Not that there was anywhere else to hold a function for forty people in the local area. Pebble Cove was the only choice. What was she going to do? She needed to talk it through with someone, but there was nobody here for her. She could call Brett but he would just moan at her for booking something when she was supposed to be planning to move back to him.
Think, Libs. What would dad do?
She tapped her forehead with her fingers, drumming out a beat that would hopefully fill her head with amazing ideas to solve the problem she faced. It didn’t, all it filled her head with was a dull ache.
Think outside the box, Libby.
That’s what her dad had always told her when she couldn’t piece puzzles together, or if she was stressing about something. Think outside the box. He was always full of smart phrases that made her think for herself, rather than coming up with an answer for her. Liberty knew that was one of the reasons she was so independent.
Think outside the box.
Liberty backed out of the chock-full room and locked the door behind her. First box done with. She looked around the lobby. Apart from the front desk—which was at the back of the lobby, with the little office behind—and the door to the function room, there were the large wooden stairs up to the second floor and five of the bedrooms, then another door to the dining room with the kitchen to the rear of that. On the third floor was room six, which was not even worth considering.
Liberty drifted over to the front desk and leant her elbows on it, her chin resting in her hands She ticked the rooms off in her head one by one. All the bedrooms were too small, the lobby was too much of a thoroughfare. She’d feel like a fraud holding anything in the dining room—which was the only room her dad had redecorated since turning the family home into a motel, and which now looked like a diner with its black and white floor and red tables and chairs. It was completely out of character with the rest of the motel, and too brash to hold a formal gathering. It was also far too small, and there was nowhere to move the tables to, unless she opened the French doors and pushed them all out into the garden for the afternoon.
That was it. A flicker of relief ran over Liberty’s face as she realised that her dad was once again right, and he hadn’t even opened his mouth this time. Outside the box, figuratively speaking, had taken her outside the motel, literally speaking. She pushed through the door to the dining room, heading through the pools of red and pink light reflecting from the tables and over to the French doors. The sun wasn’t at the back of the motel, so the room here and the garden beyond were cooler, making it perfect for holding an event where most people would be dressed in black suits.
The French doors led down a set of stone steps and onto a large piece of lawn surrounded by shrubs that flowered in the summer months. Their spherical leaves needed a bit of a haircut, and the lawn needed a good going over with the mower, but other than that it was perfect. It was flat and secluded and didn’t involve wading through a lifetime of memories that Liberty had neither the time or the resilience for right now. Plus, at this time of year, rain was scarcer than Brett’s wallet when the check arrived.
Liberty sat down on the stone steps and contemplated the garden. She could hold the funeral gathering out here. It was safe and secluded, and free from prying eyes, and there was a small walkway around to the front of the property—avoiding the rotting porch—which led to the beach path. It was perfect. She had walked over this piece of lawn pretty much every day since arriving, back and forth to the rear of the motel and the annex that her dad, and now Liberty, called home. Why hadn’t her dad used this area already?
There was a sharp intake of breath as Liberty realised maybe he had done this before and she just didn’t know about it. How many times had she called him since she’d left Little Norwich? How many times had she asked how he was getting on with the business? She had been impatient to leave and once she had gone she had barely looked back, there had been no need to check up on the business. Not until he’d keeled over and almost died.
Liberty sighed. She’d let her dad down too many times since she’d left. But she wouldn’t let him down now. Funeral or not, she’d make this event the talk of the town.
6
“But Tilly, can’t we just tell dad he’s not invited?”
Nate was on his cell, lounging on his sofa. His view was of the ocean, but at the moment even the aquamarine water couldn’t lift his spirits.
“I’m sorry, Nate,” Tilly said. “He’s your dad. You know what he’s like.”
