“Oh, yes,” Bo rapidly tried to explain. “But his nephew has moved into his house. The house he inherited. He’s asked me to stay on for a few months and keep tending to the garden and house and stuff.”
Lisa didn’t need to know what “and stuff” had entailed last night, Bo decided, mentally adding “new batteries” to her shopping list for later.
“Hmm.” Lisa sounded thoughtful. “I didn’t know Sir Geoffrey had a nephew. He wasn’t in any of the obituaries I read. Or in ours. We printed one in our paper, you know.”
“I didn’t know,” Bo replied. She had very little interest in any of the publications her family owned. She wasn’t gifted with words like her sister and brother, and nor had she inherited her father’s talent for business or interpersonal skills. She was an Armstrong in name only, with just her looks to get her through life.
It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had the chance to learn. When she was little, her father had taken her to the office a few times. He’d been proud and patient, eager to show her the hum of the printing presses, the glowing monitors of the computers, the busy reverence of a newsroom in action. He’d wanted her to see what the family did, to understand the business that bore their name. To set her on the same path as her older sister and brother.
But her mother had stopped it before it ever became a habit.
“Baby,” Margot had said with that sharp, pitying smile she reserved for the hopelessly misguided. “You don’t need all that. You’re beautiful. Leave it to your father. Leave it to Lisa and Nick. They’re the clever ones.”
A week later, Bo was enrolled in another beauty pageant, and once again under her mother’s training to sparkle rather than think.
Now, she chewed on her nail again as Lisa’s words sank in. “You mean, there was no mention of a nephew at all? That’s odd.”
“It is odd, isn’t it?” Lisa paused. “I thought it was just him and an ex-wife who died a few years back. I felt quite sad for him. But you say there’s a nephew?”
“Yes. Max.”
“Well, it’s good to hear the old boy wasn’t entirely alone. I’m glad he had someone to leave all his worldly possessions to.”
Bo stayed silent. She wasn’t ready to tell Lisa yet about her inheritance of 13 Orchard Drive.
“I saw your mother last week, by the way,” Lisa added, and now Bo winced.
“Did you?”
“Mm.” Lisa sounded distinctly unimpressed. “She wanted to borrow money.”
“Oh.” Bo felt mortification slide through her. “Sorry.”
“It’s nothing to do with you,” Lisa insisted firmly. “You of all people know what your mother is like. Money runs through her fingers like the high-priced hair oil she uses.”
Bo said nothing, an ingrained and probably undeserved but natural loyalty to her mother at war with her love and loyalty to the older sister who’d half-raised her. She heard Lisa sigh.
“Anyway, I thought I’d check you were okay for money too. I know you send most of your pay cheque to her. You should stop that, by the way.”
“She’s my mum.”
Bo heard Lisa sigh. “Yeah. She is. But she doesn’t need you to support her. She’s more than capable of supporting herself.”
Bo doubted that. She took a deep breath. “I’m fine for money. I work. I like working.”
“I know.” There was a new warmth to Lisa’s tone. Bo knew her sister; knew how proud she was of the famous Armstrong work ethic. “I loved the last pictures you sent me of those bouquets you put together for that wedding. Forget acting; you should go into floristry full time.”
“Maybe I will,” Bo agreed, and even though her sister couldn’t see it, she smiled. A career in floristry was something she’d considered once or twice before but always dismissed as an impossibility. She’d done the research, talked to Ida and knew that starting a business from scratch needed investment and tools and months of work and preparation. Bo’s salary from her work at Ida’s and what Geoffrey paid her had just about covered her day-to-day living expenses, and what she had left she handed over to her mother without question. Living in London was expensive, even if she did live rent-free in Geoffrey’s garden, and her money didn’t stretch much further than the basics. So, Bo was perpetually living a hand-to-mouth existence, without any ability to save for the future, rainy days or post-existential-crisis career changes.
Her inheritance from Geoffrey would change all of that.
“It’s a good idea,” Lisa agreed. “So, you’re sure you’re okay? Anytime you want to come home, say the word. I’ll cover your flight back, you know I will.”
“I know. But I’m okay for now.”
“For now.” Lisa gave another sigh. “I miss you, you know. Nick is in one country, you’re in another and I’m here with only your mother and mine for company — oh, and the copious number of bouquets our brother buys me from his favourite florist.”
“Nick has a favourite florist?”
