Deep Dixie Page 16

  “Yes.” She barely managed to make herself heard. The little girl within her—the daughter who had lost her beloved mother in that one blinding moment—sprang up then and Dixie battled to keep her beneath the surface.

  This wasn’t about that night. This was about everything but that night. And no matter what she felt or thought about the awful incident, it had left its scars on the man before her as well. She could not forget that. “Mr. Summers, I personally hold no one to blame for what happened, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not dredge it all back up again.”

  Fulton nodded.

  Riley shuffled his boots, his hands clasped in front of him, standing as though he were waiting on the fringes of the conversation. Did he expect an invitation to sit? Or was he feeling some need to stay out of the way? She felt his gaze on her profile, but she refused to turn to acknowledge his curiosity. Not about this.

  Instead, she adjusted her strand of pearls, sliding the clasp so that it rested against the back of her neck, and made a quick survey of the room. Matted and framed degrees and certificates hung neatly on the wall behind the desk. Intermixed were newspaper articles that featured Fulton in some way, plaques of recognition from two civic organizations and one marked “Coach of The Year.” There were photographs of Fulton shaking hands with important looking people and one of a group of girls in uniforms grinning from behind a huge soccer trophy. In all they formed a lovely mosaic of the richness of this man’s life. Lettie would be proud...if she only knew.

  Fixed again on the task at hand, Dixie sat up straight and took control of the conversation once more. “You said that you and I had met before, Mr. Summers?”

  “Yes.” He looked down at his desk, thumped his knuckles on the calendar a few times, and then sighed. When he looked up again, he wore the most sincere smile, but it did not chase away the somberness in his compelling eyes. “You were in kindergarten. I remember that because you tried to show me what you were learning in class and, being a seventh grader, the information annoyed rather than impressed me.”

  “Why do I suspect she persisted anyway?”

  At Riley’s comment, Fulton’s smile broadened. “Of course. The whole time I was at her house she tagged along behind me singing the alphabet song—over and over and…” Fulton laughed, just a little then his face grew serious again. “The thing I remember most was how you kept asking me to point to things so you could tell me their color.”

  Dixie did not know if it was the word color or the way Mr. Summers said it that put her on edge.

  “So I tried to find things that were the strangest shades possible, which wasn’t hard to do considering the decorating scheme in your front parlor.”

  “Some things never change.” Riley folded his arms, practically daring her to contradict him.

  “I pointed to an old-fashioned beaded lampshade, some peculiar Chinese figurines, and a piece of modern art that I am at a loss to describe to this day except to say that it sure did have plenty of exotic colors to it.”

  Now Dixie did turn to Riley “Aunt Sis had taken up painting.”

  “Ah.” He must have taken this as his cue to fully join them. He pulled back the chair next to hers then settled himself down in it.

  “You rattled off your answers, pink and puce and royal blue—you knew a name for everything I pointed to.” Fulton pushed his glasses up. “Then I pointed to myself.”

  The air of tension in the room, which had begun to ease only slightly, instantly went so brittle that Dixie thought she heard it crackle like static electricity on a dry, winter day

  “And I will never forget what you said and did then.” He leaned forward, his elbows on the desktop. He laced his long fingers together and put his chin on his hands. “You said brown. And just as quickly I said black right back at you. Brown you insisted, and I was every bit as insistent, if not more so. That went on for quite a while until I pointed to you and told you you were white. And you said ‘No I’m not, I’m tan.’“

  “It sounds like me. I can remember thinking that exact thing, but I still don’t recall our meeting.”

  “I wasn’t at your house more than fifteen or twenty minutes,” Fulton said.

  “Oh, so it was just a brief meeting?”

  “Well, I was there long enough for you to be able to go and get your great big crayon box, whip out the black and white crayon and prove your point to me that we were neither one, but more different tones of the same color that you called brown. I tried to explain that the world did not see things that way, but you had your mind set. You sure were a stubborn thing back then, one who wasn’t much inclined to give up your viewpoint.”

