“Wait until he turns around again. He’s most definitely Sam Houston, or whatever his name is.”
“That’s not a cheap suit he’s wearing.” Tsking, Brenna shook her head. “His hair is clean and trimmed, and he has no facial hair.”
Derek squared his shoulders. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I have a responsibility to this town, and that man’s up to something.”
“Wait.” Brenna stopped his march with a hand to his shoulder. “You also have a duty to represent this town in a positive light, and he might have a logical explanation. Give him a chance to explain before you accuse him of anything.”
“I’ll be professional.” He tugged on his sleeve. “But he owes me a coat, as well. I borrowed this one from Carson, and it’s a size too small.”
“Be careful and calm.” She followed him, keeping pace with his long strides.
When he reached Sam, he tapped on the man’s shoulder. “Excuse me.”
Sam turned around, and recognition lit his eyes. “Hello again.”
“So it is you. Not that I doubted.” He worked hard to keep the wariness from his tone. “I trust you stayed warm in the storm?”
“Thanks to your generosity, yes.” Sam grinned, unaffected by any tension in the air. “I brought your coat and scarf with me to return to you. It’s in my hotel room. I apologize for not getting it to you sooner.”
Derek eyed him closely. “With all due respect, Sir, you have some explaining to do. We welcome visitors in Noel, but not ones who dupe us and play on our sympathies.”
He felt a sharp pain in his side and realized Brenna jabbed his rib, and she gave him a warning glare. “Be nice,” she mouthed.
“It’s okay.” Understanding filled Sam’s face. “I’d also be suspicious if the roles were reversed, but if you give me time, I can explain everything. I’m not here to fool anyone, rather I hope to restore your town’s economy.”
“How do you plan to do that?” Brenna stared at Sam with a curious gleam. “We need industry.”
“The short answer is, I bought the old Mason Textile factory.” Sam gestured toward City Hall. “Why don’t we go inside and discuss this where it’s warm. My southern roots aren’t made for this cold.”
“Follow me.” Though Sam’s statement piqued Derek’s curiosity, he wasn’t letting up on his doubts. He took hold of Brenna’s hand, and the three of them crossed the sidewalk.
Inside his office, Derek offered Sam one of the visitor seats. Instead of taking the second free chair, Brenna came and stood by his side with a hand on his shoulder. Her show of support touched his heart and warmed his soul.
He folded his hands in front of him on the table. “First things first, what is your real name?”
“Sam Houston Donaldson, at your service.” His eyes sparkled. “My parents are proud sixth-generation Texans.”
“Ahh.” Derek cracked a small smile. “What company are you with?”
“Have you ever heard of Tenley Dolls?”
Derek shook his head, although the name sounded vaguely familiar.
Brenna, however, came alive and flailed her arms in animated gestures. “Those were my favorite dolls as a girl. I had three of them and every accessory they came with. Well, maybe not every single one because they were costly and my parents said no, but I had all the ones they allowed me to have.”
Apparently, she’d forgotten they were suspicious of this man.
Sam’s grin grew at Brenna’s excitement. “Did you ever attend one of our teas?”
“Yes.” Brenna’s voice squeaked with pleasure. “I had my tenth birthday party at the one in Portland.”
“Good, good.” Sam’s head bobbed slowly.
Not that Derek minded a trip down memory lane, but this wasn’t the time. He wanted answers for his town. “What is your role with the company?”
“My wife and I own Tenley Dolls. We started the company twenty-eight years ago to honor our daughter Tenley who passed away at the age of six.”
A shot of compassion flowed through him. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure you still miss her even now.”
