Alexander pulled a glass towards him, reached for the mint and fruit-stuffed jug and poured the tawny liquid into a glass. ‘I’d like to think that I offer people the best option – that’s why they respond to me. I don’t believe I could force a person into doing something they didn’t want to if I knew it was a bad idea.’
‘And you thought that girl signing away her bookshop was a bad idea? That’s why you didn’t pressure her?’
To the outside world, Veronika Fletcher was an attractive wife, a wonderful hostess, a polished conversationalist. What many didn’t see was her intelligence, her ability to get to the heart of any matter in a way that didn’t feel confrontational.
‘Sophie. That’s her name. And you’re right. I couldn’t pressure her. There was no point. She was never going to sell.’ An image of a folded square of paper that would never be opened came to mind, and a smile found its way to his lips. The first one since leaving Herring Cove. ‘We went in there thinking she’d sell because she was stuck with a bookshop she felt she couldn’t sell because her dead parents had opened it. We assumed that guilt and duty had kept her there. We were wrong.
‘She genuinely wanted to be there.’ Veronika nodded in understanding. ‘It wasn’t her place of work, it was her home.
‘It’s her heart. She’s been through so much, Mum. It’s the one constant she’s had in her life, and even though business had been declining, and it was so close to being taken from her, she refused to give up. She started a market to bring business into the area, an online shop, was prepared to sell her father’s first editions – something I don’t know that I could have done had I been in her shoes. She’s not just “the girl” or “a girl”; she’s an amazing, intelligent, determined woman…’
‘And you’re in love with her.’ Veronika summed it up with a raise of her eyebrows.
The breath whooshed from Alexander at the bluntness of his mother’s words. At the truth of them.
Had he really fallen in love with Sophie over the course of the week? Could love hit that hard? Maybe it was just infatuation…
‘You’ve dated plenty of women I would deem “intelligent”, “amazing” and “determined”, Alexander, but you’ve never put your career on the line for them. Never risked disappointing your father for them.’
‘And have I? Disappointed him?’ Anxiety swirled in his stomach. The answer was clear. Obvious in the pause his mother took before answering. In the way she couldn’t meet his eyes.
‘You have. You’ve never let him down before. Never not got the job done.’ Veronika freshened up her glass. ‘It’s not just the business side that’s upset him. It’s the manner in which you conducted yourself. He’s since spoken to some of the villagers and heard about your day at the beach, your pub dinners with the locals, your helping this Sophie of yours to rebuild her business when you were meant to be securing ours.’
The ever-present guilt that lurked beneath the surface since he’d returned home rose, squeezing his chest, reminding him of his duty to his family. Professionalism over pleasure. Family over friends. Work first, life last.
How could he say he was sorry though? How could he promise to never let it happen again? He couldn’t. Not when he wasn’t sorry. When if he could see Sophie again, if he could make things right, he would. In a heartbeat.
‘Your father is struggling to understand why you’ve done what you’ve done. I think I understand though, Alexander. Love doesn’t always make sense. Doesn’t always make us see sense. It can make us do things that make no sense.’
Alexander sat back in his chair, surprised by his mother’s words. ‘You sound like you know something of the nonsensical. Did you love someone before Dad? Before you were put together by your families because it made sense?’
Veronika placed her manicured hand on her chest and laughed, long and loud. ‘Oh, sweet boy. Your father is the only man I’ve ever loved. Yes, our families had a hand in bringing us together. They thought we’d be a good match and, initially, I was not happy. I had plans, you see. I didn’t want to be a wife of a man of industry. I wanted to go overseas for a bit, find myself. Maybe be a waitress. Work in a zoo. Go skinny-dipping on an exotic beach …’
Alexander held his hand up. ‘Whoa, too much information.’
‘I’m not sorry. You’ve only ever seen me as the woman I am now. Not the woman I was then. I met with your father under duress, and in seconds his straight-talking nature had me charmed. I tossed away what I thought I wanted and embraced the life I was meant to lead. And I’ve never regretted it. Not once.’
