It seemed churlish to complain about the exceptional weather – he should be enjoying the endless sunshine, but there was something timelessly British in the ability to find fault with, and moan about the weather. Plus, it was flipping hot. No two ways about it. Johnny grinned at his own predictableness, then headed for the shower.
He’d worked on his business plan long into the night. Pulling together as much information as he could access, predicting the value of his share of a dissolved Taylor Made Wine, working out how to afford continuing mortgage payments on Heather Drive for Natalie and Estelle while also taking on another sizeable chateau-shaped mortgage. The urge to tell his wife to pack her bags and sod off was strong and if it hadn’t been for Estelle, there would be no way he’d be considering continuing to pay for a roof over Natalie’s head. But the last thing he wanted to do was disrupt Estelle’s life more than was necessary. He’d just have to make the figures work. Somehow.
He’d settled on a sensible timeframe for renovating Chateau des Rêves, alongside rough costings. Projected figures for the kinds of amounts he hoped the new business would garner once it was up and running. Expected expenditures. The kinds of clientele he would be reaching out to.
It had exhausted him, which wasn’t a bad outcome. Johnny had slept heavily for the first time in a while.
There was no question some of his projected figures were, at best, very rough estimates. Or that some of them had been decided on with a very positive and profitable spin in mind. Over the years Johnny had gained a good understanding of what was required when looking for a sizeable loan and hoped that knowledge was reflected in his figures.
Before he reached out to any investors, however, there was someone else Johnny was hoping to impress with his plans. Someone for whom he should have already had far more consideration, especially once he’d suggested she could become a part of Chateau des Rêves.
For the first time in a very long time, Johnny had a clear vision of a future which might be his, and he had a kick-ass business plan to accompany it. He just hoped Fran appreciated it as much as he thought any potential investors would.
A couple of phone calls later and Johnny waited impatiently for his room service breakfast alongside a couple of paper copies of his plans. While he chugged back some coffee and did his best to eat apain au chocolatwithout flaking bits of pastry all over the rug, Johnny added some extra touches to one of the documents before sealing it in an envelope. He left that one at the front desk on his way out, then took his hire car and set course for Beaufoy Wines.
Fran had struggled to sleep more than fitfully the previous night and had woken early. This room change had brought her into the lap of luxury – and into a suite she hadn’t previously serviced – but, as before, the night-time noises had altered sufficiently to hold her attention and stop her from managing a deep sleep. Even if the sounds hadn’t kept jolting her awake, Fran didn’t believe she would have slept well. There was far too much swilling around her mind.
The champagne cooler with its bottle of Krug stood untouched in the centre of the room, between a pair of double sofas. They barely made a dent in the huge space, along with the king-sized bed in which Fran had starfished her way through the night. There were pleasing touches of the original building in this room, a built-in wardrobe had been fitted beside a huge beam which launched itself at an unusual angle across one wall,a stone lintel across the bathroom door still had initials carved into it. Maybe the chateau hadn’t been completely denuded of its heritage during its renovation.
Fran intended to return the champagne to the chateau cellar, and ensure nobody was charged for it. The gesture had been completely unnecessary but had been made with the best of intentions. It had also left Fran feeling uncomfortable. Was being Bill Wilding’s daughter going to change the way everybody viewed her?
The revelation had certainly had an impact on Penny’s attitude – or maybe that was more to do with the fact Fran hadn’t been completely honest with her.
Her clothes had been hung up or folded away in drawers, and Fran searched through unfamiliar piles as she tried to decide what to wear. It would be good not to have to don the hotel uniform again, she couldn’t pretend she was going to miss that, but it seemed weird to be choosing normal clothes in this setting after spending five days in far too much polyester.
Perhaps she would have time for a swim later, once she’d sorted things out with Penny. She intended to find Penny and try to make her understand … but understand what? That she was just an ordinary girl who’d suddenly discovered she had a father who owned a multi-million-pound international business and didn’t understand what the impact of any of it would be on her life?
Fran blew out her cheeks, allowing the air to escape slowly between tight lips. Because even though that was exactly who she was, something told Fran it was going to be a tough sell.
She ran a brush through her hair, applied a minimal amount of mascara and was about to uncap her lip gloss when her phone rang. Fran tapped the screen to see who was calling, then laid down the makeup. It was Wilding Holdings.
‘Is that Francesca?’
Fran recognised the voice; it was her father’s PA who remained incapable of using the shortened form of her name. Her father’s PA … A statement which still made her frown in disbelief.
‘Hi, Katie, yes, it’s Fran.’
‘How are you enjoying Chateau les Champs d’Or?’
‘It’s been a very interesting stay,’ Fran said, her mouth quirking up at her own layered answer.
‘Just to let you know Mr Wilding is helicoptering in this morning to see you. I haven’t got all the details, but he had me make all the arrangements late last night. He should be with you by eleven.’
Fran’s grin slid from her face. ‘Did he say why he was coming?’
‘Something to do with a report? He didn’t go into specifics, just wanted me to alert the pilot and the ground crew. And to let you know he’s on his way to you now.’
‘Does the hotel know he’s coming?’
‘That’s my very next call.’
Katie sounded just as she had the very first time she’d phoned Fran, when Fran had hung up on her. And in every call since. Endlessly cheerful and positive, regardless of the information she was imparting, or the request she was making. Fran knew as much from the little time she’d spent at Wilding Holdings’ central office. Guillotine or grand gesture, the intonation was the same. Which meant Fran was none the wiser about her father’s thoughts on her report. Was he going to be coming in hot? The immediacy of his actions would suggest as much. Or maybe he was simply being efficient.
‘OK. Thank you for letting me know,’ Fran said, her mouth drying with her words.
‘You weren’t heading out for the day or anything, were you?’
‘No. I’ll be here.’
