by Carrie Elks
He reached for her bag and opened his door, climbing out and offering her a hand. She placed her palm in his and he closed his fingers around hers as she followed him onto the pavement.
The driver walked around the back of the cab and opened the trunk, pulling Lachlan’s cases out and laying them upright on the concrete. She tried not to smile at the fact he had so many more cases than she did.
‘I’ll wait with you,’ Lachlan said. ‘I don’t need to check in for a couple of hours.’
‘No, it’s fine.’ She shook her head, painting a smile on her lips. ‘I’m sure you’ve got lots to do.’ She tried to swallow down the taste of regret on her tongue.
He carried on as if she hadn’t said anything. ‘It’s the least I can do.’
‘Please don’t. It would be weird.’ She needed to be alone, to think about everything that had happened. Every time he was next to her she couldn’t get her mind straight.
‘Thirty euros, please,’ the taxi driver said.
Lucy went to grab her purse, but her hand froze in the air. She felt her face flush as Lachlan paid for the fare.
Once the driver had left, Lachlan placed his cases on a trolley, then picked up her overnight bag, but she quickly took it from him. ‘I’ve got it.’ They walked towards the terminal, through the small crowd of people outside, and Lucy could feel her neck itch. As they stepped inside, a glance at the screens told her she needed to check in at desk fifty – far away from the transatlantic flights.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to wait with you?’ Lachlan asked. His voice sounded strange. As though it had been stretched thin.
‘I’m sure.’ She took a deep breath, then gave him a smile. ‘Thank you for a lovely weekend.’
‘It was my pleasure.’
‘Mine, too.’
Could this feel any more awkward? She did her best to ignore the little voice in her head, the one telling her this is why she shouldn’t mix business with pleasure. Even if that voice spoke the truth.
She looked around the departure hall. It was teeming with people. ‘I guess I’ll speak to you soon. About the case.’
Lachlan was moving the trolley back and forth, like a mother rocking a baby to sleep. ‘Yeah, sure.’
‘Have a safe journey.’ Should she kiss him? Maybe on the cheek. Anything else would feel strange.
Which was really messed up after the things they’d done this weekend.
Damn it, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his cheek. ‘Goodbye, Lachlan,’ she murmured.
He curled his warm palm around her neck, and moved his head, until his lips brushed against hers. ‘Goodbye, Lucy.’
She stepped back, swinging her bag in one hand, raising the other in a goodbye salute. Then she turned and walked towards the check-in zone, refusing to look back and see if he was still there. They’d made a pact and she was determined to keep it, even if she was already missing him like crazy.
No tears, no recriminations, no promises. Just two adults spending a no-strings weekend in the city of love.
Maybe she wasn’t as bad at this as she’d thought.
‘Can I get you another drink, sir?’
Lachlan looked up from his laptop screen – and his IM conversation with Grant – to see the waiter standing next to his table. The business lounge was half empty – most of those travelling for Monday meetings had already left – and he’d found the silence useful for catching up on all those emails that had been piling up for the past few days.
‘No thank you, I’m good.’ He nodded at the waiter. ‘Do you know if my flight’s still on time?’
‘Yes it is, sir,’ the waiter told him. ‘Boarding will begin in half an hour. I’ll come and find you as soon as they announce it.’
As the waiter walked away, Lachlan glanced back at the screen. Grant had been busy in his absence.
You have five meetings tomorrow, plus a teleconference with some investors, and your doctor wants to know why you keep rescheduling your medicals. Did you know we’ve had to cancel them four times already? You could be dying of something and we wouldn’t know.
Lachlan shook his head, suppressing a grin.
Try not to worry so much. You’re my assistant, not my wife.
Hey, if I was your wife, we’d be on our way to the divorce courts already.
The door opened and a couple walked in – the man dressed in a tailored suit, the woman in a dress with matching jacket. Her blonde hair reminded him of Lucy, and for the tenth time that hour he found his thoughts wandering back to her.
Her flight had already left, and yet for some reason he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He reached for his glass then remembered it was empty, his hand resting in mid-air for a moment. Strange how he’d half expected her to text message him before her plane departed, just to let him know she was okay. It wasn’t as if they had that kind of relationship, was it?
Even stranger that he’d felt disappointed that she hadn’t.
Pulling up his emails, he clicked on the red flag, his eyes skimming the urgent ones as he attempted to push her from his mind. But no matter how many times he read his messages, the only thing he could see was her.
Jesus, he needed to get a hold of himself. Just one weekend, that was all it was. Two stolen days with a beautiful woman – and that was supposed to be the end of it. They were grown-ups, they shared an attraction and they’d acted on it. That’s as far as any personal relationship went.
It didn’t matter that every time he closed his eyes he could see her standing on the top floor of the Eiffel Tower, the whole of Paris as her backdrop. That he could smell the floral scent of her shampoo as the breeze lifted her hair, revealing her slender neck. They’d had a weekend filled with mutual pleasure, and now they both had work to do.
