The Hamilton Heir. Valerie Hansen

in. “I work for Mr. Hamilton, Miss Ada. I’m his administrative assistant.”

      “His what?”

      “Secretary,” Dawn said flatly. Determined to change the subject she asked, “So, how are all your grandchildren?”

      “Oh, they’re wonderful. Sissy’s about to graduate and Bubba’s got his first girlfriend. The little ones are cute as ever.”

      Dawn was relieved to see Ada bustle over to an end table and produce a packet of snapshots which she proceeded to display for Tim, one at a time, along with a running commentary.

      He glanced at Dawn over the elderly woman’s mop of poodlelike curls. There was a plea for rescue in his gaze.

      “We really should be going,” Dawn said. “We have one more stop.”

      Ada looked up. “I’m not the last one?”

      “Not anymore. Remember? We added that nice young family, Jordan and Allison Martin.”

      “Right. The folks with the baby. I forgot. How’s the daddy doin’? Think he’ll be able to go back to work soon?”

      “We hope so,” Dawn said. “Since he’s a carpenter, I’m not sure. It’s not like he can sit behind a desk all day the way I do.”

      “Pity,” Ada said. She slipped the wad of photos back into the envelope. “Well, at least have some of my homemade cookies before you go. I baked extra for when the grandkids come by.”

      Dawn gave Tim a look that was more warning than anything else as she said, “No, no. You should save them for the children.”

      “Nonsense. There’s plenty. You two just stay put for a second and I’ll get you a taste. I can always spare a few.” She was leaving the room. “Be right back!”

      Tim closed the distance between Dawn and himself before he asked softly, “Why not take a cookie? What would it hurt?”

      “Depends,” Dawn said with a lopsided grin. “If she remembered to put the sugar in this time, it won’t hurt a bit. If she got it mixed up with the salt like she did the last time, that’s another story.”

      Ada returned before Tim could comment. She held out a plastic bag containing four puffy discs of dough that resembled lumpy oatmeal. “I packed ’em up so you could take ’em along.”

      “Thank you, Miss Ada,” Tim said, graciously accepting the gift. “We’ll enjoy them while we drive. I’m pleased to have met you.”

      The elderly woman eyed Dawn. “He’s got manners, too, bless his heart.”

      “That, he does.” Dawn was already on her way to the door. “Good night, Miss Ada.”

      “Night, children,” Ada said. “Y’all be good, y’ hear.” She tittered. “But not too good. Life’s too short to pass up the chances the Good Lord gives us. Take it from me. If I had it all to do over again…”

      Dawn had reached the door, pushed it open and flung herself through. Tim was following too slowly to suit her so she grabbed his shirtsleeve and tugged him along, not letting go till they were at the car.

      “I take it she’s a widow,” Tim said.

      “Yes. Has been for ages. If anyone should be out looking for companionship, it’s Ada Smith.”

      Tim chuckled. “Something tells me it would take a very special man to satisfy her. Someone hard of hearing, maybe?”

      That made Dawn laugh. “And tolerant. And definitely someone who loves her grandchildren, which is a pretty tall order.” She climbed into the car unaided and was fastening her seat belt when Tim slid into the driver’s seat.

      “She was right about one thing.” His hands were on the wheel, his eyes staring straight ahead.

      “Oh?”

      “Yeah,” Tim said quietly. “You really do have pretty hair.”