man, Jonathan Davis.” She laid her head on his shoulder and rested her hand on his thigh. ”And you read a mean Stellaluna.” His thigh tensed beneath her hand, and she was afraid for a moment that he would shrug away from her. But she felt him expel a breath of air as his arm slipped around her. He pulled her tighter against him.
”We aim to please,” he said quietly, and she thought she heard an uncomfortable note of irony. But then he s.h.i.+fted and pressed her back into the cus.h.i.+ons. When his lips found hers and he began to undress her, she almost convinced herself that she had imagined it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.
EDWARD ARRIVED AT THE ALEXANDER ON Thursday morning to find Hunter Jackson in the lobby flirting with a clearly enamored Isabella. Edward looked the young man over and could find no fault with his sharply creased gray pants and blue blazer, which he'd paired with a crisp white collared s.h.i.+rt and red tie. His demeanor when he spotted Edward fell shorter of the mark. Rather than ”snap to,” he gave Isabella a last overly familiar wink, straightened quite slowly, then sauntered toward Edward.
”Good morning.” Jackson's tone was friendly enough, but the bob of the head was regrettably casual for someone reporting for his first day on a brand-new job.
”Good morning,” Edward said smartly, hopefully demonstrating the importance of one's demeanor. ”Shall we?” He motioned his head toward his office and kept walking, expecting Hunter Jackson to follow.
Edward did not remove his jacket but motioned Hunter into the supplicant's seat before taking his own behind his desk. ”I appreciate your punctuality,” he said without preamble. ”My plan is to expose you to the different levels of service we provide our clients. I have chosen a number of tasks for you to perform that should help ill.u.s.trate this range.”
”Yes, well, I have some ideas for raising Private Butler's profile. I've also made a list of potential corporate clients I can approach.” Jackson's words were businesslike and well thought out, but he was slouching in his chair as if has.h.i.+ng something out with a colleague. Only the telltale leg movement gave away his nervousness and/or irritation. Edward wasn't certain which.
Edward folded his hands on his desk as his uncle Mason often did before imparting an important point of clarification. ”Good. We'll take a look at that together after you've had some time to get acclimated to our services and company philosophy.”
”I'm sorry?” Jackson said, looking genuinely confused.
”You won't be calling on people until you have a clear understanding of the services we offer and the manner in which all employees of Private Butler conduct themselves. I'll also want to make sure you completely grasp the underlying philosophy on which the company is based,” Edward explained.
”Really?”
”Yes,” Edward replied. ”Really.”
They stared at each other for several long moments. Long enough for Edward to note the flare of anger and astonishment that sharpened Jackson's features and see him hide the reaction in the depths of the green eyes. Jackson looked away first. ”But isn't that a waste of my connections and experience?”
”For the moment it may seem that way,” Edward conceded. ”But it's hard for even the most accomplished salesperson to sell or market something he doesn't fully understand.”
”With all due respect,” Jackson said. ”Your business isn't all that complicated.”
As usual, any sentence that began with ”with all due respect” included almost no respect at all. Edward shrugged off his irritation and kept his tone pleasant. Just as Hunter Jackson needed to learn to do.
”I promise you there are things to be learned. Important things.”
”I'm all ears, then.”
”Very well,” Edward said, even though Jackson seemed more insolence than ears. ”This is how we shall begin. For the next week you'll take on small tasks for a variety of our clients. No matter how small the task, it will be treated as if it were of the utmost importance, because to us, to this company, it is.
”We are time-savers. Convenience givers. We make our customers feel good about spending money for others to do what they could, in fact, do for themselves if they had the time or the inclination.” He paused to allow the message to sink in. ”We make people's lives easier. Period. There's nothing we won't do-as long as it's legal and ethical.”
He paused again both for emphasis and because he wanted to make sure Jackson heard what came next.
”This morning you'll handle these requests for two of our long-term clients. After lunch you will explore these travel-related issues for Emily Redding.” He handed Hunter Jackson a typed form with the pertinent names and addresses.
”You actually expect me to pick up and deliver someone's dry cleaning?” Jackson asked.
”Yes, of course.”
”And take a package to the UPS Store?”
”You'll also be hiring a cleaning company for the Ritchies. There's a potential list attached. And picking up Grace Anthony's dog from the groomer's.
”But these are errands.” The horror in Jackson's voice indicated that this was a veritable crime against nature.
”Yes.” Edward maintained eye contact. ”And quite menial ones at that. For which we are paid.” He watched Jackson process this shocking turn of events. ”If you handle these a.s.signments without any trouble, tomorrow you'll keep an appointment with James Culp to select a gift for his wife Alicia's sixtieth birthday. I have a questionnaire I often use to elicit enough information about the recipient to make it truly special.”
”You're kidding.”
”No.” He had in fact been planning to give this a.s.signment to Brooke Mackenzie, who wouldn't need a form or prompting of any kind, but the point here was to teach Hunter Jackson the scope of what Private Butler offered from the seemingly insignificant to the mundane to the life changer. To make him understand that no request from a client was more important than another. And perhaps to make him stop and think about what it meant to give thought to another human being's needs or wants above his own, which Edward suspected would be the hardest lesson of all.
<script>