‘Great. You drive straight over to Suzy’s and go over all those lists and spreadsheets with her. We’ll divvy up tasks later. Have another think about anyone internally, and if there really is nobody I’ll call a couple of agencies later today.’
A sense of satisfaction ran through him as he made the decision. He was a hands-on boss—too hands-on, some said—but he liked to know exactly how everything was handled, from salad prep to food sourcing. It was his name over the door after all.
Fliss saluted. ‘Yes, Boss,’ she said, then turned round to leave the room, only to stop with a strangled cry. ‘Jonas! Look—in that corner over there.’
‘Why exactly are you whispering?’ Although he knew exactly what—exactly who—she had seen. He cocked an eyebrow at her, aiming for a nonchalance he didn’t feel. Lawrie’s unexpected presence was no big deal. He had no intention of letting it become one.
Fliss obviously had other ideas. Her eyes were alight with excitement. ‘It’s Lawrie. Look, Jonas.’
‘I know it’s Lawrie, but I still don’t know why you’re whispering. She can’t hear you, you know.’
‘Of course she can’t, but...’ Her voice turned accusatory. ‘You knew she was here and didn’t tell me?’
‘It slipped my mind—and it’s obviously slipped yours that we were discussing a rather pressing work matter.’ His tone was cool. ‘Don’t you have somewhere to be?’
‘Five minutes?’ Fliss gave him a pleading look. ‘I can’t not say hello.’
To Jonas’s certain knowledge Fliss hadn’t seen or spoken to Lawrie in nine years. What difference would a few hours make? But his second-in-command, oldest employee and, despite his best efforts to keep her out, best friend was looking so hopeful he couldn’t disappoint her.
He wasn’t the only person Lawrie had walked out on.
‘Five minutes,’ he allowed, adding warningly, ‘But, Fliss, we have a lot to do.’
‘I know. I’ll be quick—thank you.’ Fliss rushed from the room, casting him a grateful glance over her shoulder as she did so. Less than a minute later she had arrived at Lawrie’s table, falling on her in a breathless heap.
Jonas watched as Fliss sat down at the table. He saw Lawrie look up in slight confusion, her puzzled expression quickly change to one of happiness, and the mobile features light up with enthusiasm as she greeted her friend.
When they both looked up at the office he looked away, despite knowing that they couldn’t see through the tinted glass; he had far too much to do to watch them catch up.
Jonas pulled up a report he had commissioned on the small chain of restaurants in Somerset he was considering taking over and read it.
After ten minutes he was still on the first page.
He glanced over at the window. They were still yakking away. What on earth had they got to talk about for so long?
Typical Lawrie. Turning everything upside down without even trying.
When he had seen her standing outside, looking so uncharacteristically unsure, he had seized the opportunity. As soon as he’d known she was back—heard through the village grapevine that she was here to stay, that she was alone—their moment of meeting had been inevitable. Trengarth was too small for a run-in not to be a certainty, but when it came he’d wanted it to be on his terms.
After all, their parting had been on hers.
Inviting her in had felt like the right thing to do. The mature thing. Maybe he should have left her outside after all.
He looked back at the computer screen and started again on the first line. It was gobbledygook.
Jonas’s jaw set in determination. If Fliss had forgotten that she had a lot to do, he hadn’t—and he was going to go down there and tell her. Right now.
*
At first Lawrie hadn’t recognised the small redhead hurtling towards her. Nine years ago Fliss had sported a pink bob and multiple piercings and wouldn’t have been seen dead in the smart black trousers and blouse she was wearing today, but the generous smile and the mischievous twinkle in the hazel eyes were just the same. After five minutes’ excited chatter it was as if they were still teenage waitresses, hanging out after work, although so many things had changed Lawrie could barely keep up.
‘You’ve been working for Jonas all this time?’ Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the incredulous tone out of her voice. ‘What about acting and RADA?’
‘Turns out I am a great amateur.’
