‘Cheese biscuits.’
‘Yes, but I’m not talking crackers,’ she added hastily. ‘These would be high end savoury biscuits. Olive and sundried tomato. Parmesan and rosemary. That type of thing.’
Her words trailed off and the room descended into silence. Though it wasn’t unusual in her dealings with Doug, it was unnerving. Her heart began to thump and she found she was twisting her hands. Oh God, maybe he hated it …
‘Wow.’
Her head shot up. ‘Wow?’
‘I believe that’s what I said.’
‘You mean you like the idea?’ How could she tell when his face was so devoid of any expression?
‘That is generally what the term wow implies.’
Jeeze, even when he was paying her a compliment, he was frustrating. ‘Well, I’m glad you feel that way.’ Torn between relief that he liked it, and irritation that he was so flipping tight lipped, she pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘Perhaps when you’ve had a look through the report you’ll have a few more questions. I mean, that is usually what happens in these situations, isn’t it? Questions asked and answered, a bit of a discussion.’
When he still said nothing, Abby gave up. It was only when she reached the door that he finally spoke. ‘I don’t have the questions, Abby.’
She halted and glanced back at him. ‘What do you mean?’
He shrugged awkwardly. ‘I mean you’re so much better at this than I am.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘Oh, no—’
‘Oh, yes,’ he interrupted. ‘I can manage the negotiations, the people and the day to day stuff, but when it comes to marketing or long term strategy I’m like the carp dumped by the side of the lake, flapping his tail and desperately hoping someone will shove him back where he belongs.’
‘In front of a canvas.’
He gave her a resigned smile. ‘If I’m honest, yes.’
She took a few steps back into his office. ‘Then why work here?’
His eyes fell to his desk where he picked up the pen and started to play with it. It was a habit, like steepling his fingers, that Abby presumed gave him time to think. ‘It’s a family business, and I’m family.’
‘You don’t have to manage it to be involved. Your mum doesn’t. Thea doesn’t.’
‘They don’t have a Y chromosome.’ He held up a hand. ‘You don’t need to lecture me on equality, but it’s also fair to add that they aren’t interested in the business, either.’
But neither are you. Abby wished she knew what was going on because whatever it was, it was making Doug extremely unhappy. Each time she’d asked though, she’d received an evasive answer so there was no point pushing on a locked door. ‘Well, thank you for the compliment. Coming from someone whose opinion I value, it means an awful lot.’
‘You know you’re wasted as a PA, don’t you?’
Her heart thumped. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me?’
He let out a sharp laugh. ‘Of course not. You’re my ace up the sleeve. As long as you keep giving me your ideas, I look good.’ His expression sobered. ‘It’s not right though. I’m happy for you to get as involved as you want here, gain some experience, but you should be working in an environment where you get credit for your ideas. I’ll do what I can, but my father is a chauvinist. He tolerates Geraldine because she came from a rival company with a stack of references.’
‘And I’m a secretary who’s already pissed him off, twice.’
‘You’re a very bright woman with a business degree and a rare ability to think outside the normal parameters. Pissing off a small minded misogynist is a credit to you.’
A warm rush of pleasure flooded through her. Nobody had ever told her she was clever, or had such belief in her ability. Mum had loved her, but had been too busy bringing up a family, and then tackling cancer, to talk about school or careers. Following her death the focus had been on keeping the family together and muddling through. Her dad had tried hard, but between the garage and her four younger sisters – one of whom had become a single mum – his time, and his attention, had been spread very thin.
Yet here was this man, an extraordinary artist and, despite what he thought, a damn good businessman, telling her she had what it took. ‘Thank you.’ Somehow she squeezed the words past the ball of emotion in her throat. ‘I’ve missed this.’
‘What?’
‘You and me, talking. We used to have such a good rapport before … before …’
‘Before I started acting like a prick.’
