Page 13 of One Snowy Day
‘Great! So will you give me a lift there?’ Ginny asked, her body sagging with relief and gratitude. But only for a second.
‘Oh no, Ginny, I can’t. I mean, first your grandad, and now you – I’m not a taxi service. Besides, those roads out there are treacherous. Can’t you do it, Alyssa?’
‘Mum, I have a café to run, and Jessie’s party to prep for tonight… Ginny, you can borrow my van and drive there if that helps?’
Ginny clearly reached the obvious conclusion that nothing was going to change their mum’s mind, because she was now looking at Alyssa with pleading eyes. ‘I can’t! I’ve never driven in the snow and it’ll lead to certain death if I try. I can barely manoeuvre that van around the village on a sunny day. Please drive me there, Alyssa. I swear I’ll give you my first-born child. Or… or… my boyfriend! Yes, you can have Caden. And his spectacular abs.’
Alyssa opened her mouth to object, but as she did, another idea dropped in. Something her mother said about investment properties. This café had to be a decent investment for the owner of the building, because she knew he’d owned it forever. That probably meant there was no mortgage on it and her rent money was pretty much pure profit. Maybe his estate, or his family, or whoever had inherited this building didn’t realise that sheintended to stay here for the long term, and perhaps if they knew that they might understand that it could bring them a guaranteed ongoing return. Maybe she just had to give them all the information. And perhaps she could kill two birds with one stone. Besides, she couldn’t sit around and wait for someone to call her back. Not when she could go and see the lawyer and ask him to put her in touch with the relevant people so that they could talk. Negotiate. Contrary to popular opinion, she truly believed that most people were fundamentally decent and had good hearts. If her landlord’s family heard her story, hopefully she could persuade them to change their minds, or at least to extend the notice period so that she had time to come up with some other plan.
‘Okay, Mum, if I take Ginny into town, could you stick around for a couple of hours and help Grandad?’
Cue horror and immediate objection. ‘But I’m getting my nails done.’
‘Mum, please. You can see how important this is. I doubt anyone will be coming out today anyway.’
Alyssa hadn’t realised that Jessie was passing them on the way to the loos, until she spoke. ‘I can hold the fort for you, love. I was only going to get my hair done anyway. And it’s the least I can do with you giving up your night tonight to let us have the party here.’
Alyssa was about to gratefully decline Jessie’s very kind, but too generous offer – she couldn’t let one of her favourite people give up her plans on her birthday and very last day in the village – when her mother must have suffered an out-of-body experience, because she suddenly changed her tune and blurted, ‘No, it’s fine. Of course, I’ll do it. You two nip off and I’ll just move my appointment to later.’
For the first time since she’d opened the letter, Alyssa felt asurge of hope. Her mother was being uncharacteristically nice. All she needed now was for her former landlord’s family to be decent people with good hearts.
Surely that wasn’t too much to ask?
8
LACHLAN
Lachlan parked in a space about fifty yards down from Huntington Farrell on West Regent Street in Glasgow’s city centre. At least, he hoped it was an official space. It was impossible to tell with the six inches of snow that was now lying on top of the road markings. After leaving the airport, he’d taken a slight detour, much to the displeasure of his satnav, and nipped off the motorway at the Braehead shopping centre. There, he’d dashed into an outdoor clothing store, so he was now the proud owner of a North Face jacket so thick it could lag an igloo.
He checked his watch. Twenty minutes until the meeting, and he was just going to wait in the car, because he had no desire to arrive early and risk exposure to his family. He immediately corrected himself. Not family. His brother. That was it. Jason was the last person on this earth he wanted to spend time with. His stepmother didn’t count, because he barely knew her. Demi had been – oh the cliché – his dad’s executive assistant and had consoled his dad when Mum had died. Barely a year later, they were saying their ‘I do’s’ under a flower arch in the Bahamas, thenmoving lock, stock and barrel to Monaco, where they’d had four years of married life before his dad passed.
Despite the obvious gold-digging, thirty-year-age-gap, stereotype of it all, Lachlan was happy for them, because watching his dad drown in grief and solitude after Mum had died would have been awful. Lachlan now knew exactly how that felt. Losing Tanya… well, that had been the kind of heartbreak that he wouldn’t want anyone to suffer. For a year afterwards, every song, every place, every flashback had been like a nail gun being fired into his gut, until the only thing to do was to leave, escape the memories and start again.
And now he was back and he’d rather be anywhere else than here.
To distract his mind, he put a call into his friend and client, Dax Price, to give him an update on the job he was starting for him later this week. Dax had been Lachlan’s catalyst for the London move in the first place. He’d been playing football for a Glasgow team, and Lachlan had transformed the star striker’s home in the suburb of Bothwell into the house of dreams for a talented kid who’d grown up with nothing and gone on to be one of the top professional footballers in the country. The kicker was, though, that as soon as the house was finished, Dax had been transferred to a London team. The timing had worked for Lachlan, however – a new start in a place with no memories. So he’d packed up, moved down south, worked with Dax to find the perfect crumbling investment in Essex, then got to work creating a second dream home for his client. A six-car garage. A swimming pool. An extension that included a high-tech fitness room and – a new one on Lachlan – a spa that was purely for his barber and skincare specialist to take care of his appearance.
Lachlan had also taken on other clients, building hiscompany and his reputation, but now he was due to start work on converting the basement of Dax’s mansion into a games room and bar. Should be pretty interesting, given that the player was all over social media today. ‘Hey Dax, just a reminder that we’ll be there Wednesday morning to start on the demo. If that doesn’t suit, give me a shout.’
He checked his watch again. Five minutes. Okay, time to go.
He grabbed his backpack, tossed it in the boot, locked the car and did a runner to the swanky glass office building that housed Huntington Farrell. It was exactly the type of office he expected of a high-flying corporate firm. The marble floors, the glass chandeliers, the water flowing over the glistening granite on the whole expanse of one wall – if he were a client, he’d definitely be contemplating how much they were overcharging him so they could maintain this place.
‘Good morning. I have an appointment with Jeremy Sprite,’ he told the receptionist. ‘My name is Lachlan Morden.’
She checked something on her computer screen, then issued him with a pass on a lanyard. ‘Mr Sprite is expecting you. The lifts are just there to your right, and he’s on the third floor. His assistant will meet you there.’
Last chance to run, but what was the point? He’d only have to do it again. So instead of fleeing, he followed the instructions and nodded gratefully to the smiling assistant who was there to greet him when the lift doors opened on the third floor.
‘This way, Mr Morden. They’re all waiting for you in the boardroom.’
He almost smiled at the passive-aggressive dig under the breezy welcome. Yes, he was last. He’d planned it that way. In, out, shortest time possible.
He managed to keep his heart rate under control, and hisdemeanour calm as she opened the door and he passed her into the boardroom. Jeremy Sprite, his father’s lawyer for many years, was at the head of the table, with his brother and Demi next to each other on the faraway side, in front of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the stunning winter view of the city.
His internal dialogue kicked into damage-limitation mode.Act cool. Calm. You’ve got this.
Demi started to rise, so he automatically went round to their side of the table and kissed her on each cheek, as any dutiful stepson would do, despite the obvious fact that they were almost the same age and if they’d gone to the same high school, they could have been classmates. Next, he shook Jason’s hand, ignoring his brother’s predictably knuckle-crunching squeeze, but clocking the slight wariness, or maybe apprehension, in his eyes as he said, ‘Glad you made it.’