Lawrie looked sharply at her but Fliss was still smiling, and there was no hint of disappointment in the candid eyes. ‘I am also a great brand and marketing manager—who would have thought it?’
‘But you wanted to do so much—had so many plans.’
‘I have so much! Wait till you meet Dave. He moved here after you left, came for a week’s surfing and never left.’
The two girls giggled conspiratorially.
‘I have my drama group, and I love my job. I may not have done the travelling or the big city thing, but I have everything I need and want. I’m a lucky girl. But your plans sound exciting. New York! I have always wanted to live there—starring on Broadway, of course.’
So she might have made New York sound like a done deal rather than a possibility, but Lawrie had had to salvage pride from somewhere.
She was considering her reply when a shadow fell across the table. Glancing up, she saw a stern-looking Jonas standing there, a frown marring the handsome face. An unexpected flutter pulled at Lawrie’s stomach, one she’d thought long dead, and she took a hurried gulp of her coffee, avoiding both his eye and Fliss’s sudden speculative gleam.
‘I thought you were off to see Suzy?’ His attention was all on Fliss.
‘I am,’ Fliss protested. ‘But I have just had a brainwave. How about Lawrie?’
Lawrie’s grip tightened on her cup. She could feel her cheeks heating up.
‘How about Lawrie, what?’ Jonas asked impatiently.
It was odd, being back with the two of them and yet apart, now an outsider. Lawrie took a deep breath and leant back in her chair, affecting a confidence she was far from feeling.
‘For Wave Fest, of course. No—listen,’ Fliss said, jumping to her feet and grabbing Jonas’s arm as he turned dismissively away. ‘She’s on gardening leave for the rest of the summer.’
‘Gardening what?’ He stopped and looked back at the table, catching Lawrie’s eye, a sudden glint of a humour in the stern blue eyes.
She knew exactly what he was thinking—knew that he was remembering her ability to kill every plant with a mixture of forgetful indifference and remorseful over-watering.
‘Is this some sort of corporate environmental thing? Time to learn how to garden?’
‘No, it’s a set period time to serve out your notice away from the office,’ Lawrie said, her own eyes warming in response to his and her pulse speeding up as his amused gaze continued to bore into her. ‘I’m on paid leave until the end of September.’
‘And she’s planning to stay in Cornwall most of that time,’ Fliss interjected.
‘Well, yes. I am. But I’m arranging my next move. I’ll be travelling back and forth to London a lot—possibly overseas. What’s Wave Fest, anyway?’
‘Oh, Lawrie, you remember the festival Jonas and I started, don’t you?’
‘Actually, Fliss, Lawrie was never at Wave Fest. She was on work placements for the first two.’
The humour had left Jonas’s face. It was as if the sun had unexpectedly disappeared behind a cloud. He didn’t say the words she knew he was thinking. She had left before the third.
‘I know we’re desperate, but Lawrie’s a solicitor, not a project manager—and she knows nothing about festivals.’
‘But we need someone organised who can get things done and she can do that all right. Plus, she’s here and she’s available.’
‘Fliss, you said yourself that at this time of year organising Wave Fest is a full-time job. If Lawrie’s got to sort out a move—’ the sharp blue eyes regarded Lawri
e for an intent moment before flicking away ‘—she won’t be able to dedicate the time we need to it.’
‘Yes, for me it would be full time, because I have a neglected husband and the work of three people to do anyway, but Lawrie’s used to city hours—this will be a relaxing break for her!’
It was almost amusing, listening to them bicker over her as if she wasn’t there. Lawrie took another sip of her coffee, letting the words wash over her. After the shock of the last week it felt nice to be wanted, even if it was for a small-time job she had no intention of doing.
Suddenly she was aware of an extended silence and looked up to find two pairs of eyes fixed on her expectantly.
‘What?’
‘I was just asking why you are on leave?’ Jonas said, with the exaggerated patience of somebody who had asked a question several times already. ‘If “gardening leave” means you’re serving out your notice then you must be leaving your firm—why?’
