She shrugged and held out her hand. “I’m Marie Green, nice to meet you.”
I took it, feeling that her grip was firm and confident. “Grant Callaghan. Can I make you a coffee?”
Her laugh was fierce and full. “Good one. Actually, I’ll have tea. I may’ve lived the majority of my life in America, but I still prefer tea.”
“Tea it is. I’ll bring it in.”
I had found the little room where tea and coffee making facilities were stored, along with pastries and snacks. It was a good idea and one I’d take back to the Callaghan offices in Borough. I thought about that and where we could put it in the building rather than Marie Green, who was far too pretty for me not to notice.
I’d blotted my copybook with her anyway, and I was too tired to even consider a dalliance while I was over here. I had two nannies and a housekeeper who were trying to child wrangle, and I was convinced that I’d be at least one down by the end of the week. My offspring were feral at best, wild at worst and I was out of solutions. My father had suggested sending the eldest, Maxwell, to boarding school, but I didn’t have the heart. He was missing his mother, his best friends were his brother and sister and the girl next door and separating him from them seemed cruel.
I took a pot of tea and two cups back into the room where Marie still was, looking through some papers from the file.
“Here we go.” I put the tray down, pleased I’d managed not to spill anything. “I brought biscuits too.”
“Cookies. You’re in America so they’re cookies.” She snatched one off the plate and broke it in half. “And it isn’t a pavement, it’s a sidewalk. And your waistcoat isn’t a waistcoat, it’s a vest. Key things you need to know.”
I laughed, some of the tension going. “It’s like we don’t speak the same language.”
“We pretty much don’t. Then you’ve got me, who’s grown up mainly in Ireland, not spent a ton of time in England, and doesn’t fit quite anywhere.”
“You don’t sound sorry for yourself though.”
She shook her head. “I’m not. I like being different. Tell me more about your kids. Who’s the eldest?”
“Maxwell. He’s into cars and books and climbing trees. He doesn’t know fear. He misses his mum and he thinks he’s the man of the house when I’m not there.” He was having to grow up too quickly.
“You live in London with them then?”
I shook my head, uncertainly gripping at my chest. “We have a home in Oxford with lots of grounds so the kids can run and play.”
“But you work in London? How often do you see your kids?” She didn’t look impressed.
“I go home on a Friday evening and head back to London after bedtime on a Sunday. I don’t take work home at a weekend so I can spend time with them and give the nannies a break.” I’d been conditioned to work long hours from being a teen, to graft over files, preparing bundles and writing drafts.
Marie didn’t say anything, she just sipped her tea.
“How about you? Any family yet?” I filled the silence.
“No. Second eldest and oldest girl. I’ve already brought up at least three kids. I can wait for more. Besides, I have to work hard to make sure I’m not seen as the token woman just there to make coffee.”
“Touché.” I held my cup up to her. “How are your clients? Mine have told me Polly and Colin are awkward.”
“Polly’s awkward. Colin just does as he’s told. Polly has his testicles in her handbag and occasionally she lets him have them back for five minutes.” Marie ran a hand through her hair, that was almost black curls, wilder than it had been this morning.
I hid a wince at the description. “Sounds uncomfortable. Are they okay with you leading the mediation?” I’d come across Polly and Colin before a couple of years ago, not long after I’d qualified. They’d had a contractual dispute that had gotten messy and they needed a way out. A lot of the mess they’d created themselves because they were unpleasant, entitled people who refused to take responsibility for their own actions and held others too accountable for sorting out their mess.
“Almost. If they don’t get what they want – which they won’t, because what they want is unrealistic – they’ll blame it on my inexperience. The partners know this already, so I won’t be hungout to dry.” She smiled wryly. “How are your clients about it? What hope have you got for them being reasonable?”
I took a long lungful of air and sat back. “I think they get it. There’s nothing held by either party to confirm ownership of the land. Deeds show it being part of either property at different times, but there is the blueprint which also shows it being divided in half. My advice is a fifty-fifty split, or an enterprise undertaken by a trustee to build a suitable property and sell it, then the profits are split fifty-fifty.”
Marie paused, her cup of tea hiding her mouth still. “You make it sound simple. Polly likes to complicate everything.”
“She does. But it’s your job to un-complicate it.”
Fire burned in her eyes and she slammed the cup down on the table. “And it isn’t your job to tell me how to do mine.”
“True. And I wasn’t. Sorry if it came across that way. I’m just frustrated because if they worked together on this, they could end up making a lot more money with a lot less stress. And I want to be in court for the other case.” Which I was going to be pissed off at if I missed it.