His wry, self-mocking smile caught at her heart. ‘You were cross with me. I understand. Having your PA mouthing off to your father wasn’t cool. Neither was that same PA winding you up afterwards. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I was angry at myself, not you. You were an easier target. I’m sorry.’
She grinned. ‘So, we’re good then?’
He inclined his head and she caught the twinkle in his eyes. ‘We’re good.’
Feeling fuller somehow, more energised, she walked back to her desk and focused on her work.
Doug was finding it hard to concentrate. Instead of the reports he was supposed to be reading, all he could see was Abby’s face when he’d told her how bright she was. As if he’d given her a rare and expensive gift, rather than simply telling her the truth. He hadn’t even mentioned her other qualities: exuberance, warmth, kindness and the most phenomenal strength of mind. He’d tried hard to put their relationship back on a more professional footing these last few weeks, and she’d not shied away from letting him know what she’d thought of it.
What was he going to do about his, at times overwhelming, need to put his arms around her and kiss her? It was like a nagging ache, always there.
He was knocked out of his self-absorption by the buzz of his mobile phone. A quick check of the caller ID, and he grimaced. ‘Mother.’
‘Hello, Douglas. I’m calling to remind you of the arrangements for Friday.’
‘Friday,’ he repeated dumbly.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. It’s the Faulkner Foundation Ball. I told you to put it in your diary months ago.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you did.’
‘You are coming.’
It wasn’t a question but Doug automatically flicked through his diary, even though he knew nothing short of the words end of the world would save him. And even that would result in a heated debate his mother would probably win. ‘Of course I’m coming.’
‘And will you be bringing anyone?’
Last year he’d been so desperate for company he’d invited Geraldine. A bad idea all round. She’d found it utterly tedious, which of course it was, and Doug had found spending the evening with his disgruntled sometime lover even more deadly than going alone. ‘No, I—’
‘Doug, I’ve got a Robert Langstone on the line but before I put him through …’ Abby appeared in the alcove, slapping a hand over her mouth when she realised he was on the phone. She rolled her eyes, mimed cutting her neck and dashed out of his vision.
A smile slowly settled across his face. ‘Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I will be bringing someone.’
‘Does this someone have a name?’
‘Abigail Spencer.’
‘Do I know her?’
‘Yes. She was at the last board meeting. She’s my personal assistant.’
‘Oh.’
As he imagined the displeasure on her face his smile widened. ‘Do you want me to come, or not?’
‘Of course I do. It’s the Faulkner Foundation. All the family should be there.’
The charity, or to be more exact the prestige that came with being the charity patron, was all his mother lived for. ‘Then seat me next to Abby.’
‘Abigail.’
Clearly it was one thing to have a lowly PA coming to her fancy do. Another entirely to call her Abby. ‘Fine. She’ll answer to either.’
‘I want the family there for seven p.m., before the guests arrive. Don’t be late.’
‘I
wouldn’t dream of it.’
He ended the call and thrust the phone onto the desk. What on earth had he done? He had no time to wonder because Abby was poking her cute nose back in his office.
‘Sorry for interrupting just now. I’m such a klutz. I know I should tell you who’s on the line over the phone, but it always seems so silly when you’re just round the corner.’
‘It’s fine. Is Robert still there?’
‘No. I told him you’d call him back.’ She scuttled in and stuck a yellow Post-it note onto his desk. ‘He seemed very nice.’
‘He is, to the ladies.’
‘Ah.’ She giggled. ‘Is that why he wanted to know all about me? He told me to tell you that on his next visit he was going to take me out to lunch.’
‘Did he now.’ Doug fought against an irrational spurt of jealousy. Abby wasn’t his and Robert was a chronic flirt. ‘What are you doing Friday evening?’
She blinked. ‘Is this still about Robert? Because I’m sure he was only joking when he talked about taking me out.’