A new potential jolted the guilt stirring in his belly, as excitement began to pulse through him. Was his mother suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? That if he’d found love, it was his duty to do right by it?
Hope filled his heart, wove a silver lining around the grey cloud that had befuddled his mind since returning to London.
‘I know you and Dad only want the best for me. That you think my following in both Dad and Grandfather’s footsteps is the path I need to take if I’m to continue the Fletcher Group’s successful trajectory, but what if there’s another road I can take? One that will mean diversifying, but in a business-positive way?’
Veronika cocked her head. ‘I’m listening…’ She gave him an encouraging nod.
Buoyed by her interest, Alexander continued on, telling her his vision for Herring Cove.
‘It’s a beautiful place, Mum. Picturesque, quaint, untouched. With rugged cliffs that drop down to a golden beach. I want to transform it without destroying it. I want to create a boutique village that capitalises on its charm in order to encourage people to holiday there.’
Veronika shifted in her seat, lines ran horizontally across her forehead as she stared into the middle-distance. ‘I see what you’re getting at, but how would we make money? From what I can make of it, your vision would attract fewer people than a resort would, simply because there wouldn’t be the accommodation available.’
Cottages, empty but for the spiders that had set up home in the eaves and corners of the windows, came to mind. ‘There are plenty of homes that are unlived in. Abandoned, really. We could buy them, upgrade where necessary, rent them out at a premium price. They have unobstructed views of the water, and the sunsets are unlike anything I’ve seen before. I’d pay above and beyond for those alone.’
Veronika further furrowed her brow.
Think man, think. He hadn’t won her over. Not yet. The Fletcher Group cared about money. Making it. Saving it. And they cared about having the upper hand over their competitors. Surely there was an angle there…
He sprang out of his seat and began to pace the patio, hoping movement would get the ideas flowing. ‘We wouldn’t have to massively upgrade infrastructure, so we’d save money there. The farm we were planning to put the golf course on could be transformed into a five-star B&B, with private cottages complete with outdoor baths dotted around the property. It could house a restaurant specialising in local, organic produce, as well as fresh fish caught locally. Free-range meat from local farms. I know a chef who could be interested. He’s always up for a challenge, and he’s into the slow-food movement. Not unamenable to some show-ponying in food magazines either. From a PR perspective, it’s gold. A company known for throwing up resorts taking a different approach, one that’s in keeping with the local way of life? One that will revive a dying village? It’s got the feel-good factor written all over it.’
Alexander paused and took a sip of his drink. His mother hadn’t cut him off. Hadn’t clucked her tongue. Hadn’t given any indication that she hated the idea. She was a master at hiding her true thoughts, but he was sure he saw a sparkle in her eye, one that grew as he’d outlined his plans. ‘I know it seems so far from what we do, but I have a good feeling about it. And my good feelings are never wrong.’
Veronika tapped her chin. ‘Your father will think it a terrible idea. He prefers wealth creation to be fast and furious.’
‘Don’t
I just.’
Alexander twisted round to see Frank in the doorway.
‘Don’t tell me you’re still going on about Herring Cove.’ Frank poured himself a drink and took a seat, indicating for Alexander to sit opposite.
Alexander didn’t budge, instead drew himself up tall as he could. ‘Dad, I mean this with all respect, but if I’m going to be the future CEO of the Fletcher Group, you are going to have to trust me. Trust my instincts. Trust that I am capable of doing a good job of keeping what you and Grandfather built, on my own terms.’
Frank hooked a leg over his knee and leaned back in his chair.
Alexander had seen that move more times than he could count. It was a power play. It said ‘I’m willing to hear you out’, but what it really meant was ‘I’ll listen, but I’m never going to agree.’
Alexander relaxed his demeanour and took his seat, kept his hands loose. His smile easy.
His father wanted to play? He’d play.
To win.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘Has she said anything to you, Nat?’ Ginny’s hushed voice was blatant with worry.
‘Not a thing. Keeps acting like there’s nothing wrong.’
