Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who was nice enough to read and review the first two chapters of "To Live Again"! The reviews are so helpful...they really keep me motivated.
Another big thank you goes out to Tipperose, who never tires of sharing her wisdom and talents with me! I hope you'll like the way this third installment turned out. Happy reading!
Grey
Greyson McAllister set his expensive gray hat atop his head and smirked at the sight of the opinionated Miss Wilkes limping away down the dusty Georgia street as quickly as she could manage. Grey was pleasantly surprised to learn that the woman had refused to back down when confronted about the incident of the hotel door. Most girls in her place would have blushed, apologized sheepishly, maybe even shed a couple tears, turned tail and run home. But Miss Wilkes, it seemed, had no idea who Greyson McAllister was. And if she did, she didn't let on about it.
He reached into his coat pocket and removed a small slip of paper on which he'd inscribed an address the day before. Kennedy's, he reminded himself, slightly embarrassed that the encounter with the Wilkes woman had left him rattled. Kennedy's Timber Mill. He hoped Kennedy would be expecting him. After all, he'd written the fellow weeks earlier to alert him of his visit, but received no response. Well, if his lumber wasn't ready, he wouldn't mind remaining in Atlanta for a few days more. He rather enjoyed the bustle of the city and the sights of progress; buildings rising up everywhere.
Grey found the mill with no trouble and took a look around the premises. The mill was adjacent to a general store, also named Kennedy's. It appeared as though Mr. Kennedy was a very wealthy man. Grey masked another grin; he quite enjoyed doing business with his own kind.
He stepped up on the worn wooden sidewalk and assessed the storefront; he could see the merchandise placed neatly in the large windows for easy viewing. He liked it, it wasn't cluttered or disorderly. His reflection caught his attention, and though not necessarily vain, he did stop to glance at his appearance. After all, one did want to look ones best when doing business.
He looked no worse for wear after his encounter with Miss Wilkes, which was a relief to him. Grey always prided himself on not being easily distracted; it was a trait that had served him well through the years. He lifted his hat and smoothed back his light brown hair and adjusted the coat on his tall frame. Clear blue eyes stared back at him as he ran a hand over his chiseled, square jaw. He smoothed down the trim beard that ran the length of his jawbone; smiled and nodded at himself. It was time to meet the elusive Mr. Kennedy.
A tinkle overhead sounded his entrance into the lumber office. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the area. Small stacks of lumber, tables lined against the wall stacked with paper and books lining shelves were what greeted him, everything he expected to see except for Kennedy or anyone who worked for Kennedy. Letting the door shut behind him, he called out for assistance and waited for a response. Receiving none, Grey decided to visit the mill itself; surely someone would be at work by now.
He was met at the mill's entrance by a thin Negro man, brushing sawdust from his worn, patched-up clothing and staring at him inquisitively. "Kin I help you, suh?"
"Uh, yes," Grey took on his most professional tone. "I'm sorry if I've disturbed your work, but there was no one in the office when I arrived. I'm looking for Mr. Kennedy. I had an appointment with him."
"Mist' Kennedy ain' here no mo', suh," the man informed him. "Bizness belongs to Miz Butler now."
"Ms. Butler?" Grey asked. A peculiar thing for a woman to be in charge of a lumber mill.
"Yes, suh."
"Very well, then. I'd like to speak with Ms. Butler, please." Grey glanced around at the expanse of the mill, then back at the man before him who made no move to retrieve anybody.
"She ain' here neithuh, suh."
"What?!" Grey reminded himself to remain calm, though he was fully aware the frustration he felt had begun to spread across his face… in the form of a deep crimson flush.
"She outta town."
"Fine, fine. Who is in charge while Ms. Butler is away?" Surely there would be someone who could fill his order. He wanted Georgia pine, and Kennedy's had come very highly recommended.
"Mist' Ashley."
"Ashley. Good. I would like to see Mr. Ashley, then. Right away, please."
"Yes, suh," the man replied. He opened the door to the office and stuck his head inside. "Ain' nobody in the office yet, suh."
Grey rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. He didn't want to unleash his rising frustration on this fellow, although Grey did wonder if the man was simply playing games with him, just for sport. "I know there isn't. That's why I found you. I wondered if you might tell me where I could find the person in charge."
