When she continued to sit there but didn’t speak Owen swivelled his chair around to face her. ‘Something else on your mind?’
Keeping her eyes focused on the ceiling, Alex said, ‘You’re off down to the coast again this weekend.’
‘That’s right. I need to finalise the restaurant deal I told you about.’ Tilting back his seat, Owen crossed his feet at the ankles. ‘Is that a problem?’
Alex shrugged. ‘Not for me to say, is it, Boss?’
Owen told her what he thought of that with a sharply raised eyebrow. ‘Bollocks. If you’ve got something on your mind, spit it out.’ When he’d first started the company, Owen had been very conscious about watching his language. He wasn’t a labourer on site anymore, and he wanted to cultivate a professional environment. He’d stuck to it religiously, until the day he’d come across Alex in the stairwell ranting to herself about an unreliable supplier before she tackled a call with them. He’d given her points for creativity, and they’d agreed to speak frankly to each other behind closed doors.
‘Well, it just seems like you’re spreading yourself a bit thin. You’re in here every morning before me, and when Nick and I drove past last night after we’d been out to the pictures, your office light was still on.’ Alex glanced away, then back. ‘I don’t get the fascination of this Lavender Bay. I had a look online and it looks like any other little coastal town.’
Alex knew a bit about Owen’s background, but not all the gory details, and that’s how Owen intended it to stay. ‘It’s personal,’ he said, knowing that would be enough to shut her down.
He turned his mind back to the issue at hand. His business was exactly that—both professionally and privately—but that didn’t mean he could do what he liked and stuff the consequences. He couldn’t be in two places at once, and for all the hours he’d put in that week his thoughts had never been off Lavender Bay for more than a handful of minutes at a time, especially one particular resident. This thing with Libby—not that he was even sure it was a thing—was fast becoming an obsession. ‘If you think its’s becoming a serious issue, I expect you to tell me, okay?’
‘Fair enough.’ Alex stood. ‘You’ll be back on Wednesday?’
He nodded. ‘That’s the plan. Hey, Alex?’
His assistant paused at the door. ‘Yes, Boss?’
‘How would you feel about a bit more responsibility around here?’
Alex took a step back into the room. ‘How much are we talking about?’
‘A desk in here, a stake in the company, too, if you want it. We’d have to sit down with the accountant and work it all out so you understand what you’d be agreeing to. There’d be more reward, but potentially more risk to your income so I won’t push you into anything. If you’d rather remain a straight employee, we can come up with a package to reflect your extra responsibility.’
The glow of pride on Alex’s face lifted something in Owen’s heart. She’d proven her loyalty time and again, and it shouldn’t have taken a turning point in his own life for Owen to reward her for it. It would also take the weight off his shoulders and give him room to breathe, to devote the time he wanted to on his new venture with Sam. He’d been office bound for too long and getting his hands dirty again felt damn good.
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t need to say anything yet. Talk it over with Nick this weekend and let me know what you think next week. And if you can talk him into giving up his other clients and coming on board full-time with us, I reckon we can make that work too.’ Her excitement dimmed a little, and he thought about what he’d just said, and how it might be misconstrued. ‘One isn’t dependent upon the other, Alex. You’ve more than earned a step-up to partner.’
She brightened. ‘That’s fantastic, really fantastic. Thanks, Boss,’ Alex said.
Rising, Owen offered his hand. ‘It’s Owen from now on.’
Her grin could’ve lit up half of London. ‘Cheers, Owen. You won’t regret this, I promise.’ They shook hands. ‘Right, I’d better go and get on with some work. Don’t worry about anything here while you’re away, I’ll keep on top of everything.’
Owen knew she would, but he didn’t want Alex to feel like he was dumping everything in her lap. ‘I’ll have my phone with me. Don’t feel the need to check in, but if anything comes up that you want to bounce off me, just call.’
‘I’d better give Nick a ring, too, tell him to put a bottle in the fridge as we’ll be celebrating tonight. I might even see if he fancies a weekend away some time before I get too busy.’ She beamed at Owen. ‘Anywhere you’d recommend, a nice little spot beside the sea somewhere?’ Laughing, they shook hands again then Alex left with a decided spring in her step.
