Honorable Intentions

by Pauline Saull

  Chapter Two

  Justin in the front office, now having been told the situation, was eager to help in the clear up. When he was not dealing with the small bit of current business he came into the back to help Suzy.

  “God!” she exclaimed. “Look at this lot.” They were going through the filing cabinets and cupboards in an attempt to tidy up years and years of dusty contracts.

  “Won’t take long,” Justin said cheerfully. “I’m quite excited about the future, Suzy, and you know I really appreciate what your dad did for me. Telling Jake Mason that should the deal go through, he’d like me to be kept on was great of him.”

  “Yeah.” Suzy smiled. “He thinks you’re worth it.”

  Justin gave a modest little bow. “Nice to hear. You know, I’ve loved working here through the busy times, and I’m sure they’ll be back, you know…that just like the phoenix, Porterhouse will rise from the ashes?”

  It made Suzy smile. Hopefully he would be proved right. She looked around her. The office looked sad, drab, and dreary. How could she not have noticed before the threadbare carpet, the out of date furnishings, and of course the almost empty window? Gone were the days when the window was full of posters, proudly displaying houses for sale. Plus, the doorbell very rarely rang with prospective buyers or sellers these days.

  On the floor in the corner Suzy kept the back issues of the Property Periodical and suddenly decided to go through them, vaguely remembering there had been an article about Jake Mason quite recently. She had only skimmed through it at the time, totally uninterested in the megalomaniac who was buying up every spare piece of land he could get his hands on.

  Now, if she was going to be working for him, she wanted to know everything about the man. Leaving Justin to get on with the job, she started going through the stack, and not very far down found what she was looking for. Taking it to her desk, she studied the small photograph of him on one of his building sites, but as he was wearing a hard hat it was difficult to make out his features properly. He appeared, though, to be frowning, which didn’t surprise her. She imagined he probably had a temper to match his ego.

  Suzy read the article thoroughly and when she’d finished sat back with a sigh. Just as she’d thought.

  The writer of the article―Suzy checked again, Amanda Roll―clearly had the same opinion of him as herself. She clicked Google on her laptop and entered his name. There it was―the information, no doubt chosen carefully by him, of his career and successes so far. A photo showed him leaning over the rail of a yacht anchored in an azure blue tropical sea. A smiling, leggy, bikini-clad blonde had her arms draped around him, and a dark-haired girl in an equally tiny bikini leaned provocatively into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. The photo appeared to have been taken somewhere very exotic and expensive. Suzy closed the page irritably. Good looking men with women hanging onto them really cheesed her off.

  “Need me for anything else, Suzy?” Justin asked. “I think I’ve cleared everything back to the nineties.” He grinned at the black plastic bags bulging with files. “Getting rid of them should be fun.”

  “Yeah. I’ll call the council. You get off now, and thanks for that. Millie all right?”

  Justin rolled his eyes. “She’s complaining loudly, said she feels like an elephant.”

  Suzy laughed. “Has she gone over the date now?”

  “As of today our baby is officially one day late. The doc said she can do a few more yet though. Hopefully he or she arrives before the big changes take place. See you tomorrow afternoon. Good luck with the meeting.”

  The door closed behind him and Suzy stared at the picture of Daniel Porter, her grandfather, on the wall. Next to him was the watercolor of her great-grandfather, Simon. She was sitting at the desk which had come down from them.

  What, she wondered, would you two make of all this?

  The situation her family was now in secretly appalled her, but it was something she was just going to have to learn to cope with. If this so-called takeover took place, she would keep her head down, get on with her work, and hope against hope that Jake Mason stayed out of the way and left her to it. If she could just stick with it until she found something else… Her gaze wandered to the window. But what else was she equipped to do other than real estate? She put the paper aside with a sigh.

  At five-thirty, with no further appointments, Suzy collected her bag, locked the office, and climbed into her car. What she needed right now was distraction and a lift of spirits, and there was only one person equipped to provide both.

