A Season of Miracles. Heather Graham
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ridiculous. I’ve been engaged for—”
“Oh, yeah. You and Gary Brennan have been engaged for what—five years? You won’t give the poor fellow a wedding date. He might want you to go by Mrs. Brennan. Horrors,” Griff said with a shudder. “Would you give up the family name, Eileen? Even for love?”
“Many businesswomen keep their maiden names, Griff,” Eileen said icily. “I adore Gary—we just haven’t had time to plan a wedding.”
“No time in five years. Imagine that,” Griff said with mock solemnity.
“I told you—I adore him,” Eileen said sharply.
“I’m sure you do. But you’d throw the poor boy to the sharks in two seconds if he were any threat to your position at Llewellyn Enterprises,” Griff teased.
“There is no threat to me—I actually work,” Eileen snapped back, eyes narrowed.
“Touché,” Griff told her.
Theo let out an impatient sound. “I hope to God we’re not being overheard. We sound exactly like a pack of squabbling children, and we’re supposed to be running a major company. We all work here, and we work hard.” His eyes fell on his brother, and he shrugged. “All right, most of us work hard. But to suggest that there was an underlying reason for bringing in Marston, to even think that anything should go on is…”
“Is what?” Griff demanded
“Sick,” Theo announced. “And the old boy is in perfect health. To begin to imagine that anything is going on is—”
“Theo,” Griff interrupted, “your lack of curiosity is positively boring. Don’t you think it’s just a little bit strange? I mean, we’ve been dividing the executive duties here since we got out of college.”
“You’ve had executive duties, Griff?” Eileen asked.
“You’re not being very nice,” Griff said.
“I am nice,” she snapped back, a trace of hurt in her tone. Griff heard it, she knew. He always saw the smallest sign of weakness in those around him. “I am nice. I’m simply efficient. When people are ‘artistic,’ they don’t have to be quite so efficient.”
Theo came around behind her, speaking softy. “Artistic? Like cousin Jillian?”
“Theo, I love Jillian dearly. We have a bond. Just like you boys have the bond of brotherhood.”
“We’re all Llewellyns,” Theo said flatly.
“And you’re just as nice as can be,” Griff told Eileen, grinning.
“God himself is going to come down and slap you right across your silly face one day,” Eileen told him.
“Did I just say she’s nice?” Griff asked Theo.
“Griff, some of us do have work to do.”
“I know. That’s the point. I’m getting scared. I may have to actually start working around here, now that Marston has suddenly been called in. The old man has been watching Jillian grieve all this time. She’s been widowed a year now,” Griff said. He looked at the other two. “Almost a year. The traditional mourning time is coming to an end.”
“The old man has figured out that there’s more work than all of us can handle, and he’s brought in a crack management and numbers man who happens to be an old school friend of mine. That’s all there is to it. And I’ve got things to do,” Theo said impatiently. “Eileen, this image here is the one I want to go with. When I meet with our major accounts, I’ll be letting them know that a Llewellyn will actually be displaying our jewelry in our next ad campaign. Get busy with it. See what kind of guest shots we can get on the talk circuit. You can use the family name when you’re trying to land guest spots on radio or television. It may be a bit crass to try to cash in on our good works, but God knows, we give enough to charity at Christmas.”
“We like to get our tax breaks in before New Year’s,” Griff muttered.
“If we didn’t make a fortune, we wouldn’t be able to give away big bucks,” Theo snapped. “Get on with it, both of you.”
He walked out of the room.
Griff grinned at Eileen. “Get on with it, huh?”
“Get out of here, Griff.”
He left, and Eileen sat down, drumming her beautifully manicured nails on her desk. How dare they accuse her of jealousy? She loved Jillian, who was the closest thing to a sister she had. She made a face and mimicked Theo’s tone. “Get on with it. I’m not a servant, Theo. Get on with it?”
She was silent for a minute, then she said softly, “Oh, I’ll be getting on with it, all right.”
She picked up a cookie with pumpkin-orange icing and little black chocolate-drop eyes. She took a bite—a savage bite—glad she made the cute little cookie snap.
Then she set the cookie down, stared at the tea service.
“Oh, yeah. I’ll get on with it, all right.”
Jillian swept past Daniel’s secretary with a quick smile and knocked on his door.
“Yes?” he said sharply from behind the wood.
“It’s Jillian.”
“Get in here.”
She froze for a moment, disturbed by his tone. Then she gritted her teeth and walked in, closing the door behind her. He was behind his desk, writing, and he didn’t look up. She stood before his desk, feeling like an errant school child. Then she grew angry and impatient.
“Daniel, you asked to see me,” she reminded him.
He looked up at last, staring at her as he recapped his pen. “Yes, quite some time ago,” he told her.
Like his brothers, Daniel was an attractive man. He liked clothing and appearances, and dressed well. His eyes were a deep brown, a true deep brown that could appear black. His gaze was always fathomless. Many times, when she’d been young, Daniel had been her protector. Ten years her senior, he had often taken her to and from school. In those days, he had been like a big wolf between her and any danger—be it real or imagined. She had loved him deeply; he had been her favorite relative.
But that had been a long time ago.
In the past several years, with her grandfather handing out more and more responsibility, things had changed.
Daniel had held the reins of power for a long time.
The fact that she was a direct descendant seemed to be raising a barrier between them—though he didn’t seem to show the same reserve to Eileen. Maybe it was all in Jillian’s mind. And maybe she had been so involved with the details of her work—and the death of her husband—that she had built her own walls between them.
“Sorry,” she said briefly. She decided not to mention the fact that Griff had forgotten to tell her that she was supposed to come here. “Really.”
“I thought you were trying to get out of here today?”
“I am. But I gave Connie the day off—” She broke off at his frown. “Daniel, she never misses work. She had some things to finish for the kids.”
“And the two of you are off together this afternoon. I’m not so sure it’s a good thing to have your best friend as your assistant,” he told her.
“Daniel, we don’t miss a beat as far as work is concerned. You know that. Joe works for you, and he’s a great employee.”
“Sit down,” he told her, indicating one of the chairs in front of his desk.
She sighed and did so. He heard her sigh, and looked at her sharply. “Daniel, no one puts more time into this company than