"Well, Mist' Ashley should be here any minute now. You kin wait fo' him out there if you want to." He motioned toward the office from which Grey had just come. Grey thanked the man halfheartedly and re-entered the office, wondering if he'd made the right choice by choosing Kennedy's lumber mill after all.
He seated himself and checked the time on the gold pocket watch attached to his vest. He let his mind wander for a moment, replaying the episode from the hotel. He couldn't help chuckling when he remembered the sharp-featured Miss Wilkes, looking almost as if she was ready to haul off and hit him. Maybe he shouldn't have argued with her, but she entertained him so. In fact, he wouldn't mind infuriating her again if only he knew where to find her.
The bell over the door tinkled again as a somber, golden-haired man entered the office. His eyes looked sad and his shoulders sagged as if he carried some enormous weight on them. He looked startled when he became aware of Grey's appearance. "Good morning," the man said, insincere.
"Good morning," Grey greeted in his businesslike tone as he stood, holding his hat in both hands. "Are you Mr. Ashley?"
"I am," the man replied, moving toward him to shake hands. "And you are--?"
"Greyson McAllister. I was supposed to meet with Mr. Kennedy, but I've been informed he's no longer here?"
"Yes, he's, ah, no longer with us. Actually, he passed away some time ago."
"Oh, I'm sorry…"
"It's all right, Mr. McAllister, we've had many people inquire about Mr. Kennedy. The business does bear his name, after all. Now, what can I do for you?" Mr. Ashley pulled a large record book from a nearby shelf, then looked back up at Grey.
"I'm interested in making a purchase. I own a construction company in Baton Rouge, Louisiana that is responsible for building businesses. Our services are in huge demand right now, Mr. Ashley, and I'm in need of a great deal of lumber."
"Well, let me take you into the lumber yard and show you all we have to offer, Mr. McAllister. I'm not sure we have all the lumber you'll need, but, perhaps it will be a start for you."
The two men walked side by side through the lumber yard, stopping to examine each stack of Georgia pine with great detail. Grey was pleased with the quality of the lumber, in fact his heart leapt when he imagined a bare skeletal wall rising from the ground and standing erect above his head. "Yes, I think this will do nicely," he said, remembering not to let his excitement show on his face.
"Good. Why don't we go inside and do the necessary paperwork?" Mr. Ashley led him back into the tiny office, which now seemed smaller and more cramped than before. Grey had long since decided he'd rather die than have to work in some stuffy office. He had to work outdoors, he could breathe better there. Oh, he knew his father had been disappointed when he learned that Grey wouldn't become a lawyer. But Grey had done well for himself, and continued to provide for his mother and his sister, Meg, long after his father's death. He liked to believe that somewhere, his father was looking down and smiling upon his success.
Grey and Mr. Ashley spoke for several minutes more once the business transaction was complete. Grey had decided to remain in Atlanta to oversee the preparation of his lumber order. Once the wood had been shipped back to Baton Rouge, he would return as well.
"Where are you staying, Mr. McAllister? Do you have family or friends in Atlanta?" Mr. Ashley inquired.
"No, I know no one in Atlanta," Grey admitted. "I'm staying at the Grand Hotel. It's been a very pleasant stay, I'm quite content there."
"But you're forced to eat at the hotel or a restaurant every night," Ashley observed. "How long has it been since you've had a home-cooked meal, Mr. McAllister?"
Grey chuckled a bit, "It's been some time, indeed."
"Well, then," Mr. Ashley said, his form and countenance looking much better than when he first arrived, "I insist upon you coming to dinner at the Wilkes home tonight."
"Wilkes?" Grey asked. He thought again of the hotel encounter. Wilkes, she'd said. …Not that it's any of your business…
"Yes," Mr. Ashley replied. "Wilkes is my last name. Ashley is my first."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Wilkes. All I'd been told was Ashley."
"Think nothing of it. So will you? Come to dinner tonight? My sister, India and I would be so pleased to have you."
Grey didn't usually accept dinner invitations from strangers, but this Ashley Wilkes appeared to be a good man. And if there was any possibility that this India Wilkes was the same Miss Wilkes from the morning, he couldn't miss another opportunity so see her. He was intrigued by her for some inexplicable reason.
"Of course," Grey replied gratefully as he shook hands with Ashley Wilkes. "It would be a pleasure."
