She turned up at Lisa’s office thirty-two hours later, her backpack slung over her shoulder, her hair unwashed and lank. Lisa opened the door and gaped in surprise, pulling her in for a tight hug.
“I thought it was another one of Nick’s flower deliveries, but it’s you. Bo, what are you doing here?”
Bo shrugged. “I wanted to see you.”
Her sister peered at her. “I know you sent that email about wanting a meeting about financial planning, and I meant to reply to you, but I got snowed under with something and didn’t have time. You didn’t have to fly twelve thousand miles to remind me.”
“This isn’t about financial planning.”
“What’s it about then?” Lisa asked, and there was a sharp curiosity in her gaze that made Bo shift on her feet. Once ajournalist, always a journalist, Bo realized. Lisa sensed a story here, and she knew all the tricks to get it out of her.
“I told you: I wanted to see you.”
“Well,” Lisa replied, though she didn’t sound convinced. “I’m glad you came.”
“Can I stay with you?”
Lisa gave her a look. “What about your mother?”
“What about her?” Bo was wary.
“Well, does she even know you’re here?”
Bo shrugged. “I kind of got on a plane and didn’t tell anyone.”
For a moment, Lisa was quiet. She strode across her office, sinking into her chair, looking at Bo keenly. “Are you back for good?” she asked Bo plainly, and Bo shook her head.
“No. Just for a while. I needed to get away from London for a bit.”
“Money trouble?” Lisa instantly asked, her face worried. “You said you wanted to talk about financial planning, and I know you’ve been sending your mother money.”
“Not money trouble.”
“Work trouble then?”
“No. Actually, I might have some news about that.”
“So, it’s not money trouble or work trouble.” Lisa sighed. “Man trouble?”
Bo said nothing, chewing on her lip.
“Oh, Bo.” Lisa, true to form, didn’t ask any questions. She simply, reliably and comfortingly went straight to what she knew best: practicalities. “You and Nick are worse than the plagues of Egypt, bothering me with your dramas.”
“Nick?” Bo puzzled to hear her brother’s name. “What’s wrong with Nick? Is he okay?”
“Oh, he’s fine. Still off in Singapore pretending everything is fine. Of course, we all know it’s not, but God forbid anyonetells him differently.” Lisa pursed her lips for a moment, before nodding to her coffee machine. “Do you want one?”
“Yes. I’m still on London time.”
“Tired?”
“Exhausted.” Bo dropped her backpack, falling into the seat across from her sister’s. She knew this office well. Everything about it, from the smell to the decor to the image of her sister working at her desk was ingrained in Bo’s mind from a young age. She couldn’t remember a time when Lisa hadn’t been in this office, working hard to keep their family newspaper alive and profitable. When their father had died, Armstrong News had been split three ways, with a third for Lisa, a third for Nick and a third for Bo’s mother, Margot. Lisa and Nick had thrown themselves into the work, but Margot preferred to be a silent partner. Why toil day after day and ruin her nails when a shareholder’s cheque would arrive anyway?
“It was the worst day’s work he ever did,” Lisa always said about that inheritance. She’d always maintained that Margot’s third should have been Bo’s from the start, held in trust till her majority, but what did it matter now? Geoffrey had left her half of his property, so even if Margot spent every cent of her father’s money, Bo would still have something for herself.
And Mum probably will spend every cent,Bo thought tiredly.She’s as bad with money as Berg is with alcohol.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Lisa asked casually.