The all too familiar sense of panic rose up inside her, filling her chest with an aching, squeezing tension. None of this was real. It was some kind of terrible dream and she would soon wake up and find Hugo snoring beside her and her pressed suit hung on the wardrobe door opposite, ready for another day at work, doing a job she was darned good at.
‘I felt like a change,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. ‘They were offering good severance deals and I thought, what with turning thirty and everything, that this could be a good opportunity for a new start. After all, it seems silly to specialise in international law and never spend time abroad. I have lots of contacts in New York, so that seems like the logical choice.’
She had repeated the words so often to herself that she almost believed them now.
‘That sounds amazing,’ breathed Fliss, but Jonas looked more sceptical.
‘You deviated from that all-important ten-point plan? Wasn’t thirty the year you should have made partner?’
He remembered the plan. Of course he remembered it—she had gone over it with him enough, been teased about it enough. ‘Lawrie needs to make a plan before we go out for a walk,’ he used to tell people.
She took a deep breath and forced a casual tone into her voice. ‘People change, Jonas. I followed the plan for long enough, and it was very successful, but I decided that now I’m single again it might be time to see something of the world and enhance my career at the same time. It’s no big deal.’
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t pursue the point.
‘But you won’t be able to start your new job until after September so you are free to help out with Wave Fest.’ Fliss wasn’t giving up.
‘Fliss, Lawrie isn’t interested in the festival; she has a job to find. Plus, if she’s still being paid by her firm then she won’t be able to work for us—will you?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘It’s not law, so it’s not a conflict of interest, but I don’t think I can take paid work whilst on gardening leave. I’ll have to check the contract, but it would be unusual if it was allowed.’
‘Volunteer! We could pay your expenses and it would look great on your CV, using your time to help out with a charity event. Come on, Lawrie. It’s total serendipity, you being here just when we need you. You can’t argue with fate!’
‘Fliss!’
Jonas was sounding annoyed, but the word ‘volunteer’ had struck a chord with Lawrie. She tuned the pair out.
She liked to keep busy, and the thought of spending the forseeable future with nothing to do but job-hunt terrified her. Besides, her CV was already with the best recruiters in the business, so there was little she could do until they got in touch. Most importantly she had been racking her brains, searching for a likely explanation for her sudden departure from Forrest, Gable & Garner that prospective employers would find acceptable—laudable, even. If she could tell them that she’d taken the opportunity of severance to help out with a charity festival surely that would stand her in good stead? Every company liked a bit of free CSR in these straitened times.
Okay, it wasn’t part of the ten-point plan, but which part of the last few weeks had been? Not finding Hugo labouring over his naked secretary, not watching the senior partners close ranks as they took his side and forced her out with a nice settlement and a good reference for keeping her mouth shut.
She had returned to Trengarth to lick her wounds, to regroup. Why not wring something positive out of her situation?
‘Please?’ Fliss looked pleading. ‘Come on, Lawrie, you’ll be perfect.’
‘I’ll do it.’ The words left her mouth before she knew exactly what she was going to say.
Fliss squealed and flung her arms around Lawrie, but Jonas took a step back, his mouth tight, his eyes unreadable.
What have I done?
‘If that’s okay with you, of course, Jonas,’ she added, not entirely sure what she wanted his answer to be—whether he would give her a get-out clause she didn’t even know she needed. But he didn’t answer—just continued to look at her with the same cool, steady regard.
Fliss jumped in before the silence stretched too far, got too awkward. ‘It’s fine, isn’t it, Jonas? This is fantastic! I was going to get all the stuff from Suzy today, but why don’t you come with me and meet her? Is tomorrow okay? Oh, Lawrie, it’ll be just like old times, us working together.’
Fliss beamed at Lawrie, who couldn’t help but smile back. Her old friend’s joy was infectious.
‘It looks like that’s settled, then.’ Jonas’s face was still blank, his voice cool and professional. ‘Lawrie, I’ll chat to you tomorrow and go over the work involved, discuss how this will work as a volunteering role. Be sure this is something you can take on, though. Wave Fest raises tens of thousands for local charities. If you can’t manage it it’s imperative you let us know sooner rather than later.’