  “Like I said, some things never change.” Riley folded his arms.

  Fulton’s laugh surprised her. The depth and warmth of his spontaneous chuckle put Dixie so in mind of his grandmother’s infectious joy that she laughed, too, pleased to bear the brunt of any joke that broke down these walls, even if just a little bit.

  She raised her finger and struck a pose she knew would do their adolescent concept of her proud. “I am taking that as a compliment, from both of you.”

  “We expected nothing less.” Riley dipped his head to her.

  “So, this one brief visit was the only time you were invited to my house, Mr. Summers?”

  “I was never invited to your house, Miss Fulton-Leigh.”

  Her good humor came up short. “But you said you were there. Your mama, Helen Betty, grew up in that place. I know our mothers were close as kin at one time. I can’t imagine—”

  “My grandmother issued that edict. She had no use for my father from the very start. She knew about his drinking and that he didn’t care for her churchiness. My mother married him anyway, and my grandmother set down the ruling. My father was never to set foot in her home.”

  “Her home?” Riley sat forward.

  “My home is her home, Riley, just as it is for Aunt Sis and Grandpa.” Dixie’s quiet conviction hurried her words out through her tight lips. “Just as it will be for you and Wendy for as long as you need it.”

  “Whatever the reason, it’s clear my grandmother does think of your house as her home and your family as...well, obviously she holds them in high esteem.”

  She didn’t get the impression that Fulton condemned her family for his grandmother’s actions or opinions, but she also sensed that he did not particularly share Miss Lettie’s regard.

  “My issues are not with you, Miss Fulton-Leigh—it is still Miss Fulton-Leigh? Or is it Mrs. Walker?” He looked to Riley, then Dixie.

  “Oh, no, we’re not married.” Riley threw both hands up as if ready to physically repel the idea. “We’re—”

  “Mr. Walker here is the new primary shareholder and CEO of the trucking division. He bought the controlling interest from my grandfather after my father died a few weeks ago.”

  “I hadn’t heard. I don’t get much word from Fulton’s Dominion anymore. I, uh, I am, of course, very sorry for your loss. Very sorry.”

  She believed he meant it. Whatever he felt toward her family, Fulton Summers seemed a kind and decent man. She saw on the wall and in the awards sitting in his bookshelves evidence of education, hard work, dedication, and charity. This was, without a doubt, just the sort of man she needed to help her and Riley untangle themselves from Greenhow. Just the kind of man Riley could use on his side in Wendy’s adoption case.

  Dixie had to make the connection now for her and Riley’s sake, as much as for Lettie’s. “Mr. Summers, we really need—”

  “Pardon me for interrupting, but it seems pointless to let you go on.” He held one hand up. “As I’ve said, my issues are not with you, but I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time by coming here. I only wish you had made your intentions clear when you called me. I could have saved us both the trouble.”

  “If I had told you who I was, would you have seen us?”

  “Would I have devoted time I might have spent counseling a genuine client about a real legal ma
tter talking to you about lost causes?” He shook his head. “What do you think?”

  “I think you haven’t heard us out.” Riley leaned back in his chair, as though hunkering in for the long haul.

  “I’ve heard all I need to.” Fulton stood.

  “Then at least do us the courtesy of recommending another lawyer.” She knew that would command his attention.

  “What for?” His eyes narrowed behind the thin, oval frames. “You want to hire one to play the part of me for my grandmother?”

  “We need legal counsel,” Dixie held her seat.

  “When you say we...?”

  “My whole family and all our business concerns.”

  He sat down again.

  “As well as a personal matter.” Riley’s face went positively grim. “Do you have experience with adoption?”

  “Wait. Stop right there.” Fulton put his head in his hands, his voice strained when he finally spoke again. “I don’t get this. What are you saying to me?”

  “We’re saying we came here today on a dual mission, to find Lettie’s grandson and a new lawyer. I know it’s terribly simplistic of me, but I was hoping that we might find them in the same person. If it’s the kind of law that interests you.”