‘It’s like when her parents died, remember? She’d always smile and say she was fine.’
‘And no one who says they’re fine ever means it.’
‘Exactly.’
Sophie poked her head over her laptop screen where she’d been emailing a potential buyer of one of the first editions. One that would see her council tax bill cleared, and any chance of Frank Fletcher hassling her again well and truly gone.
‘I can hear you. And I am fine. I promise.’ She flashed a thumbs up at Ginny and Natalie, who were huddled on the couch together, mugs of tea in hand, their brows furrowed in matching looks of concern.
Ginny set her mug down and glared at her. ‘Fine is not the same as being good, Soph. You know that. Can you tell me you’re good? That you’re happy?’
Sophie shut the laptop and indicated for the girls to get up. ‘I’ve got to straighten up these shelves. They’re still higgledy-piggledy after Lucille’s talk. How about instead of worrying needlessly about me, you help?’
Natalie folded her arms, unconvinced. ‘If we help, will you be straight up with us? Tell us how you really feel?’
‘There’s nothing to tell.’ Sophie held her arms up, palms flat to the ceiling and widened her eyes for extra honest-to-goodness-I-really-am-fine effect. ‘Promise. But if my telling you I feel nothing means tidying up this place will take one-third of the time, then I’ll tell you I feel nothing.’
‘There we go. She feels nothing.’ Ginny grunted as she pushed herself up off the sofa. ‘She’s numb. Broken. No wonder she says she’s fine. If you’re not feeling anything of course you’re fine.’
Sophie rolled her eyes as she reordered a line of books alphabetically. ‘Look, I just don’t see the point in thinking too hard about what happened. I can’t change it. He has a life to live in the city and that’s all there is to it.’ He. And that’s how much it hurt: she couldn’t even say his name. Let alone think it. But she wasn’t telling her friends that. She wasn’t telling them anything. It was too embarrassing to admit she’d fallen for the same tricks again. Instead she’d let Ginny and Natalie believe he’d had to go back to London for work.
Ginny came to stand beside her and slung an arm around her shoulders. ‘Maybe he’ll come back for you. Wouldn’t that be romantic.’ She sighed deeply and faked a swoon.
‘It would be inconvenient. I’m busy with the bookshop. The online business is picking up. I’ve had some big thriller author get in touch about a book signing after a recommendation from Lucille Devine, so I need to organise that. If he came back I’d be too busy for him.’
Tiring of the topic, Sophie left Ginny and Natalie to finish off straightening up the books and made her way back to the laptop. She pulled up the courier’s website to check the tracking on a batch of fresh books due to arrive.
Sale by sale, the bookshop’s finances were rising from the doldrums, but even that hint of success did not distract from the pain that pulsed through her heart every time Al—… he entered her thoughts or was mentioned by Ginny or Natalie, who hadn’t stopped asking after her well-being or if she’d heard from him since he’d left nearly three weeks ago.
Nineteen days ago, to be exact. Not that she was counting.
Sophie ran her hand through her hair and tried to concentrate on the courier’s tracking page. Failed. It was all too hard.
She should be happy right now. Thrilled. Instead her heart was hollow, and that feeling weaved its way through every aspect of her life. Her beloved bookshop tainted with sadness. Her home no longer her sanctuary, but a place she wanted to hide from. The beach was out of bounds, the memories forged there in recent times flooded in whenever she caught sight of the blue waters, heard them whisper as they washed over the sand. Every part of her home, of Herring Cove, pushed him to the front of her mind, when what she wanted – what she needed – was for him to be well gone from it.
Was this how Natalie felt? Was that why she was so happy to sell up? To leave?
‘Have you found a new place to buy, Nat?’
Natalie poked her head around the bookshelf. ‘Not yet. The money’s not come through. There’s been a hold-up. They said not to worry though, that it would be sorted soon.’
