‘Now, get a good night’s rest. I’ll check up on the youngsters myself on the way back.’
Sarah did her best to take Harry’s advice, but after a phone call from Oliver to confirm that she still intended to sell to Alex she was too wound up to sleep much—partly from excitement over the barns, but mainly because she couldn’t rid herself of the idea that now, when she’d finally, reluctantly, made up her mind, Alex Merrick would say his offer had been withdrawn when she rang him to accept it.
When the sun began streaming through the shutters next morning Sarah gave up all pretence of even trying to sleep and got dressed. She let herself out of the flat, and later enjoyed her morning coffee all the more for the mile long round trip to buy a paper. She ate some toast while she caught up on the day’s news, then just sat with her phone in her hand, gazing out at the sunlit garden as she waited for the appointed hour. Exactly on the stroke of nine she rang Alex Merrick’s office number, and in response to Greg Harris’s familiar accents told him Miss Carver wished to speak to Mr Merrick.
‘I’ll see if he’s free,’ said the young man stiffly, obviously still smarting from their previous exchange. ‘Will you hold?’
‘Certainly.’
‘I’m putting you through,’ he said a moment later, and her stomach clenched as the familiar, confident voice came on the line.
‘Good morning, Miss Carver.’
‘Good morning, Mr Merrick.’
‘I take it you have an answer for me?’
‘Yes. I accept your offer for the Medlar Farm Cottages.’
Alex was silent for so long Sarah’s stomach did a nosedive. Had she been right to worry? Had he changed his mind?
‘Good,’ he said at last.
Her eyes kindled. Swine! He’d done that on purpose.
‘I suggest,’ he went on, ‘that we meet here at my office at eleven tomorrow to make the exchange. Is that convenient for you?’
‘Yes.’
‘One of the Merrick Group lawyers will be present, and you will naturally wish to bring your own legal support.’
‘Naturally,’ she said crisply, praying that the solicitor Oliver had found for her would be free to accompany her into the lion’s den.
‘In the meantime, I’ll send our chief surveyor round to the cottages today at ten to make our own official inspection—if that’s convenient?’ Alex said, hoping Sarah couldn’t tell he was grinning from ear to ear.
‘Of course,’ she said coolly, and disconnected to call her solicitor and make her request.
Charles Selby, it appeared, was only too glad to accompany her, and promised to pick her up at Medlar House well before the appointed hour. Probably because she was the goddaughter of Oliver Moore QC, thought Sarah the cynic, then rang Oliver’s chambers, as ordered, to give him the glad news.
‘Splendid, darling,’ he said, delighted. ‘Congratulations. I wondered if you might change your mind at the last minute.’
‘So did I,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘By the way, I’ve asked Mr Selby to go with me tomorrow, Oliver.’
‘Good girl. He can brief me later. Louise and Sam would be so proud of you, Sarah. I’ll drink a toast to all three of you tonight.’
Once Sarah had swallowed the lump in her throat, she rang Harry to put him in the picture.
‘Well done, boss,’ he said gruffly. ‘But if it’s not signed and sealed until tomorrow you’ll need Ian again tonight.’
‘I will, indeed. Then tomorrow the Merrick Group can take over. I’m driving down to the site right now to wait for their building inspector, Harry. How about celebrating with a ploughman’s at the Green Man later?’
‘I’m here at the cottages now,’ he told her. ‘Ian had to go off early this morning, so he asked me to come over.’
‘Thank you, Harry, you’re a star!’
‘Get away with you. I’ll put the kettle on.’
Sarah spent a tense morning with Harry, praying that the Merrick surveyor would find nothing wrong when he arrived to inspect the houses.
‘Stop worrying,’ Harry told her. ‘The official building inspectors were satisfied with it, so I doubt this fellow will find anything wrong.’
‘I just hope you’re right,’ she said fervently.
The inspector had finished by lunchtime, but to Sarah’s disappointment he made no comment on the properties other than to tell her he would pass on his findings to Mr Merrick.
‘I wish I knew what his findings were,’ said Sarah, frustrated.
‘You will, soon enough. The surveyor Bob Grover hired for his barns was just as thorough,’ Harry told her.
‘I’ll take Mr Grover’s outlay into consideration when I make my offer,’ Sarah assured him. ‘Though I’ll need a second survey on the barns. The original intention was holiday lets, so it’s vital I make sure I have the necessary permits for permanent dwellings.’
Lunch at the Green Man cheered Sarah up considerably, though Harry advised her in advance against giving the regulars her news. ‘Time enough for that when the deal’s gone through,’ he warned.
‘Don’t worry, Harry. I won’t breathe a word to anyone until the money’s safe in my bank account.’
When they went into the bar to a chorus of greetings Sarah had to put up with some good-natured teasing about being dressed up today, instead of in her working clothes.
‘You clean up pretty good, I must say,’ said Fred, handing her a half of cider. ‘I don’t think you’ve met Eddy’s son,’ he added, indicating the man who’d just come through into the bar. ‘Daniel, this is Miss Sarah Carver—the prettiest property developer in the business.’
Daniel Mason put up the flap to come round the bar and shake Sarah’s hand. Unlike his stocky father, he was tall and slim, with smooth fair hair and confident blue eyes. ‘I’m delighted to meet you,’ he said fervently.
Sarah smiled. ‘I haven’t seen you in here before.’
‘I’m London-based, but I’m down for a few days’ break from the city grind.’
‘He works in a bank,’ said Harry, his tone pejorative.
Daniel laughed. ‘But don’t hold that against me, Miss Carver.’
‘Sarah’s from London,’ Fred informed him. ‘But she’s not like any city girl you know. Brought up on a building site, weren’t you, my dear?’
‘Mostly,’ she admitted, and smiled. ‘Though I did go to school now and then.’
‘Maybe you could see what’s happened