‘I’m sure he wasn’t, but that’s not what this is about. My mother is patron of a charity she helped to found: the Faulkner Foundation. Its annual ball is on Friday when frighteningly pompous people gather and have toe curlingly dull conversations over artfully displayed, utterly bland food. I’m required to attend, and though it’s all in a good cause I’d rather watch paint dry while having my fingernails removed without anaesthetic.’
‘Oh boy.’
‘I wondered if you’d like to come with me?’
For a split second she looked stunned. Then she started to laugh. ‘How many people have you asked so far?’
‘You’re the first. Why?’
‘I just thought with an invitation like that you might be struggling to find a willing victim. Which is why you’ve turned to me.’
‘The description is true, though possibly on the generous side. As for why I’m asking you …’ He paused, looked her in the eye and went with the truth. ‘I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather suffer it with.’
She hiccupped out another laugh. ‘Is that because you want to see me suffer, too?’
‘No. It’s because when I’m in your company I forget everything else going on around me.’
Shit. For once in his life he’d talked without thinking, and now she had the look of a shocked Bambi. There was nothing he could do to take back the words though, and he was amazed to realise he didn’t want to. She deserved to know how he felt about her, even though he wasn’t going to act on it.
A flush stained her cheeks and she actually seemed lost for something to say.
‘So, will you come?’ he asked gruffly.
‘Yes.’ He thought he was in for one of the shortest replies on record, but then her hands flew to her cheeks. ‘Oh my God, I’ve got nothing to wear. How fancy is this do, exactly? Will I need a posh dress? And will there be loads of courses that’ll require locating the right cutlery? And who’s going to be there because if it’s a bunch of rich people I won’t have a clue what to say. They’ll be talking Barbados and The Ivy and I’ll be more Cleethorpes and McDonald’s.’
He chuckled. ‘Relax. I’ll buy you something to wear.’
She shook her head furiously. ‘Oh no, absolutely not.’
‘Absolutely yes. You’re doing me a massive favour. The least you deserve from it is a new dress. As to the rest,’ he continued, railroading over her further protest, ‘I’ll talk you through the courses, point out the cutlery and the only person you have to talk to is me.’
‘Is that a promise? I mean about the cutlery and talking only to you. I can find a dress.’
‘It’s a promise about all of it. Including the dress,’ he added firmly.
Slowly the bright smile that was so much a part of her slid across her face. ‘All righty. In that case, I’m sold.’
And just like that, something he would usually dread was now something he was looking forward to.
Chapter Sixteen
Abby stared again at the deep purple velvet dress draped over her bed. She’d never owned anything as beautiful – or expensive. She’d guessed, even before Mandy had googled the designer, that Doug had spent a small fortune on it. More on one dress, for one occasion, than her annual clothes budget. It felt criminal to accept it, but as her fingers skipped over the soft velvet she knew she couldn’t give it back. With a sigh of pleasure she slipped it on and studied herself in the mirror. She’d never felt so special. Or so slim. And that was before she’d managed to do it up.
‘Mandy? Will you help with this zip?’ she shouted through the closed door. Why did designers put zips on the back, when only a disjointed woman with extra long arms had any hope of doing the flipping thing up?
There was a knock on the door. ‘Mandy’s gone downstairs to let Roger in. Will I do instead?’ Her father popped his head round and whistled. ‘Well, don’t you look a knock out.’
‘Thank you, kind sir.’ She wriggled round so her back was towards him and he grasped the zip.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve been anywhere near a lady’s zip,’ he muttered, and Abby tried not to wince as he jerked it up. When he’d finished he drew her round to face him and studied her with soft brown eyes so similar to her own. ‘Your mother would be so proud of you if she could see you now.’
‘Oh, Dad.’ Abby felt her eyes well. At times, with all the chaos that Spencer life entailed, it was easy to forget that it hadn’t just been her and her sisters who’d lost someone important when their mum had died. Her father had lost the love of his life.
‘Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Here.’ He drew a wrinkled old hanky from his pocket. ‘Wipe your eyes with this. It looks reasonably clean.’