Nate certainly did, and there was no saying no to him. When his bank balance had tipped the ten-figure mark, his dad had wanted him to celebrate and buy a new house. A bigger house. A house with more bedrooms, more bathrooms, more living rooms, a bigger pool, a six-car garage. The list was endless. Nate had ended up buying the mansion his dad had been pestering him to buy, then giving it over to him to love instead. The look on the Nathaniel Snr’s face had been priceless, and that almost made up for the painful chore of house hunting with the old man, who was one of those who liked to brag about his wealth to every person he met.
Nate had been happy to stay put. Not that he was making do where he was, not at all. But he felt he didn’t need any extra space. When he’d first hit the big time Nate had bought a home for himself out of necessity other than anything else, he had picked the first one he’d seen that had the view he craved. The need to get out of the family home was his incentive. He had found a luxury villa on the cliffs, overlooking the ocean. Every room had floor to ceiling windows which faced towards the open water, and Nate loved that he could stand almost anywhere in the house and hear the calming, rhythmic pulse of the waves.
His favorite part of the house was the pool, which lay just outside the sliding doors of the white-washed building. Every day he’d lap it one hundred times, his shoulders and biceps stinging with the build-up of lactic acid. He wouldn’t quit until he reached his goal. This determination followed Nate in everything he did, which is why he was where he was today. Except today wasn’t going well for him because he knew Tilly was right, there was no way even his determination could outweigh that of his dad’s
Tilly’s soft voice was talking but Nate couldn’t process her words.
“I tried speaking with him,” she said “He told me there was no way he would miss one of his daughter-in-law’s memorials. He needed to be there for you, the media would have a field day if he wasn’t seen to be supporting you.”
“Wait, what? The media? Who has he invited?”
Tilly sighed.
“You know what he’s like. Any chance for a bit of good publicity to help him impress the women.”
“Argh!” Nate’s free hand covered his eyes as he felt his pulse drum against his skull. “Why did he have to walk in on me when he did? I could have turned up, taken a few snaps with the local newspaper, and come home again. No one would be any the wiser. Now I’m going to have to pretend to actually be sad for the whole time I’m there. No, tell him that’s not going to happen, he’s not allowed to steamroller my plans by inviting media.”
“Well, there’s not a lot we can do about it,” Tilly said. “You know what he’s like. Let’s just face up to the problems and deal with them when we’re there. It’s not the end of the world, you’ve lived this life for six years, a few more hours won’t hurt.”
Nate heard Tilly tapping away on her keyboard as she spoke. She was always working. That was all she was allowing him in terms of moaning about his dad, and he knew not to push the conversation.
“Anyway,” she continued. “I wasn’t ringing for a diatribe about your father. I was ringing to see if you had any details on the service yet, or if you needed me to organise anything?”
Nate felt his cheeks heat as he thought of the telephone conversation he’d had. What was wrong with him? He had to snap out of it before he met the poor girl. He got up from the sofa and pulled open the doors in the living room. A blast of heat hit him as he stepped out of the air-conditioned ro
om. He padded, feet bare, over the patio slabs and around the pool area, onto the grass which felt crispy and prickly under his feet, stopping only when he reached the top of the garden and the picket fence overlooking the sharp cliff edge and the waves below.
He watched the water break against the rocks, loving how unpredictable and free it was. He was jealous of how the ocean was everything he couldn’t be right now.
“Nate…? Nate…?” Tilly was shouting at him and Nate realised he’d dropped his cell by his side as he watched the waves.
“Sorry, Tills. I got a bit distracted.” He took a deep breath. “So, the venue and rooms are booked, and we’ll drive up there together on Wednesday morning. Should only take a couple hours. I’ll take the Cadillac if that’s okay with you?”
“Your dad wants us to fly with him. He said he’s checked out the area and there’s nowhere to land the plane, so we’re taking the helicopter.”
“Absolutely no way. No. I’ll drive. You can at least make that happen.”
“Okay, I’ll try. Speak soon. Get some rest, you sound a bit out of it.”