  »»•««

  Mary Smith had been Suzy’s friend since school. At fifteen she’d decided she no longer wanted to be called Mary and had changed her name to India instead. This was due to her love for all things exotic, especially anything relating to the sub-continent, hence her name. An innovative, expressive potter with a rapidly growing client base, she lived in splendid isolation in a tiny gorgeously untidy cottage on the edge of Dartmoor. Suzy swung her car down the rutted track, feeling lighter already. She drove slowly past the assortment of animals India kept for her dietary needs; Henrietta, who laid copious amounts of eggs, Ron the cockerel, busy scratching in the dirt, and Howie the goat who always jumped on Suzy’s car hood, but who she forgave because he produced such tasty cheese. Mildred the Jersey cow watched solemnly from her paddock as she chewed the cud. Suzy clambered from her car and walked to the potting shed behind the cottage.

  “India?”

  “Hi doll.” India appeared wiping her hands down her long, clay-covered apron. “How are you?” She hugged Suzy warmly.

  “In need of a bit of India, the pottery and animals.”

  India laughed. “Well, come on in, we’ll start here.” She led the way into the shed. “Look at my latest firing. I’m thrilled to bits with it.”

  “Oh my gosh! That is gorgeous.” Suzy picked up the large, delicately patterned platter, the raised motif of Henrietta proudly in the center. “I love it. Will you send it into Truro?”

  India nodded. “I’ve already sent La Gallerie a photo, they’re dead keen for more items.”

  “You’ve done so well. I’m really proud of you,” Suzy said warmly.

  “Ta, doll. It’s called surviving actually. When Bernie left I thought life wasn’t worth living, but the pottery gave me a feeling of self-esteem back. Something,” she added, raising her eyebrows, “I was sadly lacking in when I was with him. Right. Pottery’s done. India is all ears, and as for the animals, how about I make us a Howie cheese omelet with a salad, and you can tell me why you’ve really come.”

  They linked arms, and Suzy laughed. “You know me far too well,” she said.

  In India’s kitchen, Suzy moved Sanderson, the cameo cat, off the work bench, wiped it down, and after collecting lettuce, tomatoes, radish, and spring onions from India’s basket, started preparing the salad.

  India opened a bottle of her elderberry wine and poured two glasses. She passed one to Suzy. “You look like you need this. Come on, spill the beans.”

  Suzy sighed. “I’m feeling quite sad. My parents told me over the weekend what deep down I knew was coming, but really didn’t want to hear. The business is going under. Dad has two choices, close it or sell out. And of course as it’s always been a family business, selling to a stranger has been a difficult decision for them.”

  “Oh, Suze! That’s such a shame. Porterhouse has been there forever, hasn’t it? So what will happen?” She flipped the omelet expertly.

  “Well, there’s no doubt they will sell, though I suspect part of that decision is an attempt to keep me in a job. Which I really do appreciate. Gosh, India I can’t believe what a selfish so-and-so I’ve been, fraught with the idea of losing my cottage when they’re about to lose everything. Do you think I’m spoiled?”

  “No. Course I don’t. That’s the last thing I’d ever call you. You just haven’t been properly aware that’s all. Probably because your mum and dad tried to keep things hidden from you.”
<
br />   “I suppose. Anyway, if it does go ahead I’m not losing my job, I’ll apparently be actually better off, on a salary, managing the office, but…”

  India laid two plates on the table. “Sit and eat. But what?”

  “It’s who Dad is probably going to sell to. From what I know of the man he would be the last person I’d choose. In the stuff I’ve read, he comes over as a ruthless business man. Dad disagrees because he has a lot of respect for the guy’s father,” Suzy said as she cut into her omelet, “but I feel very unsure.”

  “Who is he?”

  “He’s called Jake Mason. He owns a huge development company in Launceston and an equally huge house on Melville Hill. No doubt his head is in proportion with it.”

  “Oops. Sounds nasty. Have you Googled him?”

