Molly
Page 59
She wandered to the door. Adam had left the street door open; through it she saw him standing by the car, trapped in conversation with a group of laughing girls, led, predictably, by Meg, still sporting the gallant bush hat. She would probably, thought her mother drily, want to sleep in it.
Across the hall the door to the darkened offices stood open. On an impulse she moved across the passage and stood in the doorway of the office that had for so long been Nancy’s and was now, ironically, Chantale’s, the girl who was the daughter-in-law that Nancy had never seen, and who was carrying her grandchild. For a moment Molly conjured in her head the memories, aware even as she did so, that day by day the hurt was softening. Nancy, arguing about women’s rights with John Marsden. Nancy, battered, her heelless shoe brandished as a trophy. Molly crossed the room to the door of the main office, switched on the lights and advanced to the centre of the room. On her big desk lay the papers she had been working on concerning the newly-established Nancy Benton Trust. She riffled through them.
She heard Adam’s light, uneven footsteps before he spoke. “Don’t you ever stop working?” He leaned in the doorway, as he had once before, watching her.
She laughed. “I was thinking. Do you know that it’s twenty years almost to the day since I first walked through the door? I can see John now, sitting behind this very desk, scowling at me like the wolf at Red Riding Hood.”
“Did he scare you?”
“I don’t think so. My feet hurt too much.”
He came into the room towards her. Now she could see that in his hands he held an opened bottle of champagne and two tall glasses. “You’ve come a long way since that day. You’re on the way to becoming a very rich lady.” He placed the long, fluted glasses on the desk top and poured the champagne. She watched as it foamed, sparkling, into the glass.
“Yes, I suppose so.” She frowned a little, her head on one side. “You know just about all about me, don’t you? It’s all a bit one-sided, isn’t it? There’s still so much I don’t know about you. Where you come from? How you started?”
He laughed and picked up a glass in each hand. “That’s another story. You only get to hear it if you marry me.” Then, into the sudden silence he added tranquilly, “This seems an appropriate time and it’s certainly,” he glanced around, a spark of humour in his eyes, “the most appropriate place. Will you marry me?”
Outside another firework lit the sky with lovely, multi-coloured stars that blazed brightly for a few seconds then fell, fading, to earth.
Molly studied him in the flickering light, smiling. Then, very slowly, she shook her head. Love, she had discovered, was one thing, marriage quite another.
“I won’t ask you again,” he said mildly.
She moved to him, stood on tiptoe, and dropped a kiss, feather-light, on his cheek. “Oh, yes, Adam,” she said softly, “You will.”
She sensed his sudden stillness before, despite himself, laughter rose: laughter in which she joined as it lifted above the sounds of the world’s celebrations outside.
First published in the USA in 1982 by Coward, McCann & Geoghegan, New York
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
57 Shepherds Lane
Beaconsfield, Bucks HP9 2DU
United Kingdom
Copyright © Teresa Crane, 1982
The moral right of Teresa Crane to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788633581
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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