Settling back at his desk, Owen picked up his pen and turned his attention back to the project file he was reviewing. As much as he trusted Alex, he wanted everything squared away before his evening train.
‘There you are! We were about ready to send a search party out for you. Are you hungry? I’ve set a plate aside for you because I thought you might be hungry, or maybe you ate on the train? Either way, you sit yourself down, love, and have a drink. I’ve just rung the bell for last orders, but it’s my pub so I can do as I please.’ Owen let the flood of words from Annie Barnes wash over him like a soothing balm. It wasn’t so much what she said as the way she said it, with real concern as though he was part of the family and not an occasional guest.
The trip down had been a nightmare thanks to a broken air-conditioner in his carriage and a previous service cancellation, so he’d ended up sitting in the corridor for the best part of five hours. He’d stuffed his suit jacket and tie in his bag and rolled up his sleeves, but his cotton shirt still clung to him like a wet rag. He needed a shower and a change of clothes, and possibly a deep tissue massage to get the kinks out of his back, but he needed the foaming pint of lager Annie placed on the bar in front of him more. ‘Thanks, Mrs Barnes, you’re a lifesaver.’ Dropping his bags at his feet, Owen eased his numb arse onto a stool then took a deep draft from his glass.
‘Hello, son. We’d about given you up as a lost cause. Here, shall I put those up in your room for you?’ Annie’s husband, Paul, appeared at his side looking better than the last time Owen had seen him. He’d caught the sun, and the greyish pallor to his skin had given way to a deep summer tan. He didn’t know the ins and outs of Paul’s health problems, but Sam had mentioned a chronic lung condition had laid his dad low the previous year.
‘I can manage them, Mr Barnes. Just let me wash away the dust of the day with this pint and I’ll get them out of the way.’ Owen nudged his bags closer to the bar with his foot.
‘They’re fine where they are, love, and so are you,’ Annie interjected from the other side of the bar. ‘Sit as long as you like. Did you want that plate?’
The heat in the packed pub wasn’t any less stifling than the train had been. And it was noisy, to boot. Head throbbing, Owen placed a hand on his belly as it gave an uneasy rumble. The sandwich and crisps he’d grabbed on the way through the station felt like a long time ago, but he was too tired to think about eating just then. If he didn’t have anything, though, he’d likely regret it when he woke up starving at 3 a.m. ‘Maybe in a few minutes?’
Annie gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘Why don’t you take that drink up with you and have a shower?’
‘Come on, son, I’ll give you a hand with these and when you’re ready you can join me in the kitchen and we’ll see about your supper.’ Paul placed a fleeting hand on Owen’s shoulder then bent to retrieve the laptop bag and suit carrier from the floor. Too tired to argue, Owen hefted his holdall in one hand, grabbed his pint with the other and followed his host towards the back stairs.
Showered and changed into a pair of baggy cotton shorts and T-shirt, Owen paused at the door to the Barnes family kitchen. ‘All right to come in?’
Paul glanced up from where he was bent over by the oven ‘Of course it is. I’ve just turned this up,
won’t be long now.’ He crossed to the fridge and opened it. ‘Fancy another beer?’
‘Yes, please.’ Owen sank down into one of the kitchen chairs and sprawled his legs out in front of him. ‘Thanks,’ he said, acknowledging the can Paul set down before him. ‘You didn’t have to go to any trouble.’
‘No trouble, son. Sam’s next door with Beth, said to let you know he’ll be back first thing.’ Paul eased himself into the chair opposite and popped the ring on his own can of beer. ‘He’s talked non-stop about you agreeing to come on board with him about the restaurant. I don’t think he can quite believe it.’
Catching the hint of concern, Owen put down his drink and sat forward. ‘I’m deadly serious about working with him, Mr Barnes, you don’t have to worry I might change my mind or let him down. That’s just not who I am. Once I set my mind to something, I see it through.’
‘Well, I had to check. Doesn’t matter how old they get, I still worry about him and Eliza both. Probably more so now than when they were little. A grazed knee or a slipped bike chain were a lot easier to fix than broken hearts and broken marriages.’
