‘Hm. If Dan gets hold of him, it might make Oliver bring the demolition date forward.’
‘True, it might backfire,’ said Kate. ‘But it’s worth a go, don’t you think? Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’
‘I’ll think about it.’ She already had, and she thought it a terrible idea, but she’d break the news later. She pushed back her chair. ‘I have to go.’
Kate rose too. ‘Lucy, I’m going to ask you a question and I’m hoping you won’t bite my head off.’
Lucy opened her mouth to protest. She couldn’t believe she ever bit anyone’s head off — least of all her mother’s.
Kate smiled faintly. ‘I know you. When you get as impassioned as this, the world — including your family — needs to watch out. But most of all, you need to be careful.’
Lucy felt suddenly deflated, as if someone had switched off the adrenaline supply she’d been running on. She sank back into the rattan chair.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be crazy, it’s just he’s driving me to it. Of course you can say whatever you like.’
Kate nodded. She almost looked nervous. ‘There’s something more going on here than the hotel, isn’t there?’
Lucy opened her mouth, then closed it.
‘You like him, don’t you?’ Kate went on gently.
‘How can I like a man who’d try to trick me, the community, everyone, in the name of profit? He’s awful, he’s everything I dislike.’
‘And yet you more than like him, don’t you? And that’s what’s eating you up.’
Lucy squeezed her eyes shut and huffed a deep sigh. There was no point denying it. Her mother could read her too well. ‘I don’t know what to do, Mum.’
Kate’s hand came up to cup her cheek. The loving smile, the crinkles around her eyes, the quiet sympathy — suddenly Lucy wanted to cry. Cry for the girl she’d once been who’d opened her heart to love, only to have that love thrown back at her. That man had been Laurent — her teacher, her first lover, her promiser of a world he’d never intended to give her. And now there was Oliver. At some point in the evening they’d shared together, he’d slipped past the defences she’d built around her heart.
‘It’s stupid. I mean I hardly know the man. But before everything went wrong, everything seemed to be going so right. I thought we had a connection. No, I know we had a connection, and I let myself hope. And that’s been crushed and it hurts, Mum. It hurts so much.’
‘I know, darling.’ Kate drew her into a light embrace, then stepped away. ‘And I also know you. You’ll sort things out to satisfy both your heart and your moral standards. You will. Hand on heart, I couldn’t say that about everyone, but you have so much strength and love and determination that I know you’ll get what you’re looking for in the end. Just keep being you.’
Just keep being you.
Lucy rose and nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
‘Think about it, Lucy. And we’ll catch up later, yes?’
Lucy cleared her throat. ‘Yes,’ she said, kissing her mother’s cheek.
Just keep being you.
Kate’s words echoed in her head as she walked around the outside of the house — she couldn’t face the others — and got into her car. Easier said than done. But her mother’s faith in her bolstered her. She could do this. She could. But her mother was wrong about one thing. She wasn’t remotely interested in satisfying her heart. That ship had sailed.
Her moral standards, though? Those she could work with.
She supposed the tactic of educating Oliver could be added to her arsenal. It wouldn’t hurt. It would appease her mother at least.
And it would just be her being herself.
She’d invite Oliver to a family barbecue and then let the family do their worst. But she’d leave it until the end of the week. Give him time to worry. The consultation meeting wasn’t until next week. She had time on her side. But it might be all she had.
Chapter Eleven
Oliver chatted easily to the last of the group as he showed them out of the hotel. He’d timed it carefully — bringing them through the rear door an hour earlier, making sure Lucy hadn’t seen any of it. He felt vaguely ashamed, though he told himself that was ridiculous. But he was focused on making the most of this stretch of silence from Lucy. A week was enough time to do damage control — cherry-pick the locals least likely to object to his plans and bring them firmly onside.
He’d shown them the worst of the building: the ruined back garden littered with rusting barrels and broken pallets, old furniture rotting in the open, every visible sign of decay carefully highlighted. None of it was beyond repair, but the appearance of neglect was persuasive. For non-experts, perception was more important than truth.
