The Hamilton Heir by Valerie Hansen Page B

article, will you? I’m already starting to be sorry I agreed to try.”
    “You’re friendly with Felicity, aren’t you? Ask forher help. Just let her think you’re working on a piece for a historical newsletter or something like that so she doesn’t blab to Bradshaw before we’re ready.”
    Dawn scowled at him. “Lie?”
    “Well, no, not exactly. Just withhold the truth.”
    “That’s the same thing as telling an outright lie.”
    “Who says?”
    “The Bible.” She studied his handsome face for some sign he recognized the biblical principle. If he did, it didn’t register in his expression. “It warns against bearing false witness, for one thing. Besides the Ten Commandments, I think that’s found in the thirteenth chapter of Romans.”
    “My mother and sisters handle all that religious stuff,” Tim said. “I don’t have time to fool with it.”
    “I’m sure I’ve seen your brother Chris at our Northside Community Church services, too. Recently, he’s been coming with Felicity.”
    “I suppose he may go to church on the days he’s off duty. Look, you can tell her as much as you feel you need to in order to get her help. Just caution her to keep it quiet, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    Dawn accepted a belated coffee refill from Justine but Tim waved her off, tossed down money for the tip and left the table.
    Watching him stride purposefully toward the exit, Dawn was struck by how terribly alone he must feel. His father, Wallace, who had been in charge of the Hamilton Media dynasty, was still ailing and might die from complications of thetreatment meant to cure him. Nora, Tim’s mother, spent most of her time and energy at her husband’s side. Jeremy, Tim’s eldest brother, had left town after what had been reported by office gossips as a terrible family quarrel, and his baby sister had run off with her no-good boyfriend at a time when it looked like the Hamilton family was coming apart at the seams, which it apparently was, if Tim’s attitude was any indication.
    Setting Tim even further away from the others, his siblings were apparently connected, heart and soul, to a faith he openly rejected. Poor guy. If ever there was a man who had earned the title of “Loner,” it was Tim Hamilton.
     
    Justine returned to the coffeemakers, ostensibly to refill her glass pot, and confronted Betty. “Okay, Mom. He’s gone. You can come out and go back to work now.”
    “I am working.” She pushed back a stray wisp of graying hair and turned to rinse her plump hands in the sink.
    “You know what I mean,” Justine countered. “What’s gotten into you?”
    “Nothing. I just had things to do over here.”
    Justine blew a quiet raspberry her mother’s way. “Phooey. You’ve been getting weirder every day, especially lately. You can’t expect me to keep waiting on every Hamilton who comes in here all by myself. Sooner or later, someone will notice how you’ve been avoiding them.”
    “I don’t avoid them. Not exactly. I just prefer to have someone else take their orders.”
    “Like me?” Justine’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “If it bothers you, think how I must feel. Have Wendy do it if you don’t want to. Just give me a break, okay?”
    Betty looked surprised at her eldest daughter’s outburst. “Your sister’s busy in the kitchen.”
    Justine stood firm, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t care. After what you told me about you and Wallace, how do you expect me to behave naturally around any of them? Huh? We work ourselves practically to death keeping this place running while guys like Tim Hamilton sit up in their fancy offices across the street and look down on folks like us, literally and figuratively.”
    “They do not!”
    “Oh, yeah?” Upset, Justine failed to lower her voice when she said, “Wallace sure looked down on you. ”
    “Justine! Hush! Someone will hear.”
    “Maybe it’s time somebody did so we can quit pretending,” the tall, slim, thirty-year-old said.