It was time to get back to New York and get back to business.
And in the meantime, he would have another drink after all.
20
I must be cruel only to be kind
– Hamlet
‘How is he?’ Lucy asked, as she stopped at the reception desk to check in for the morning. ‘Has he settled in yet?’
It had been over a week since she’d arrived back from Paris, and this trip down to see her father felt long overdue. The last time she’d seen him was the weekend they’d moved him into the home, and she wanted to make sure he was okay.
‘He’s doing fine,’ the receptionist said. ‘He’s eating well, and he’s doing his crossword every morning. He even joins some of the other residents to watch the television in the evening sometimes.’ She smiled at Lucy. ‘He’s had a couple of episodes, which I’m sure the nurse will tell you about later, but overall he’s very comfortable.’
‘Episodes?’ Lucy asked. ‘What kind of episodes?’
‘Nothing to be alarmed about, and completely normal for his condition. He sometimes gets confused, and that makes him agitated.’ Another smile.
‘Thank you.’
Lucy was directed to the day room, a large airy space with windows and glass doors that overlooked the main gardens. A television was on in the corner – though no sound came out – but most people weren’t watching. Some were sitting in chairs just staring outside, others were reading. A thin, white-haired lady was dozing on the far side, occasionally letting out a loud snore.
She found her dad at one of the tables, the newspaper in front of him. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips against his papery cheek. ‘Hi, Dad.’
He looked up at her through his pale blue eyes. ‘Hello,’ he said, his voice polite. Two furrows lined his brow.
‘How are you doing?’ She sat down in the chair opposite his, the table between them. ‘Are you all settled in? Do you like it here?’
He took a slow look around the room. ‘Yes, yes, it’s very nice.’
‘And you’re eating well?’ she prompted. ‘Do you like the food?’
He blinked a couple of times, then picked up his pen, twisting it between his fingers. ‘I think so, ye
s.’ He pulled the lid off the biro then put it back on again. ‘What’s your name again?’
‘It’s Lucy, Dad.’
‘I’ve got a daughter called Lucy.’
It was her turn to blink. ‘I know you do. I’m your daughter.’
He shook his head. ‘Don’t be silly. Lucy’s just a little girl.’ He was still fiddling with the lid, pulling it off, pushing it back. ‘You’re a woman.’
She reached out for his hand, to stop him playing with the pen. ‘Dad, it’s me. Your daughter, Lucy.’
He pulled away as though she’d burned him. His bottom lip wobbled. ‘You’re playing tricks on me. I’d know my own daughter.’
She tried to bite down her tears. ‘It’s okay,’ she said quietly. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
But it did. It really did.
Suddenly, her father reached across and grabbed her hand, yanking until she almost fell over the table. ‘Where’s Milly?’ he asked, his voice raising an octave. ‘Where is she? Where have you taken her?’ He stared at her for a moment, then sat back. ‘What did you say your name was?’
‘It’s okay.’ Lucy tried to right herself, pulling her hand from his grasp. Over his shoulder she could see one of the nurses walking towards them. ‘It’s me, Lucy. Try not to panic.’
But she was the one who was panicking, her chest so tight she was finding it hard to breathe, her heart banging against her ribcage. Hot tears sprung to her eyes.
‘Everything all right, Oliver?’ the nurse asked, squatting down beside her father’s chair. ‘You a bit upset about something?’ She shot a reassuring smile at Lucy.
‘She’s telling lies,’ her dad replied.
‘Ah, don’t get yourself all upset. She just came to say hello.’ The nurse turned her smile on him. ‘I’m Grace, your nurse, remember?’
He gave the nurse a blank look.
‘How about we go and get you a nice cup of tea?’ Grace suggested. ‘And maybe a biscuit, too. I know where they keep the good ones.’ She offered her hand to him, and he took it. ‘And then we’ll come back and say hello to Lucy, okay?’
‘Okay.’ Oliver stood up, as compliant as a child.
‘You all right here for a minute?’ Grace shot a smile at Lucy. ‘He’s usually better after a walk and a drink.’
‘I’m fine,’ Lucy said, nodding rapidly. She watched the nurse lead her father away, and then she sat as still as a statue, grabbing on to the edges of her chair with her hands.
She didn’t know why she felt so shaken up. Maybe it was seeing his confusion first hand, or perhaps the strength he still had when he grabbed hold of her. His face had been taut with anger, as though for a moment he hated her with a passion.
She hated seeing him like this, hated knowing it would never get any better, only worse.
And though she had three sisters scattered across the globe, right then she felt completely alone.
‘John Graves is here,’ Grant told Lachlan, standing in the doorway of his New York office. ‘And I sent those projections over to the finance team. They’ll get back to you in a few days.’