Though he had no experience of it himself, the love Paul held for his children was plain to see. ‘Sam and Eliza are lucky to have you and Mrs Barnes in their corner.’
Paul shrugged off the compliment, though there was no hiding the little smile on his lips. ‘They’re good kids, for all their ups and downs. And what about you, son, who’s in your corner?’
‘I manage all right for myself.’ Owen swigged a mouthful of beer before he said too much.
‘That’s no good, you’ve got to have people around who support you. Independence is a fine thing, but not to the point of isolation.’
Owen tried not to let his irritation show. He knew the man meant well, but every word only served to underline what life might have been like had his mother not given him away without a second thought. ‘Not everyone gets the choice, though.’
‘True enough, son.’ Paul pushed to his feet. ‘Well, let’s see how this dinner is looking.’
A few minutes later, Owen found himself facing a heaped plate of chicken and pasta in a rich, creamy sauce. The fragrant steam rising up wove around his senses and set his stomach rumbling once more. ‘This looks great.’
Setting himself down with a small piece of cheese and a couple of water biscuits, Paul smiled. ‘Annie thought it would be the easiest thing to warm up for you without sitting too heavy after a long day. How was the journey down?’
Between mouthfuls of the delicious food and another can of beer Owen described his nightmare trip. The conversation segued naturally into talking about the rest of his day and then onto the current projects his company was running. Paul proved an easy sounding board and they were still deep in conversation when Annie wandered in later.
‘The bar’s sorted. I’ll need a hand to put the chairs up tomorrow morning before I do the floors, but everything else is wiped down and the dishwasher’s on.’ She bustled over to the table, still seemingly full of energy even after a long evening shift. ‘Did you enjoy your dinner?’ she asked as she removed Owen’s empty plate.
‘It was perfect, thank you. And thanks again for thinking of me.’
She waved him off. ‘It’s no bother at all. Right, shall I put the kettle on?’
Paul rose and took the plate from her. ‘Give me that. You sit down and I’ll make the tea. You should’ve given me a shout and I’d have helped you downstairs.’
Annie patted his cheek before taking a seat. ‘I know you would’ve, but I was quite happy pottering around on my own. Nice to have a bit of peace and quiet after all that noise. Besides it gave me time to catch up on The Archers.’
It was all so bloody normal, and yet as alien to Owen as the perfect sitcom families he’d grown up envying on the television. Feeling like an interloper, he pulled out his phone and tried to focus on an email which had arrived from Alex. Worried that a problem had cropped up already, he was relieved to see it was just an update to say Johnno’s wife had had a little girl and both mother and baby were doing fine. He tapped out a quick reply authorising a gift basket and some flowers to be sent, then glanced up to find Annie watching him.
‘Good news?’
It was only then Owen realised he was beaming from ear to ear. ‘What? Oh, yeah, one of the guys at work has just had a baby. Well, his wife has, I mean. It was a bit of an emergency but sounds like everything’s worked out fine.’
‘Well, that’s a great way to end the day.’
Paul placed a pair of mugs down in front of them, returned a few moments later with his own and resumed his seat. After sharing a quick glace with his wife, he turned to Owen. ‘There’s something we wanted to talk to you about.’
Owen frowned. What else was there to talk about? ‘Look, Mr Barnes, I already told you I’m committed to the restaurant project, there’s no need to worry.’
‘Yes, I know and I’ve taken you at your word, son. This kind of follows on from that.’
‘What Paul’s trying to say is you’ll likely be spending a lot more time down here and it’s not always easy to make sure there’s a room available for you. We’re already booked up for the rest of the season and we don’t like to turn anyone away.’
Damn. He should’ve thought of that instead of just assuming he could come and go as he pleased. ‘I’m sorry to put you in an awkward position, I’ll find myself somewhere else to stay.’
‘Oh dear, we’re not going about this the right way at all. We don’t want you to find somewhere else to stay, we want you to stay with us.’
Thoroughly confused, Owen looked from Annie to Paul. ‘I don’t understand, you just told me you’re fully booked.’