  “Mm. He has apparently begun branching out into other things now, property in the Caribbean, especially on small islands so there was quite a lot of stuff about that. He had a mediocre schooling, shone at architectural drawing, but wasn’t a star pupil and left school early against his father’s wishes. This was followed by surprisingly rapid success in the Middle East which made him very wealthy. I don’t think I’ll last five minutes working for him. This is yummy.”

  “Thanks. But you know, I do seem to recall that name.” India gazed out of the window thoughtfully. “Though how I could have possibly heard about a wealthy property developer stuck down here beats me…No, wait.” She put her knife and fork down. “Remember when I did that fair in Covent Garden, when I sold those two huge vases? Well, I’m pretty sure the man who bought them for his parent’s wedding anniversary, was called Mason. The reason I do recall the name now is because I asked if he was related to the Mason family, you know, the ceramics company? He laughed and said he wished. He did,” India added, “appear to be a bit of all right.”

  “That makes me feel a little better…not the all right bit! But anyone who appreciates your pots can’t be too bad. Pour me another glass, India. Okay if I stay the night, it’s pretty strong stuff?”

  Chapter Three

  After dashing home from India’s at eight in the morning, Suzy let herself into her cottage, situated at the bottom of a quiet lane on the outskirts of the small village of Mawdsley. She loved its quaintness with the views over the valley from her small back garden, though sometimes after spending time at India’s place it did feel a little soulless, but she adored it with a passion and dreaded the idea of losing it. She looked around her sparsely furnished living room, which definitely needed more furniture…an armchair, a TV, and a coffee table just weren’t enough. But for the foreseeable future, with her bank balance seriously in arrears and the probability of the bank owning the house instead of her before very long, any additional furnishings were out of the question. Her parents had offered some of their own furniture if the deal came off and they moved to Spain, and that was the best she could hope for. She threw her bag onto the coffee table, checked the answering machine, and went upstairs to get ready.

  Suzy showered quickly, mindful of the electric bill due any day, but still relishing the brief spell of hot water beating down on her aching head. India’s elderberry wine had made her sleep late and heavily, something she was not used to.

  Toweling off, she smiled, recalling the hilarious, slightly boozy night they’d had trawling up memories from their time at school, something they didn’t always have the leisure to do these days. It had been good to take her mind off the present worries for a while, and India’s final advice as they cleared up for the night.

  “Take this buyout as an opportunity, Suze,” she’d advised. “Because imagine, if the guy hadn’t come along with his offer, where would you all be?”

  She took extra care dressing for the forthcoming meeting with Jake Mason, choosing a silk, moss green skirt which sat perfectly on her hips, flaring out softly just below the knee, and to go with it a sleeveless white knit top, both bought when times had been good. Her mane of deep auburn curls she pulled with both hands into a thick bun. It had become a habit over the years, whenever she felt the need to assert herself in what could sometimes be male dominated situations, to scrape it back tightly. It had the effect of making her look older than her twenty-six years, and, she felt, a little less likely to be put upon. Looking at her reflection now, she saw wary hazel eyes, a small freckled nose, and a full though tense mouth. The image was of a pale, severe looking young woman. Abruptly she let her hair fall, pulling the dark curls around her face and fluffing them out. Taking a pad of bronze eye shadow, she applied a delicate touch to her lids and then added a dash of pale coral lipstick and studied her image again. Better, but only just.

  Searching in her drawer she pulled out a pair of silver hoop earrings which hadn’t seen the light of day for many years. Putting them on immediately altered her appearance. She looked confident, sexy, and in no doubt of what she was…a woman not to be browbeaten by any man.

  And most definitely not by a man with the reputation of Jake Mason.

  ∙•∙

  Jake drove through town slowly. He was early and felt strangely on edge. He’d nicked his face shaving and still had a piece of paper stuck over the cut. Stopping at traffic lights, he looked in the mirror, saw the frown lines on his forehead, the taut lines of his mouth with the strip of paper beside it, and cursed softly as the car behind honked for him to move on.

