A Dream To Share. Irene Hannon

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СКАЧАТЬ by Campbell Publishing. And intuition told her that Campbell Publishing would choose to proceed, as well.

      When she reached her office, Abby sank into her worn leather chair and propped her elbows on the scarred surface of the desk that had belonged to her great-grandfather and which had been used by every editor since. She could no longer pretend that the threat of an acquisition was only a bad dream. She needed to face this. Sticking her head in the sand was a cop-out. Besides, it just wasn’t in her nature.

      But first she needed to do something even more out of character.

      She needed to cry.

      Mark Campbell breezed toward the department secretary’s desk, juggling a cup of Starbucks coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other. As usual, his dark good looks and impeccable attire—custom-tailored suit, crisp white shirt, elegant silk tie—drew the interested glance of every unattached woman he passed, and a few glances from the attached ones, as well. It was a reaction he had come to not only accept but expect.

      “Morning, Lena.”

      “Morning, Mark.” The striking blonde gave him an indulgent smile as she checked her watch. “Must have been some party.”

      Well aware that he was forty minutes late, he grinned and shrugged. “Too many parties, not enough time.”

      With a shake of her head, she handed him a stack of messages. “These came in after you left last night and before you arrived this morning. You might want to check the top one first.”

      Balancing the bagel on top of his coffee cup, he took the slips of paper and scanned the message. “Dad called? What did he want?”

      “He didn’t say. Just that he wanted to see you as soon as you came in.”

      “Okay. Thanks.”

      Once in his office, Mark took a few fortifying gulps of the strong black coffee. It helped clear his head after a night of one too many drinks. As the caffeine began to take effect, he admired the sweeping view of Lake Michigan visible through the wall of windows in his high-rise office. Not an unpleasant way to spend his days if he had to work.

      And he did have to, as his father had made clear a few years ago. Accounting wasn’t so bad. It didn’t thrill him…little did. But he was good at it. And with a Wharton MBA and a CPA under his belt, he certainly had the credentials for the job—if not the interest. At least it was easy. He could breeze through the workday and then head out to enjoy life. As he had last night. There had been plenty of gourmet food, premium alcohol and gorgeous women on the posh party boat. It was a great life. What more could a man want?

      Even as he asked the question, the answer echoed in his mind, as it had with increasing frequency—and urgency—over the past few months.

      Something.

      Frowning, Mark set his coffee cup on the polished surface of his sleek mahogany desk and shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks, his upbeat mood dissolving. Though he tried not to dwell on that unsettling question—and its unsatisfactory answer—it kept cropping up. Almost anything could trigger it. Like yesterday’s call from his younger brother, Rick. A call that had left him feeling almost…envious.

      Which was ridiculous. There was nothing about Rick’s life he coveted. In fact, Rick had always struggled, while things came easily for Mark. Focused and studious, Rick had earned good grades only after great effort. Mark had aced his classes with minimal exertion. Then, after they both earned business degrees, their lives had taken different directions. While Mark took his time getting an advanced degree and taking a leisurely tour of Europe, Rick had accepted an accounting job with a small chain of Christian bookstores, gotten married, fathered two children—the second one was still on the way—and settled into a home in the suburbs.

      Mark had never understood why Rick had declined their father’s offer to join the family business. Yet he seemed happy. He now managed the chain of stores, and though Mark suspected Rick’s salary was far less than his, his brother seemed content. Rick’s response yesterday to Mark’s question about his weekend plans had once again confirmed that.

      “We have a Lamaze refresher class on Saturday morning. Then we’re going to take Elizabeth to the zoo. We’ll probably go out for pizza and rent a video after that. Sunday is church and grass cutting. And we might barbecue. You’re welcome to join us. It will just be burgers and brats, though. Nothing fancy.”

      Mark had only been half listening to Rick’s less-than-exciting agenda and, as usual, he’d declined the invitation. “Thanks, but there’s a gallery opening I promised to attend Sunday afternoon.”

      “Your social calendar must be a sight to behold.”

      “How about you? Don’t you ever want to get out and have some fun?” Mark has asked.

      “I have fun every day.”

      Dumbfounded, Mark had needed a couple of seconds to regroup. “You call the nine-to-five routine followed by chores at home fun?”

      “I like my job. And what could be better than coming home and sharing a meal with a wife and child who love you? By the way, I saw a face from the past a couple of days ago in one of our bookstores. Mrs. Mitchell. She asked me to give you her regards.”

      The sudden dull shaft of pain in Mark’s gut had caught him off guard, and his grip on the phone had tightened. The mere mention of Mrs. Mitchell had brought back a kaleidoscope of jumbled memories and emotions, the good and the bad woven together in a tangled web. He’d stopped trying to sort through them long ago, instead burying them deep in his heart. Especially the ones about Bobby Mitchell. He didn’t want them resurrected now—or ever. The past was over and done.

      But if that was true, why should events that had happened more than twenty years ago still have such power to disturb him?

      Finding no answer to that question, Mark had ended his conversation with Rick, then tried to put it out of his mind. But it had stayed with him throughout the day and into the evening, despite the many distractions at the party.

      It was odd, really. And unsettling. Until recent months, Mark had been just as content with his life as Rick seemed to be. But conversations like the one yesterday with his brother, or watching his father’s unwavering passion and energy for Campbell Publishing, or even simple things like observing a family in the park enjoying a picnic or flying a kite, had begun to affect him. Now when he went home to his professionally decorated loft condo, he was no longer impressed by the great view or the hip minimalist furnishings or the trendy address. Instead he was aware of the emptiness. Not just in the rooms but in his life.

      Something was missing. That much he knew. The problem was, he had no clue what it was.

      The intercom on his desk buzzed, and Mark took a deep breath as he punched the button, trying to dispel the dark mood that had descended on him. “Yes?”

      “Your dad’s office just called again,” Lena reminded him.

      “Let them know I’m on my way.”

      At least a meeting with his dad would get his mind off his melancholy thoughts, Mark told himself as he left his office and strode down the long hallway, his steps silent on the plush dove-gray carpeting. His father’s secretary waved him in, and without pausing he crossed the threshold into the spacious executive office of Campbell Publishing.

      Spencer СКАЧАТЬ