Tilly ended the call and Nate was left with nothing but the rushing of the water and the songs of the birds. He shut his eyes and felt the mist of the ocean spray his face, despite the height of the cliff. It was feisty today, he could feel it in how damp his skin was getting. The salt stinging his eyelids. The coolness of the spray was wonderful against the humid stickiness of the air.
Tilly was right, he was a bit out of it. He knew why, too, but felt really crazy admitting it, even if it was only to himself. He knew that in a few days he’d be free to live a full life. Not only that, a full life and hopefully someone to share it with. Nate ran his hands through his damp hair, sticking it up with the salt spray so he looked like a porcupine. Laughing to himself, he wished he had someone here with him now to laugh with him. Or at him, more like. He relished the coolness in his scalp, hoping it would also cool down his over-active brain.
There was no way the girl he spoke to on the phone was going to be as amazing as he’d built her up to be. He was doing her a disservice. And he was doing himself a disservice too—just because he was allowed to find someone to love and laugh with didn’t mean he had to do it with the first female he came across. The anticipation of finally being able to find a partner was sending him into a frenzy.
Nate knew he should stop thinking about Liberty, but her voice was so captivating that he felt his stomach churning at the mere thought of the conversation they had enjoyed. Deep down, however, he also knew it wasn’t real, and he clung on to that thought too. Perhaps it was the act of allowing himself to feel those thoughts again that was really causing the giddiness.
The sun was dropping toward the haze of the horizon, and soon the whole of the garden and patio area would be awash with the pinks of the sunset. Nate dragged himself away from the beauty of the clifftop and back into the villa. Changing into his swimming gear, he headed out to the pool and dived into the deep end. The water barely rippled as his feet disappeared under. Nate already had his lengths under his belt today, but he needed the clarity that he only really found when he was in the pool. No-one could disturb him, no one could speak to him, it was just him and the rush of water as he powered his way from edge to edge. It was in the pool that Nate seemed to have his best ideas. They always sprang to him when he was nowhere near a phone or laptop, or even a pen and paper, so he had to rely on his memory to store the ideas until he’d dried off and written them down.
It was in a local sports center pool that he’d first come up with the original plans for Forevercom. A girl he’d been involved with had dumped him when she found out he hated reality television. Had he known when he first met her that she was a superfan who watched at least four episodes a day of some kind of show about cheating couples or housewives, they would never have had a second date. This was one of the many reasons why Nate thought it was so important to get to know someone before any romantic involvement happened. To really get to know a person before the veil of love clouded all common sense. He couldn’t very well go against his company ethos and fall for a disembodied voice. That certainly would not do.
He came to a halt at the shallow end of the pool, another twenty laps added to his daily tally. Nate threw his arms onto the tiled lip of the pool, his chest rising and falling calmly, despite the exertion. The one thing that was hammering nineteen to the dozen was his heart. And that had nothing to do with the swimming.
7
“Ginger, you take rooms one and two. Make sure you leave the bathroom window open in two as it’s still a bit damp in there. Fred, you get yourself down to the cash and carry and pick up some better bottles of champagne, we don’t want to look as though we’re cutting costs at a funeral.”
Liberty stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, looking up from the lobby to the second floor. Fred and Ginger were out of sight but Ginger poked her head over the bannister and gave a swift thumbs-up. Liberty waited for a moment to get an affirmative from Fred, her right foot tapping impatiently on the first step.
“Fred!” she shouted when he still didn’t answer.
“Yeah?”
Liberty twirled on her free foot and saw Fred standing right behind her.
“Fred, you surprized me. I thought you were up… oh never mind. Can you head to the cash and carry in Greater Norwich and pick up some crates of better champagne than the ones we have in storage, please? I think we have everything else covered.”
Fred’s face gave away nothing and Liberty had to breathe hard and bite her tongue to stop herself from shouting at him.
Then she had a flash.
“Oh wait, can you do that? Are you able to buy alcohol? I don’t know how old you are.”