‘Well, on the guest room side of things we are, but now that Sam’s spending his nights next door with Beth, we thought you might like to use his room when you visit. You can leave some clothing, a wash kit and whatever; that way you can come and go as you need to.’
Taken aback, he took a mouthful of coffee to cover his confusion. They hardly knew him and yet were inviting him to share a part of their home with them. ‘Are…are you sure?’
‘Of course we are, love. We had a family meeting about it, and everyone thinks it’s the most practical solution with you likely to be toing and froing over the next few months.’ Annie reached across the table to pat the back of his hand. It was only a fleeting touch, the kind of thing these people shared dozens of times a day and yet it reached deep inside Owen and stirred some unknown longing.
‘I…I’m not sure what to say.’
The kind smile on Annie’s face slipped. ‘Unless, you don’t want to?’ She exchanged a quick glance with her husband. ‘We should have considered you might want to retain your privacy, not be lumped in with the rest of us.’ God, she was deflating before him like a tyre leaking air from a slow puncture. ‘Well, if you could try and work out your schedule for the next couple of months then we can make sure we have one of the guest rooms available.’
And turn business away, just because he didn’t know how to accept an act of kindness. ‘No, no, don’t do that. Honestly, it’d be fantastic if I could use Sam’s room, it’ll save me so much hassle not having to lug my kit back and forth all the time. I just wasn’t expecting it.’
You’d think he’d given them the Crown jewels the way they were beaming at him. Was this what normal people were like? Doing things for no other reason than to make someone else’s life a bit easier? ‘I’ll pay you board, of course.’
‘You most certainly will not! We didn’t suggest this so we could make extra money.’ Paul looked mutinous.
Owen held his hands up. ‘I didn’t think that for one moment, but I won’t take advantage of your kindness. You must let me contribute something, at least towards meals.’
‘Well, I suppose that’d be all right.’ Annie sounded slightly miffed about it and Owen knew he’d have his work cut out trying to get her to accept a penny. He’d do it though. He always p
aid his way.
And, as generous as the Barnes’ offer was, it created another problem for him. With enough persuasion, he might have persuaded Libby to sneak up through the guest entrance and into his room, but he couldn’t imagine any circumstances where she’d be willing to spend the night with him ensconced in the heart of the family quarters above the pub. He’d have to come up with another solution. It took him the rest of his cup of coffee before the perfect idea struck him. ‘As I’m going to be spending more time here, I really need to find a space I can work in. It doesn’t have to be big, but I need to be able to secure it.’
Paul frowned. ‘I’m not sure what to suggest, we don’t really go in for hot desking around here.’
‘Hot desking, listen to Alan Sugar over there!’ Annie snorted.
Owen grinned. He loved the way they teased each other. There was a familiarity to it which spoke to a lifetime of shared moments and memories. ‘I’m not looking to establish an empire, just a quiet space where I can focus on my work.’ And other things. ‘Hmm.’ He considered tapping his lip, but decided that would be overkill. ‘Do you know anything about those little beach huts along the front?’
Chapter 8
Waking up the previous Sunday morning in a haze of panic and morning-after-the-night-before regrets, Libby had told her dad she had a migraine and spent the day hiding in her room. The first time she’d spotted Owen through a crack in the curtains, she’d ducked away then cursed herself for being a coward. Positioning herself on the window seat so she could see out without being seen, she’d been by turns shocked, excited and finally charmed as he reappeared on the promenade at various times over the day. Torn between wanting to run out and leap into his arms and having to confess to her dad she’d lied to him, Libby had stayed put, consoled with the thought he’d be back the following weekend.
The rest of the week had passed in an agony of indecision and self-recriminations. She had no way of contacting Owen as they hadn’t got around to exchanging numbers—whether this had been a deliberate act on his part became yet another question she’d tortured herself with. She could’ve asked Sam, but how to justify wanting the details for someone she’d professed such a strong dislike for without giving the whole bloody game away? And what was she going to say to him even if she could contact him? One minute she was desperate to lay eyes—and other things—on him, the next she hoped never to see him again. Only that wasn’t going to happen, was it, because he was back in the bay again for the weekend.
Snowflakes at Lavender Bay Page 7
