Chapter Eight #3
“Yes,” Sierra said, shocked and lost in thought. Blake had taken the time to see William. She didn’t want to think about why that made her feel warm and hopeful. “He went by there. So he’s been in Kansas City?”
“Sierra, talk to him. You didn’t know he was here because you won’t take his calls.”
“That’s amazing that he’s been out to see William. Did Mrs. Perkins say anything about William joining the other kids?”
“Yes, she did. He’s been making friends. She said once he started talking to the other kids and playing with them, he seemed to like being with them. She said he’s changed a lot. He’s still shy with her and other adults, but not with kids.”
“That’s really good news,” Sierra said, surprised and pleased. “So Blake did help. I’ll tell him how great that was.”
“So you’ll talk to him?”
“I’ll think about it. I’m happy for William. I might just send Blake a text.”
Rolling her eyes, Nan left Sierra’s office. Sierra turned back to her desk, thinking about William, about Blake being in Kansas City and not calling, and about someone coming this afternoon who was sent by Dirkson Callahan. The last was the most puzzling to her.
At one o’clock, Nan ushered in a man she introduced as J. Wilson Sedgewick, who represented Dirkson Callahan.
Sierra faced a short man with a fringe of black hair and rimless spectacles that were perched on his nose.
After she asked him to be seated, he opened a briefcase.
“Ms. Benson, I’m here on behalf of Dirkson Callahan.
He wishes to make a donation to this agency, particularly for a children’s shelter you have. ” He handed a sealed envelope to her.
“It is in honor of his four sons, and he hopes it will help some less fortunate children.”
“Thank you,” she said, astonished, as she looked at the envelope in her hand.
She began to open it. “Four sons?” she asked, remembering Cade and Gabe, the married son, Nathan—and Blake had to be the fourth.
She opened the envelope and withdrew a folded paper.
When she opened it, a check fluttered to her desk.
She read the handwriting scrawled across the page. In honor of my sons: Blake Callahan, Cade Callahan, Nathan Callahan, Gabe Callahan.
Dirkson Callahan.
She picked up the check and drew a deep breath when she saw the figures for a quarter of a million dollars.
“This is extremely generous, Mr. Sedgewick,” she said, looking at him.
“That’s an enormous donation, and we’ll try to honor it the best way possible.
This will help a lot of little girls and little boys, kids that have no families.
Please tell Mr. Callahan we’ll try to find some way to thank him and honor his sons. ”
“He does not want publicity for this. I’m sure you can understand. Just some simple recognition to his sons—perhaps a letter from the agency.”
“Of course,” she answered as he closed his briefcase and stood. She followed him to the front door of the agency and then turned back. Nan stood behind her, and Bert was beside Nan.
“What was all that about?” Bert asked.
“I can’t figure it out. Dirkson Callahan never acknowledged his oldest son.
According to Blake, he barely was a father to the other three sons.
Yet Mr. Sedgewick was Dirkson Callahan’s representative, and he gave me an envelope containing a donation to the agency in honor of his four sons.
It’s a check for a quarter of a million dollars for the children’s shelter. ”
“Saints above!” Bert gasped. “Sierra, what is it with you and the Callahans and all this money?”
“Are you and Blake engaged?” Nan asked.
“No, we’re not speaking. At least, I haven’t been taking his calls.”
“Maybe you better take them now,” Nan said.
“I have to agree. Think of what we can do for the children’s shelter.”
They stared at one another until Sierra passed him the check and headed for her office. “Bert, will you make a copy and get this check in the bank now?”
“Yes, I will,” he replied.
“I guess I’ll call Blake. I can’t figure this one out. How did Dirkson Callahan know about us or about the shelter? He’s never talked to Blake, and the other Callahan sons don’t know about the shelter.”
“Blake had to have told him,” Nan answered.
“That’s impossible. Blake is actively trying to destroy his dad’s hotel business. I can’t understand what just happened here.”
She heard her cell phone.
“Maybe that’s your answer. See if it’s Blake.”
“No, but I’ll take this call,” she said when she saw it was her mom.
They talked briefly. After telling her mother what had just happened, she tried to call Blake, but couldn’t get him.
She stared into space. What had caused the huge donation, and when did Dirkson Callahan start acknowledging his oldest son?
Where was Blake, and what was he doing? Why did she miss him so much when she was the one who’d said goodbye?
At six, Sierra closed and locked the office, then drove through traffic to her small house. As she tried to eat a bowl of soup and drink a glass of milk, a car horn sounded.
Looking out, she saw a tall man with a cowboy hat on her porch. He stood with his back to her, but she knew it was Blake.
“Just a minute,” she called. She opened the door and her heart thudded. He had on a broad-brimmed black hat, a navy shirt, jeans and boots.
She wanted to walk into his arms. Instead she asked, “What are you doing here?”