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Cammie had him deduct a portion of her salary every month, even though Dane didn’t want the money and Ava had a fund to subsidize the care of those in need. He’d never met a more admirable, caring person in his entire life. Except perhaps Susan and Bob Spencer.
“Ava’s people took such good care of him today,” Cammie told him. “I’m so grateful for that. I talked to her, but will you tell her that for me?”
“Of course I will.” Ava admired Cammie’s loyalty as much as he did.
“It’s been such a struggle for Uncle Lochlan. First, he had to take care of me after my parents died. And then the Alzheimer’s started so early.”
When her parents died in a car crash, Lochlan, her father’s older brother, had taken her in. Unmarried and childless, he was totally unprepared to care for a seven-year-old. Yet he became her surrogate father and raised Cammie to become the amazing woman she was. Dane had lost his parents when he was twenty-one, and though he hadn’t been a child, somehow both of them becoming orphans at a younger age and through tragedy was part of why they’d formed such a strong connection.
The bond had only grown between Lochlan and Cammie when he’d needed more and more care as she grew into an adult.
She’d been lucky to have Clyde Westerbourne, Lochlan’s longtime friend, who became like a father figure to her too. It was Clyde who’d sent Cammie to Dane. When Westerbourne decided to retire to his Caribbean island estate, Cammie couldn’t accompany him, not with her uncle growing worse.
Lochlan reminded Dane of his grandfather, who’d returned from the Second World War a changed man. Dane now knew he suffered from PTSD, but no one had understood that back then, and it was never treated. He’d heard stories of the fun-loving, laughing guy his grandfather had been before the war, but Dane had known only the quiet, withdrawn man he became. Just as the war had changed his grandfather, Alzheimer’s had changed Lochlan. Dane understood how difficult it was for Cammie, but he was also glad she’d had all the good years with Lochlan before the disease took him away.
She tapped her temple, obviously having had enough of that conversation. “Okay, let’s get down to the Mavericks.”
“We can let business take a backseat right now.” Even though he was dying to hear her impressions.
Cammie snorted. “Are you kidding me? I feel like an emotional mess when I’m not working.” Which was why Dane gave her projects to work on even though she was supposed to be on leave. Nothing huge, just enough to keep her mind occupied, like setting up the gallery and museum tour for the Correa painting. “So tell me how the temps are doing,” she said.
“They’re fine,” he said, working his mouth into a half smile. “But it takes three of them to do what you do.”
She smiled. How he’d missed her dazzling smile in the months she’d been gone. “It’s only because we’ve worked together so long. And I’ve watched your business grow.”
She’d skillfully sidestepped his compliment, but that smile told him how much she liked knowing she was irreplaceable. He’d never had any compunction about telling her—in fact, he enjoyed it. She kept his life on track. Just as Fernsby kept his houses in order.
“Okay, the Mavericks.” He hadn’t wanted to sign any contracts with the Mavericks until Cammie had met them. But she’d given him that nod and a wink right there in the café. “What do you really think about this merger of our two families?”
He included Cammie in that comment. She wasn’t just his assistant. He wanted her opinion as if they were peers, as if he weren’t a billionaire talking to the hired help. What she thought was just as important as his siblings’ opinions. The fact was, Cammie had been personally responsible for many of his big deals. He could take her to an exhibition or an art show, and she’d find a way to turn something they saw into an idea for a profitable business venture or a new feature at a resort. The Mavericks had been one of the few deals he’d found on his own, but only because of their close association with Gideon Jones and his foundation.
Of course, Cammie had brought Gideon’s painting to his attention.
He had to tell her, “Come on, my little idea genie, give me all your words of wisdom.”
She blushed. “Would you stop with that?” she groused at him.
He snapped his fingers. “It’s true. Great ideas come like you’ve pulled them right out of your magic lamp.” He gave her a quirky grin, miming rubbing a genie’s lamp. “Like buying Gideon Jones’s painting.”
As her blush deepened, she made a joke, taking the attention off herself. “What would the Mavericks say if they knew you were Lord Muckety-Muck?” She couldn’t truly accept compliments.