He sounded dismissive—as if he was expecting her to fail, to walk away.
How dared he? She’d negotiated million-pound contracts, painstakingly going over every single word, scrutinising each clause, routinely working sixty-hour weeks, often on short notice. One month sorting out a small local event would hardly tax her.
She lifted her head and looked straight at him, matching him cool glance for cool glance, every bit the professional, well-trained lawyer. ‘I’m sure I’ll manage. I like to see things through.’
He kept her gaze, scorn filling the blue eyes, turning them ice-cold. ‘I’m sure you’ve grown up,’ he said. ‘But if there’s a chance you’ll get a job and leave before the contract ends I need to know. Promises aren’t enough.’
She swallowed down her rage. If she had learnt anything from long hours of negotiating complex contracts it was how to keep her temper, no matter what the provocation. If he wanted to judge her on events that had happened nine years ago, so be it.
But she had promised to love him till death did them part. And that promise she had broken.
Did she actually need this hassle? The sensible thing would be to walk away, right now, lock up the cottage and go back to London. But then what? She had nowhere to live, nothing to do. At least in Cornwall she had a house, and now a way to occupy her time whilst finding the perfect job, getting her life back to the calm, ordered way it was supposed to be. And if that meant showing Jonas Jones that he was wrong—that the past wasn’t as clear-cut as he obviously thought—well, that was just a bonus.
She smiled sweetly into the freezing eyes.
‘I’ll need to take time to sort out my move, of course,’ she said, proud that her voice was steady. ‘And there is a chance that I may need to travel abroad for interviews. But there will be plenty of notice. There shouldn’t—there won’t be a problem.’
‘Then I’ll see you tomorrow.’
The interview was clearly over.
‘Enjoy the rest of your birthday.’
Fliss looked up in shock. ‘It’s your birthday? Here I am, thinking about spreadsheets and emails and offices, and what I should be doing is ordering you a c
ocktail to go with that cake. What are you doing later? I’m sure you have plans, but we could meet here for cocktails first?’
Lawrie’s first instinct was to lie—to claim company, plans, unavailability. But Jonas had stopped, turned, was listening, and she couldn’t let him know she was ashamed of her lone state. ‘Actually, Fliss, I was planning a quiet one this year. I have a nice bottle of red and a good book saved up.’
It was the truth, and she had been looking forward to indulging in both. So why did it feel like a confession?
‘A good book? I know you’ve been gone a long time, but nobody changes that much. Of course we’re going to celebrate. I’ll see you here for cocktails at seven, and then there’s Open Mic Night later. Perfect! Jonas, you can pick her up. We don’t want the birthday girl to be late.’
‘Honestly—’ Lawrie began, not sure what panicked her more: Jonas picking her up like old times, the chance that she might let her guard down after a cocktail, or spending her thirtieth birthday with the same people who had celebrated her eighteenth. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Jonas’s expression was indecipherable, his voice emotionless. ‘Fliss is right. You can’t spend your birthday alone. Besides, you used to enjoy singing. It’ll be just like old times.’
And that, thought Lawrie, was exactly what she was afraid of.
CHAPTER TWO
‘SO THIS IS where you’re hiding.’
Jonas looked far too at home as he rounded the corner of Gran’s cottage. And far too attractive in a pair of worn jeans that hugged his legs in all the right places, and a plain grey T-shirt emphasising his lean strength. ‘I thought you had run away.’
‘I thought about it,’ Lawrie admitted, tugging at the hem of her skirt self-consciously.
It shouldn’t take a grown woman two hours to get ready for a few drinks and some badly played guitar, and yet Lawrie had found herself paralysed by indecision. Her clothes were too conservative, too expensive, more suited to a discreet yet expensive restaurant or a professional conference than a small Cornish village.
The Return of Mrs. Jones Page 2