‘Thanks.’ She dabbed at them carefully, both to protect her make-up and to ensure minimal transfer of engine oil onto her face. ‘You must be the only person in the world who still uses handkerchiefs.’
‘Bloody sight more sensible than a tissue which shreds the moment you touch it.’ He smiled at her, his face looking older than it should for his age, but comfortingly familiar. ‘I meant what I said, you know. You look smashing. That bloke of yours certainly knows how to pick a dress.’
She glanced down at the soft velvet which fell over her curves like a violet waterfall. ‘He’s not my bloke, but yes, he’s got great taste.’
‘In my day, when a guy took a woman to a fancy do and bought her a dress it meant he was keen on her.’
‘I wish.’ The words tumbled out without her thinking and Abby quickly shook her head. ‘No, forget I said that. Doug is a really good boss. That’s the most important part.’
Her father frowned. ‘I assumed, as you went to a gallery with him, and as he’s been to the house and met your sisters, that he was chasing my girl.’
‘If only he was.’ She slumped onto the bed, then immediately leapt up again. ‘Oh help, I don’t want to crush the dress. Then again, does expensive, silk blended velvet even crease?’ She smoothed a hand down the front, letting out an hysterical laugh. ‘Oh God. How am I supposed to spend an evening with a bunch of rich people when even the dress I’m wearing is too posh for me?’
Her father took her hand and squeezed. ‘You’re worth a hundred stuck up Felicitys. Come here.’ He did something then that he hadn’t done in a long while. He put his arms around her. Instantly Abby forgot about the dress, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him back.
‘Sorry,’ she sniffed, trying to control her tears because she really, really didn’t want to meet Doug with eyes that clashed with her dress. ‘I’m having a mini meltdown but I’ll be all right in a minute.’ She tried to laugh. ‘Truth is, I’m terrified about tonight. Terrified I’ll embarrass Doug in front of his family.’
‘Poppycock. Any man who walks into a room with you on his arm would feel ten foot tall.’
‘Oh, Dad.’ After giving him a watery smile she kissed his weathered cheek. ‘Only a father could say that.’
>
‘I mean it.’ He tucked his hand under her chin. ‘Am I allowed to ask what’s going on here? Are you falling for this Doug fellow?’
Glumly she nodded her head. ‘I’m very afraid I am. I know he likes me, but I also know he won’t take it any further.’ She exhaled a long, deep breath. ‘Why is it when it comes to men I always punch above my weight?’
‘If you’re referring to that bastard Tony, excuse my language, then you’re talking rubbish. He wasn’t good enough to clean your shoes.’
‘He was the owner of a successful advertising agency who dumped me to marry a rich, glamorous heiress. His business is now three times the size it was and he hasn’t looked back since.’
‘But is he happy?’
Abby burst out laughing. ‘We can pretend he isn’t.’
Her father stroked a finger down her cheek. ‘You’re a beautiful young lady. One who’s single-handedly raised this family for the last twelve years.’ She opened her mouth to contradict him, but he interrupted her. ‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve done for us. There isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t count himself as incredibly lucky to have you.’
‘Jeeze, Dad.’ She swallowed, then swallowed again. ‘You’re going to make me cry again and I can’t go to this stupid ball with puffy eyes.’ After taking a moment to get herself together, Abby glanced back up at him. ‘You know, I can’t remember the last time we had a proper talk like this.’
He gave her a sad smile. ‘That’s on me, lass. I’ve not been around as much as I should have. The garage sucks up too much of my time. It annoyed your mother, too.’
She kissed his weathered cheek again. ‘It doesn’t annoy me, Dad. You said I raised this family by myself but I didn’t. You were always at the heart of it. I just want you to know you still are. And that we all still need you.’ Afraid she was going to cry again, she struck an exaggerated model pose. ‘Who else is going to tell us we’re beautiful?’
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