‘I didn’t know what it meant at first but then I Googledbachelorand?—’
Hayley put an arm around Angel and stifled her into her coat. ‘We’ll be going now.’
Clara smiled. ‘What was your name again?’ The question was directed at Hayley.
Hayley stroked Angel’s hair, pressing her face into her side as her daughter attempted to struggle her mouth away to freedom.
‘Lois,’ Hayley croaked. Angel let out a stifled noise that sounded like a gagged hostage.
As she turned them both away from Clara and headed rapidly to the door, she was already cringing. She didn’t let Angel go until they were outside, sucking in the frozen winter air.
‘Why did you do that?’ Angel moaned, rubbing at her lips with her fingers.
‘Why didIdo that? Why did you come out with the top ten amazing facts about her boss?’
Angel shrugged. ‘I only know two.’
‘Thank God for that.’
‘You were acting all funny,’ Angel carried on. ‘And why did you say your name was Lois?’
Hayley pointed down the street. ‘Ooh look, a bodega! Let’s see if they have Yorkshire puddings and a Terry’s Chocolate Orange.’
16
DRUMMOND GLOBAL OFFICES, DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN
Oliver splashed some water onto his face, letting the beads of moisture take away the heat there. The conversation with Andrew Regis today had been a little odd. When he’d tried to get out of the man exactly what the outstanding issues with the merger were, Andrew hadn’t had much to say.
Oliver stood up, palming his face, letting the excess water fall into the square basin in front of him. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, catching the last drips off his chin then planting his hands down on the bench, steadying himself.
He’d suggested another meeting to iron things out, talk about the future for the companies and then Andrew had hit him with it. Talk about the past. Tales of his father’s avant-garde approach to business back in a time where firms were struggling, the economy was in a sticky patch and unemployment figures were higher than ever. Weekends in the Hamptons and barbecues on the beach. Andrew had brought all those images flooding into focus and, along with it, every ounce of pain, regret and anger Oliver felt. Plus the giant sceptre of fear that was always hanging over him.
There had been times, wonderful, care-free times, when deathhadn’t lurked in every corner of the Drummonds’ lives. There had been laughter, so much laughter, a childhood Oliver wished he’d been more appreciative of at the time. Their beach house at the Hamptons had been sold but he still remembered everything about it. The way his mom had decorated it in a nautical, seaside theme. Cool blues and greys, driftwood sculptures on the dresser, photos in bare-wood frames, shells and sand in pots, nothing uniform. He and Ben had spent endless days on the sand, chasing each other, chasing girls when they were older, and running after every last sunset before they had to come inside. Then it was movies with popcorn, wrapped up in striped rugs, their hair still wet, sand sharp between their toes. Richard always wanted comedy so he could laugh out loud. Cynthia preferred romance so she could cry. Ben liked action movies and if Jackie Chan was in one, he’d loved it even more. Oliver had never minded what they watched as long as they were all together.
He swallowed back the memories and stared at himself. What was he doing? Looking for all the answers like they were etched on his face? There was nothing there except the eyes he’d inherited from his mother, the long, straight nose of his father and the hard, tense jaw which was all his own. He needed to get it together. Just because it wasthattime of year again, didn’t mean he could fall apart.
He sucked in a breath, trying to ignore the pull of his chest wall and the spasm of an ache that happened when he straightened his shoulders. He shrugged them up and down, trying to release the tension. Maybe itwasstress. Perhaps it was better to believe he was weak than face the notion he was going to drop dead at any moment. He scoffed. Tony would be chastising him if he was here now.
As if the reminiscing hadn’t been enough, Andrew had also mentioned the McArthur Foundation fundraiser. Thebusinessman had bought two tables and he was taking his top performing employees. Oliver remembered opening his mouth to tell Andrew he wouldn’t be attending but something had stopped him from committing to the sentence. It was plain and simple guilt over his non-attendance, over his mother’s disappointment and disapproval, over everything in his damn life right now. Fucking guilt he shouldn’t have to bear. At this rate, guilt was going to kill him sooner than any heart attack.
His suit jacket was lying across his desk when he got back to his office. He approached it, gingerly, with caution, as if it might contain an incendiary device. Who had put this here?
Only now was he able to put two and two together. Slowly, it was all falling into place. He’d seen her. Earlier today, when Cole had been giving him a running commentary on a charity project they’d been looking into. He’d looked for just a second, acknowledged an attractive woman sitting there and a girl eating something. Then he’d looked away again. It had been Lois. The woman who had rescued him from a night being eaten alive by the woman in the red dress. Why hadn’t he paid more attention?
The door of his office opened and Clara stepped through.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were back in here.’
‘Clara, did you put this here?’ Oliver asked, holding the jacket up.
She nodded. ‘Yes, a woman brought it into reception.’
‘Did she leave her name?’ Oliver asked.
‘She did,’ Clara said. ‘If only I could remember what it was.’
He folded his arms across his chest. He knew what Clara was doing. She had picked up on his shift in body language from fractured to intrigued and she was spinning this out.