  He blew out a long blast of air, rubbed his knuckle over his chin then adjusted his glasses. “Adoption? No problem, I’ve done my share, even foreign adoption and some fairly tricky ones.”

  “Great.” Riley clapped his hands together. Under other circumstances, Dixie thought he might have actually shouted hallelujah! to the heavens.

  “Family legal matters, the same. No problem, if the family has no problem with me doing the work.”

  “If they do, they’d have me to answer to, Mr. Summers, and that includes ornery old Miss Lettie.”

  “This I would sell tickets to.” Riley gestured broadly, his good mood uncontained.

  Fulton laughed that wonderful laugh of his. “But I do have some concerns about the business. I’m not a corporate lawyer.”

  “Neither was anyone at Greenhow, Greenhow, Byson, and Pryor. It’s routine stuff, Mr. Summers, contracts and negotiations on a business that’s run almost unchanged for thirty years. And nothing is pressing right now except tidying up as we extricate ourselves from our previous lawyer. So you’d have time to familiarize yourself with our needs and find out for yourself if you think you want to take it on or want to simply stay with the family side of things.”

  “You’d let me do that?”

  She’d walk through fire for this man’s grandmother. Now, having met him, she would do whatever she could to mend the rift between the two of them. “Yes. I would. Is that awfully frivolous? Choosing a lawyer based on a tenuous family tie like this?”

  “A lot of my clients chose me because my name came up top of the page in a web search, others because my office is close by, some because I go to their church, coach their kid’s soccer team, or because someone they know recommended me.” He shrugged. “How did you choose your last lawyer?”

  “My dad went with old Mr. Greenhow because they were Boy Scouts together.”

  “Ahh. The boyhood connection, I’d forgotten that one.” For the first time in this meeting mirth lit his dark eyes.

  “Beats the way I got my last lawyer.” Riley crossed his stretched-out legs at the ankle. “Met her when someone set us up on a blind date.”

  “There’s a story there, no doubt.” Fulton’s chair gave a tight little squeak as he moved in it.

  “No doubt.” Dixie stared at Riley.

  “I’d love to tell you all about it, Mr. Summers. And I will if you’d let me do it over a nice, hot meal.” He hooked one thumb under the waistband of his jeans. “What do you say? Lot of business is done over lunch. It’d give us more time to talk, answer each other’s questions.”

  Riley looked over at Dixie and gave her a wink.

  She pretended not to notice. She was suddenly very much aware of how little she knew about Riley Walker.

  “I suppose a lunch would give me more time to consider.” Fulton’s voice pulled Dixie back to the topic at hand. “If you’re sure it wouldn’t be awkward for you, Miss Fulton-Leigh.”

  “Awkward?” She shook her head. “Not at all. In fact, I’d welcome the chance to spend more time with you.”

  “What she’s saying is that she’s not done with you yet, Mr. Summers.” Riley put his feet flat, as if ready to stand.

  “Not done with me?”

  “She’s had a few years since your last run-in with her to perfect that stubborn, determined side of her sweet, genteel nature. So far you haven’t given in and said you’d go pay a call on our beguiling Miss Lettie, or officially said you’d come on board as our legal counsel.” This time Riley did stand. He looked down at Dixie, then over to Fulton, then at her again. He held his hand out to help her from her chair. “It ain’t likely that Miss Dixie Belle Fulton-Leigh is going to let you out of her sight until she has an answer.”

  She gave him a glower that her smile probably completely undermined, rose from her chair on her own, then turned to Fulton. “Much as I hate to admit it, Mr. Summers, he is right. I’ll keep after you for that answer, even if I have to resort to following you around town singing “The Alphabet Song” until you cave in.”

  * * *

  “On the one hand, I guess I could be offended that you are, in essence, throwing me a bone because of some genetic link rather than on my own merits.” Fulton lifted the basket of bread the waitress had just left and flipped back the napkin on top to offer Dixie first choice. “On the other hand, and you could not possibly know this, you are throwing me a lifeline that I don’t see how I can refuse.”

