She couldn’t do that to him. She wouldn’t.
‘Mom, I can’t,’ he said. He dug his hands down into the pockets of his trousers to hide the tremor.
A chill settled on his skin as what she’d said started to sink in. Talking in public was what he did. But about technology. About the company’s work, implementation and progress, lines of strategy. Not about anything personal. The McArthur Foundation fundraiser was a sparkling, twinkling, barrel of Christmas affair. There would be tables of notable Manhattan businessmen and women, probably the mayor and the police commissioner, but much worse than that, families of people affected by the cause the money was being raised for.
‘No, Oliver, you can. And youwill.’ She put her hand on the door. ‘You might be able to let me down without a second thought, but you willnotlet down that charity or betray our connection to it.’
Cynthia whipped open the door and very nearly bowled into Clara carrying the tray of coffee.
‘Oh, Mrs Drummond I was—’ Clara started.
‘I can’t stay I’m afraid, Clara.’ Cynthia cast a look back Oliver’s way. ‘I don’t want to take up any more of Oliver’s precious time.’
He swallowed the pebble of emotion in his throat and dropped his eyes to the floor. Could this day get any worse?
8
DRUMMOND GLOBAL OFFICES, DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN, USA
Oliver had been staring at the figures so hard, they were all merging into one big, numerical mess. He had structured and re-structured these figures for the Globe so many times. He strained his eyes, forcing them to look harder at the chart in front of him. They actually ached, hurting from overuse. He sat back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. If he was truthful to himself, he’d had a headache ever since his mother had left the office that morning. He’d bumbled his way through a lunch meeting, Cole having to do most of the work to get the client onside, and then he’d spent the rest of the day holed up in his office looking at figures and proposals he should have looked at weeks ago. Now he was trying to direct his focus on the thing he cared about most at the moment: the launch of his tablet. He picked up his pen, held it over the report for a second then dropped it back to the desk. It was no good.
The only thing on his mind was the damn McArthur Foundation fundraiser. And how he was going to get out of it. Because that’s what he had to do. There was no way he was going to let his mother put him in that position. The charity stuff was her thing,not his. She liked it. She spent half her life doing it. He, on the other hand, detested the emotion of it all. If people wanted to donate money to a cause then good for them, but he didn’t see the need for dressing up in tuxedos and ball gowns to show how well-meaning you were. Blatant publicity seeking like that had never been his bag.
He grabbed up the baseball stress ball and squeezed it tight in his hand until his knuckles turned white. He released his grip just as the door swung open. Clara came in, almost dropping the files she was holding.
‘Oh, Oliver, you gave me a scare. I didn’t realise you were still here.’
He looked at his watch. ‘What are you still doing here? It’s almost seven.’
‘I had a couple of things to finish off while it’s quiet.’ She put the files into his in-tray. ‘These can all wait for the morning.’
‘Then you should go home,’ he said, putting the ball back on the table.
‘I will if you will,’ Clara said, folding her arms across her chest.
‘As fun as it is to play parlour games with you, I’m not really in the right frame of mind.’ He let out a breath and picked up one of the files she had just delivered.
‘The meeting with your mother didn’t go so well.’
‘It was fine. She was just being a mother and I was playing the son role very badly. Same old.’
‘She told me you’ve refused to go home for Christmas,’ Clara said, adjusting her stance. ‘That you said you were working.’
‘I will be.’
‘Why? We’re not open for business.’
‘Believe it or not, Clara, there’s a great deal of stuff that goes on in the background here.’
‘Nothing that can’t stop for Christmas Day.’
‘Maybe some of us don’t want to stop for a sentimental overdose of carols, candy canes and candles at midnight.’
‘You heard what the doctor said yesterday.’
Why wasn’t she giving up? He just wanted to be left alone. Wanting to spend one day in December doing something different to everyone else shouldn’t be a crime. And he shouldn’t be constantly judged for it. ‘The doctor saw the business suit and made a call based on that.’
‘Oliver, it was a bit more than that.’