A glimmer of something flickered in Fred’s eyes and Liberty felt like she was being laughed at, which was crazy seeing as his face hadn’t really changed expression.
“Your dad has an account there. It’s always me who collects,” Fred replied, his voice was remarkably baritone for a person so fresh faced and it took Liberty off guard. It was the most he had said to her since she had walked through the motel doors a couple of weeks ago.
Now it was only a few hours until the next arrivals were due, and Liberty had a feeling that these guests were going to be very important—and not just because they were here for a funeral gathering. She wasn’t sure what it was about them that made her feel like that, only a gut instinct, but her gut instinct were nearly always spot on. Her phone buzzed in her hand and Liberty saw it was Brett.
Nearly always spot on.
“Brett, I’m so sorry but I can’t talk to you right now, I am snowed under and there’s an influx of guests due for a funeral,” Liberty gushed as she answered the phone. Her free hand shooed Fred out of the front door and hopefully in the direction of some tasty champagne.
“Libby, don’t be such a drama queen. You can spare a few minutes to talk to me can’t you, baby?”
“Of course I can, I’m sorry, Brett. But those minutes will have to be after I’ve got the place ready for my guests. There’s still so much—”
Brett had clearly stopped listening to Liberty and started to speak over her.
“You talk to me now or I will hang up this phone and never call back. I mean it.” Brett sounded as though he would have a bright red face, the kind he always got when he tried to hold his emotions in check.
“I will talk to you this evening, Brett, I promise.” Liberty was treading a fine line between wanting to keep Brett happy but a little part of her also wanted him to hang up the darn phone and stop harassing her when she was so busy. He was her boyfriend, wasn’t he supposed to be supportive and kind during family crises?
“I cannot, and I will not, be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t understand my needs. Goodbye, Libby. Have a nice life.”
The line went dead. Liberty was dumbstruck. She had never been dumped by phone before. She looked at the little rose gold device in her hand
and felt her eyes sting. All she was doing was trying her best. Her dad needed her and if Brett couldn’t understand that then there was no room for him in her life either. It was for the best, even if the way he had gone about it had hurt her.
Liberty blinked a few times, waiting for the tears to fall. They didn’t come. The longer she stood there blinking, the less hurt she felt, and the less weight she seemed to be carrying on her shoulders. Her head felt light, and Liberty ran her hand around her jaw, feeling it relax as she did so. Brett had made her so tense that now he had removed himself from her life she felt like jelly.
Liberty looked back at the blank screen.
“My name is not Libby, it’s Liberty you…”
A small cough came from the top of the stairs and Liberty stopped mid-sentence when she saw Ginger.
“Hey, Ginger. I shall hold my tongue.”
Ginger smiled at Liberty and held up her hands which were full with cleaning gear.
“Room one is finished, now about to start on two.”
“Thank you.” Liberty smiled up at the young girl, who looked as though she’d cleaned room one with her hair, the way it was sprouting out from her bun.
“Oh, and Miss Reynolds?”
“Yes, Ginger?”
“I’m glad you’re rid of him. He sounded like a loser.”
Liberty raised her eyebrows at Ginger as she scuttled away from earshot. Truth be told, it was exactly what Liberty needed to hear. Brett had been a drain on her energy since the moment he had commandeered her into a relationship. He’d controlled her more than she had been willing to admit, and now she was free of him she realised what a fool she had been.
“No more, Libs,” she told herself sternly. “Next time we’ll make the rules together and in harmony.”
Next time? Who was she kidding? The last thing on her mind now was another relationship. Her ear was still smarting from her unceremonious dumping, she would need to keep her mind free from distractions, especially considering her dad’s condition. And right now there was a garden that needed decorating in a sombre but vibrant manner, whatever that was.
My Bereaved Billionaire: A Clean Billionaire Romance (My Billionaire A-Z Book 2) Page 3