  “Then don’t.” Dixie plucked a golden corn muffin from the basket and held it up like Eve proffering the apple, only without the sinful undertones.

  Riley chuckled under his breath and shook his head. That was his Dixie—

  His eyes widened. His Dixie? Where had that come from?

  He fit his palm around his cold, smooth glass of water and mulled the question over. He’d promised himself on the drive over not to think of her that way and yet here they were, a few hours later, and she was his Dixie. At least for one unguarded moment in his mind.

  Slowly, he lifted the glass. The story about meeting Carol had done it. The way that absolutely innocent tale had seemed to prick at Dixie’s disposition had encouraged him to indulge in plain old masculine pride that she might, just maybe, care about who he had dated and the details of his love life. He chugged the water down, the chunks of ice gouging his throat as he swallowed hard, then harder.

  His gaze fixed on Dixie. The delicate way she put the muffin to her lips made him think of the kiss they’d almost shared, made him wish...

  “Care to help yourself, Mr. Walker?”

  He gurgled, sputtered, coughed then coughed again. Cool, Walker, very cool. Why not just start drooling and walking into walls around her, really cap off the suave act? He turned to Fulton, his hand up. “No, thank you. I seem to have enough trouble with plain water. Adding bread might do me in.”

  “Okay, then.” Summers helped himself to a roll and set the basket aside.

  Turning down the offer of the bread did leave Riley at a disadvantage for what to do with his hands. He put the glass down, then picked it up again, chose not to risk another near- choking incident and set the thing down with a definite clunk.

  Riley edged his chair close to the linen-covered table. “You said we had no way of knowing it, but we were throwing you a lifeline that you didn’t see how you could refuse.”

  “Yes.” Summers put the bread down. “I guess I did.” He looked away.

  Riley saw a flash of anxiety shoot through Dixie’s eyes, then cool into concern as she watched Fulton take a deep breath and appear to compose himself to explain his comment.

  “If you’d rather not get into this over the lunch table—” Riley offered an out for everyone’s sake.

  “No. No, it’s n
ot that, I just want to say it right, do it justice.” Hands folded on the table, he sat straight-backed. “The barefaced truth of the matter is that I need the income the work you’re proposing would bring in. I need the immediate money your adoption case will provide, Mr. Walker, and the steady income of ongoing work for your business and family, Miss Fulton-Leigh. And I need the work. I need to immerse myself in my life’s vocation again, be productive, know that I’m making a difference for others, to start to live again...if you will.”

  “I don’t understand.” There was hesitance in Dixie’s voice.

  Riley felt the same thing, he just didn’t say so. He didn’t know what to say. Twenty minutes ago in this man’s office, he believed he had found the person who could help him make Wendy legally what she had always been in Riley’s heart—his little girl. Riley’s heart now thudded hard and heavy with apprehension.

  Fulton’s mouth twitched. He bowed his head.

  The waitress started to approach with a water pitcher but Riley waved her away.

  “I’m sorry.” Fulton’s earlier cultured and commanding tone was now so quiet Riley could barely hear the man. “It’s just that it’s been so recent, for me. Everyone else tells me it’s been long enough. Time to get on with my life.”

  Mercenary as it might seem, Riley found himself practicing ways to wiggle out of using Summers on Wendy’s case. How could he risk his child’s future with someone in an emotionally fragile state?

  “But people don’t know how fresh my wife’s passing still feels to me.” Fulton picked up his glass of iced tea then set it down again. He touched the overturned coffee cup, the flatware then wiped his hand on his napkin even though he hadn’t had any food at all yet. Finally, he looked at Dixie. “Even after a year I still miss her every day. Maybe more now so because the first year I kept thinking, this is how it feels to miss Regina on Christmas.’ ‘This is how it feels to miss Regina on her birthday.’ Now, I find myself saying, ‘This is how it feels to miss Regina...forever.’“

  “I am so, so sorry” Dixie put her hand on Fulton’s dark blue jacket sleeve.