  Wetting his finger he drove off, rubbing at the paper until it came away. A quick glance in the mirror told him he looked no better tempered. He fervently wished he hadn’t chosen the pinstripe suit for the meeting which made him feel constricted and overdressed, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He loosened his tie slightly, opened the top button on his shirt, and then untied the tie and dragged it off. Dropping it on the seat beside him made him feel marginally better.

  He thought back to what Amanda had tactfully suggested at lunch when he’d finally relented and confided in her about the forthcoming meeting, that perhaps he should treat the daughter with kid gloves. He smiled ruefully, for if this unknown Suzy Porter could get him into the state he was in right now, Jake had the feeling boxing gloves might be more appropriate. He straightened his shirt collar fractionally, smoothed back his hair and began looking for a parking space.

  »»•««

  “Well! Isn’t this just typical,” Suzy fumed, hands on hips. She looked out of the office window again, at the street busy with passersby. “Not a dratted sign of him. To be ten minutes late for such an important first meeting just isn’t good enough, Dad. It’s precisely what I expected from him…keeping us waiting, make us nervy. He’ll be perfectly aware he has us with our backs against the wall. I’m livid.”

  “Now, now, love, calm down. Let’s not jump the gun. Anything could have happened…and I’m not nervy, nor angry.” Tom tapped his pencil on the desk. “But I would like,” he added, “for you not to prowl the office like a caged cat.”

  Suzy ignored that. “And what’s wrong with a phone call?” She swung round, eyes glittering. ”That’s if he can use one…no doubt the secretaries do everything for him. Well, I’ll give him five more minutes and then I’m off. I’m not sitting around waiting for him.” She flopped into the chair behind the door

  “But he’s only ten minutes…” Tom stopped as the door opened and Justin entered, holding it back.

  “Jake Mason to see you, Tom,” he said. And leaning in slightly around the door, he winked at Suzy.

  “Good morning, Tom.” Jake Mason, a smile on his face, strode to the desk and laid an extravagantly ornate bunch of flowers and bottle of champagne down. He held out his hand and shook Tom’s offered one vigorously.

  Suzy coughed and he swung round.

  “My daughter, Suzy,” Tom said. Jake turned, looking at her where she sat, legs crossed in the swivel chair. Taking a deliberate glance at her watch before rising, Suzy stepped forward.

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said coolly.

  Jake took her hand, and against
her better judgment, Suzy found she approved of his warm dry clasp. Damp wimpy handshakes she couldn’t abide. Deep brown eyes looked steadily into hers.

  “I’m shamefully late, Miss Porter,” he said.

  “Suzy,” she said with a tight smile. “Ten minutes seems an age when one is waiting.”

  He nodded slightly. “Eight and a half minutes actually, I believe, which I apologize for. Parking is abysmal around here.”

  Pulling her hand away, Suzy lowered her eyes. He was right, it was.

  Jake retrieved the flowers from the desk. “These are for you,” he said as he handed them to her, “and I rather hoped before I go”―he picked up the champagne bottle―“that if all goes well we could raise a glass to the hopeful outcome of our venture?”

  Suzy took both from him. “Thank you,” she said politely, “though we shall have to decline the offer of champagne, I’m afraid. We don’t keep flutes or ice buckets in the office.” She saw her father’s sharp look and excused herself to put the flowers in water.

  “We’ll wait for your return,” Jake said.

  “Can we offer you tea, coffee?” Tom asked. “I know we have those,” he added wryly to Suzy’s departing back.

  “I’m fine, Tom.”

  »»•««

  In the small kitchen Suzy ran water into the vase. He had taken her completely by surprise. Why though? She asked herself, plonking the flowers unceremoniously in the vase and attempting to arrange them.

  Because she’d expected him to dash in and more or less lay the blame at anyone’s feet rather than his own for being late. But he hadn’t. He’d apologized.

  She dabbed her face with a paper towel, gave the flowers one last twiddle, and carried them through to the office. Jake looked up and she caught the briefest flickering of his eyes over her. The skin rippled all the way down her spine.