‘No one ever wanted to die taking things easy, Clara.’ His reply was blunt and determined. Perhaps a little too blunt and determined. He looked at Clara, making sure he held her eyes. ‘How would you want to go?’
He watched her cheeks pink up. ‘Well, I don’t know; it’s not something I’ve really thought about.’
Oliver let out a sigh. ‘It’s all I think about.’ He smiled. ‘The other night, I watched Tony eat food to rival the guy on that showMan v. Foodand I thought how ironic it would be if I died right then when he practically inhaled a heart attack.’
‘So, how about it? Where would you want to be?’ Clara asked.
She’d turned the tables and he didn’t have an answer ready. Would he want to be here, working the role his brother was destined for? The football field, playing like he used to, scoring a touchdown, being part of a team that had the kind of camaraderie he’d never experienced since? Would he want to be with his mother, in Westchester? Or somewhere else? He let his breath go. ‘I have no idea.’
‘Well, I think I’d want to be on the last day of a three-week Caribbean cruise, having spent twenty-one days and nights soaking myself in margaritas, eating food I’ve never heard of before, sitting in the sun with a good book, Bill next to me, holding my hand, warm, comfortable, relaxed…’
He’d done this. He’d turned a simple fact-finding mission into sentiment city. He needed her to stop now. He coughed. ‘Show me the next card. I’d hate not to know these before you leave me for Cuba.’
Clara held up the next photo.
Oliver put his hand to his hair again. ‘Dammit, I don’t know this one and I really should.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up over this. I understand why you’re doing it and I think it’s a good thing but—’ Clara began.
‘Thomas… Tom… it’s coming,’ Oliver said, closing his eyes and crushing them together.
‘Shall I give you the first letter of his surname?’
‘No! It’s a “B” I’m pretty sure.’
‘It’s not a “B”.’
‘Fuck!’
‘It’s definitely not that.’
‘Sorry.’
The phone on his desk began to ring and he snatched it up without thinking about it. ‘Yes… OK… Put her through.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Hi, Mom.’
Clara got up out of her chair and made for the door. Oliver waved his arms, pointing her back to the chair as he paced.
‘So, I was thinking, if you’re free, maybe we could get together for dinner or something, with Andrew as well, of course.’ He swallowed. ‘You kept that one quiet.’ He made a face at Clara. ‘Yes I’ve seen the article inBusiness Voice…well which bit did you want me to say something about?’ He ignored his pounding heart as best as he could. ‘You think he’s just blowing off steam. Trying some sort of shock technique to get me back on board?’ He wanted to snort but held off. ‘Listen, Mom, let’s just meet up and we can talk it out over dinner. All of it.’
The words were literally burning their way up his throat as hespat them out as evenly as possible. He wasn’t sure he could make nice with Andrew, but Clara was right; it was the only way he was going to get to the bottom of his intentions towards Cynthia.
‘Maybe lunch?’
Clara started shaking her head and mouthing something to him.
‘Or dinner?’ Oliver said, looking to Clara, who nodded. ‘Yes, dinner. How about Mancinis, tomorrow night? Say, seven?’ He waited for the reply. He nodded. ‘Good, I’ll meet you both there. Listen, I’d love to talk for longer but Clara’s looking daggers at me over a report we need to finalise, so I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘OK, Mom, see you then. Bye.’
He ended the call and dropped the phone back into its cradle. With an audible expulsion of air, he dropped to his chair. ‘Wow, that was hard.’
‘But you did it,’ Clara remarked.
‘Yes, I did. But I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to stop myself from grabbing him by the throat tomorrow night.’
‘You’ll find a way, Oliver. Because you’re playing the more intelligent game.’
‘Yeah.’ He nodded. And he was going to ring Daniel Pearson the first moment he got.
‘And you have a date tonight, don’t you?’
