A Sweetheart for the Single Dad. Victoria Pade
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to see if maybe food stamps would help ease some of the burden. What you heard today could have been a clue to a much bigger problem than Gramma not getting her sugar fix.”
“Oh,” Lindie said, knowing that once again she should have proceeded with some caution.
“It’s better if you don’t just rush in,” he said as if he’d heard her thoughts. “The social worker here is great. She’s amazingly diplomatic and she knows how to approach these things so nobody ends up feeling like their toes have been stepped on, or like their kids have aired dirty laundry. They can get the help they need and keep their pride intact.”
Lindie flinched. “You think I offended Gramma?”
“Again, I know these girls and I’ve met Gramma and she’s a really nice, down-to-earth, levelheaded lady, so I know this isn’t going to cause problems at home and she’ll probably just eat the candy. And I already talked to Marie, told her it might be good to have the social worker do an interview to see if Gramma needs some help with the expenses of four kids added to her budget. But from here on—”
“I’ll watch myself,” Lindie swore, thinking that this was the second time today she’d had to make that vow when it came to this place.
Sawyer accepted it easier than her grandmother had, though, because he seemed to relax his posture, stretching both arms along the top of the bench and looking at her as if he was getting his first glance of the day.
Then, in a more conversational vein, he said, “So, what is it you do for the family business if you aren’t their assassin—which, by the way, I’m still not quite convinced of since you’re hanging around. You aren’t just hoping for the chance to make toast of me tonight, after all, are you?”
“Is that why I wasn’t assigned the rec room? You fear for your life?” she countered.
His expression showed some confusion. “I don’t have anything to do with where volunteers are sent for the day.”
So, possibly, it hadn’t been a conspiracy?
He wasn’t trying to get away from her now—or even trying to persuade her to leave. Instead he was chatting with her. Lindie decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and drop her suspicions.
“I have a degree in communications.” She answered his question simply. “So I oversee our public relations. And sometimes, if it’s absolutely necessary for someone in the family to speak out, I’m our spokesperson.”
“How come I haven’t seen you before this, then? Because believe me, I would have remembered.”
The appreciation in the way he was looking at her convinced her that was true. But she tried not to take it to heart. “I’ve been our spokesperson several times in my eight years on the job but it’s always been to announce positive things, so they probably didn’t interest you enough to pay attention.”
He was paying attention to her now, though. Close attention. “I know Camden Inc. is family owned and operated,” he said. “So how does that work? What’s the hierarchy? Who’s the boss?”
“The titles are really just formalities. Camden Inc. was left to H.J.’s ten great-grandchildren. The way he set it up, we run it—we’re the board of directors—and we each have one vote in everything so no one carries more clout than anyone else.”
“And that works?” Sawyer asked skeptically.
“It does for us. To be honest, it’s the way we were brought up. Our grandmother—we call her GiGi—raised us after the plane crash that killed our grandfather and all of our parents. Ten kids is a lot to handle. But for it not to be constant war, we were taught a lot about cooperating with each other, about solving the problems and disagreements we had. I guess we learned really well how to get along and that crossed over into business.”
“And was Howard or Mitchum your father?”
That could have been a loaded question given the history between his father and Howard, so Lindie was glad to say “Mitchum was my dad. There are six of us. I’m a triplet and we’re the youngest. Along with our cousin Jani, who’s our same age.”
“You’re a triplet?”
“With my sister Livi and our brother Lang.”
“So Howard had—”
“Four kids. My cousins,” she said a bit defensively in case he was going to say anything against them or their father. Then to redirect the conversation, she took a different tack. “Even though there are so many of us, though, we’re easy to work with. Don’t worry that it would be complicated to take us on as a client.”
“Not going to happen,” he reminded her, though he seemed amused.
“I’m just saying that you’re welcome to talk to any vendor, any outsourcing, anyone we deal with, because you won’t hear complaints that they don’t know who they’re answering to or are ever pulled in different directions by us. We’re one solid unit, decisions are majority rule, and we all know how to cope with being on the losing side of a vote.”
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