‘Can you keep on top of it?’ Lachlan asked. ‘Make sure it’s their priority. I want to get back to Alistair with my initial thoughts next week.’
‘Will do.’ Grant glanced at his watch. ‘And you have that videoconference with the Scottish attorneys in an hour. Do you want me to bring you and John a coffee?’
‘Yeah, that would be great.’ Lachlan smiled. ‘And send John in.’ It had been a few weeks since he’d seen his Chief Legal Advisor. He was looking forward to catching up with him, to finding out where the Glencarraig case was at.
And yes, maybe John might mention a certain Scottish attorney who Lachlan was doing his best not to think about.
He stood up, stretching his legs after a long morning at his desk, and turned to look out of the window, to the city that stretched out before him. It had been this view that had sold the office suites to him – the thought of being able to work high above one of the richest quarters in the world, to absorb the atmosphere of the financial district. To keep his finger on the pulse at all times.
But now, it all looked so crammed in. So grey. No rolling hills or mirrored blue lochs to be seen. Just a city full of people rushing from one place to the next, with no time to appreciate their environment. If it was even worth appreciating.
‘Lachlan, it’s good to see you.’ John walked in, reaching his hand out. ‘How was Scotland?’
‘It was interesting.’ Without thinking about it, Lachlan slid his hand in his pocket and felt the shiny paper of the photograph there. Two small boys wearing matching kilts. ‘And wet. Very wet.’
John laughed. ‘I spoke to Malcolm Dunvale, it sounds like his Scottish team have a handle on the case.’
‘They’re working out fine. We had an initial meeting with my brother and his solicitor while we were there. And then we went to visit the lodge.’ He didn’t mention Paris. Wasn’t going to go there. ‘They’re confident we can see this thing through.’
‘And then the real fun begins.’
‘It does?’ Lachlan frowned.
‘Yeah, then you’ll be in charge of this place thousands of miles away. You’ll probably have to buy your own jet, the amount of travelling you’ll be doing. First Miami, and now the Highlands of Scotland.’
‘I wasn’t planning on flying over there all the time,’ Lachlan told him, gesturing at the conference table at the far side of his room. There was a television on the wall beside it, set up for videoconferences. ‘I’ll put somebody I trust in charge and let them do their thing.’
‘The same way you do in Miami?’ John raised his eyebrows.
‘Miami’s different. I have other reasons for visiting there.’ Why the hell did his thoughts immediately turn to the cool blonde with the hot body? ‘Family reasons.’
‘Of course you do. And how is your family?’
They spent the next five minutes on small talk, then moved seamlessly on to business. Grant interrupted them with a tray of coffee, then quietly left them to it. The next thing they knew he was interrupting them again, reminding them of the videoconference they were due to join.
‘I’ve set up the conference bridge,’ Grant was telling him. ‘I need to switch on the monitor.’ He walked over to the screen on the wall and turned it on, adjusting the camera above it to capture Lachlan and John. ‘The microphone’s off,’ Grant told them. ‘You can unmute it when you’re ready to start.’
The monitor sprang to life, revealing a conference room with frosted-glass walls. A large oval oak table was in the middle of the screen, with an older man in a dark grey suit sitting there. Lachlan recognised him from his visit to Balfour and Robinson. Malcolm Dunvale – John’s friend.
Malcolm leaned forward and pressed a button on the spider-shaped speaker in front of him. ‘Ah, you’re there. Good. We’re just waiting on Lucy, she should be here in a minute.’
Lachlan ignored the way that made his pulse speed.
John leaned forward to unmute their own speaker, and spoke to Malcolm in a friendly voice. The two of them had known each other for years, Lachlan remembered, and they were reminiscing about old friends. From the gist of the conversation he realised that Malcolm – and Lucy, he assumed – were in London, not Edinburgh. Curiosity piqued him.
‘Is Lucy’s flight late?’ Lachlan asked. ‘Is that why she’s not here yet?’
John shot him an interested look.
‘No we travelled down last night,’ Malcolm said. ‘She just had some personal business to take care of this morning.’
Lachlan opened his mouth to ask what kind of business, then closed it again. It was none of his concern, was it?
He glanced at the clock next to the monitor, frowning. She was already ten minutes late.
‘I do apologise for this,’ Malcolm said. His accent sounded less broad than Alistair’s, but it still made Lachlan think of that pub in Glencarraig and the warmth of the fire in the centre of
the room. ‘I’ll just pop out and see if anybody has heard from her.’
Lachlan tried to ignore the way his stomach tightened. ‘Yeah, that would be good.’ Where the hell was she?
But as Malcolm went to stand up, the door behind him opened, and Lucy walked in. She was wearing a jacket and a scarf, which she unlooped and hung on a coat rack in the corner. ‘My apologies for being late,’ she said, glancing first at Malcolm and then at the screen. ‘I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.’
‘Everything okay?’ Malcolm’s voice was low, but still audible on the speakers.