Sophie knew what the ‘hold-up’ was. More to the point, who it was. She was to blame. She’d dug her heels in when Frank Fletcher had returned to the shop, trying again to get her to sell. She’d even gone so far as to press her hands over her ears and sing ‘la la la’ so she couldn’t hear his emotive arguments. Eventually he’d given up with an ominous ‘you’re making the biggest mistake of your life’.
It took all her self-control not to reply with a ‘the biggest mistake of my life was falling for your son’.
The screen blurred before her as reality hit, hard.
She repeated the same mistakes with men.
She stuck stubbornly to her own safe ways, even when it was detrimental to her life.
Even now she refused to sell the bookshop, even though she couldn’t muster any joy being here. Even though it had begun to feel like an albatross round her neck, rather than her happy place.
What had been her safety net was now a daily reminder of every misstep she’d ever made.
She slumped onto the counter and buried her head in her arms.
Seconds later she was smothered in a hug by Natalie and Ginny as they shushed kind nothings into her ear.
For the first time since that fateful night, Sophie allowed the tears to flow freely. To ease the tension coiled in every muscle. To wash away her anger at putting her trust in the wrong person, the fear that she could so easily be hurt, the heartbreak at feeling so deeply for another, only to have it all be a lie.
Long minutes passed. Her shoulders shuddered one last time. Ginny and Natalie’s grip on her loosened, but they didn’t let go.
‘I’m glad you let it out,’ Natalie whispered. ‘You couldn’t hold it in forever.’
‘If you had you’d have exploded.’ Ginny kissed her cheek. ‘And I’m not game to clean human innards off books and furniture.’
Sophie blinked away the last of her tears, then wiped damp streaks from her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘I’m so lucky to have you both.’
‘The feeling is entirely mutual.’ Ginny wiped away a tear. ‘Stupid hormones making me leak all the time. I swear they’ve gotten worse since I decided it was time to make a baby.’
‘Just you wait until you’ve actually made one.’ Natalie leaned against the counter and shook her head. ‘You’ll be begging for the regular hormones to make a return. Speaking of returns…’ Natalie turned her attention to Sophie. ‘I take it Alexander didn’t go back to London just for work?’
Sophie breathed deeply, then exhaled, long and slow. ‘He didn’t.’ She paused, unsure how to go on. Perhaps the
first step to healing… to letting him go… was opening up. ‘He went because I told him to go. He wasn’t who I thought he was.’
Ginny’s eyes narrowed. ‘He seemed so nice. Like a proper good guy. Man, I wish he was still here so I could stuff fish bait into his car’s muffler. Or just dump a bucket of it over his head.’
Despite herself, Sophie laughed. ‘I wish you could too. It’s my own fault though; I trusted him. He knew about my financial problems and he told his father.’
‘That arse.’ Ginny folded her arms and glared. ‘I can’t believe he’d do that. When? How?’
‘He saw an email by accident on his first day here, an overdue bill. I guess he must’ve told him that day. His father used that information to come here after Lucille’s talk, all guns blazing, and tried to use it against me. Told me I was silly not to sell. That I’d regret it.’ Sophie hugged herself. Part of her was beginning to think Frank was right.
‘Soph, don’t take this the wrong way, but did you tell him not to say anything?’ Natalie’s words were hesitant, like she knew she was treading on shaky ground.
Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. She knew what Natalie was trying to say – that if she’d not explicitly asked him to keep that knowledge to himself, then she could hardly blame him for doing what any other businessman trying to secure a deal would do – but part of her didn’t want to hear it.
Acknowledging that would mean she acted wrongly, tossing Alexander out the way she had. That the only person she could blame for her situation was herself. That had she stopped, breathed and heard him out, she wouldn’t be walking around the shop wishing she could be anywhere but. Contemplating doing the one thing she’d sworn she wouldn’t do.
Natalie rubbed Sophie’s arm. ‘You can’t be blamed for jumping to conclusions and thinking the worst of Alex. Not after the Phillip situation, combined with the pressure of the last week and his father turning up like that and bothering you. It would be enough to make anyone do something rash.’
The Little Bookshop at Herring Cove Page 18