tried to compose herself before she said, ‘We’re for it, Crystal and I. It would be daft to look a gift horse in the mouth.’
‘I think so. This is the sort of break that comes only once in a lifetime.’
‘And this person realises Crystal would be part of any venture?’ Marianne asked. That was of vital importance.
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Then we’ll do it. Who’s the mysterious benefactor?’ She’d been racking her brain for the last minute or two. She knew her father had had lots of good friends but most of them would find it difficult to raise the capital for a new car, let alone pay off a mountain of debt. It had to be a businessman in the town, one who’d known her father and who Tom trusted enough to listen to. That thought prompted Marianne to say, ‘Did you approach this person or did they come to you?’
‘It wasn’t quite as straightforward as that.’ There was a pause and then Tom said, ‘You remember Andrew Steed’s son?’
Marianne’s heart missed a beat. Not him. Anyone but him. He hadn’t even tried to hide his dislike of her.
‘He came to dinner last night and he was asking about you and so on. I’m afraid Gillian spoke out of turn and told him about the current situation.’
Oh, dear. Marianne could imagine how that had gone down with the solicitor. Her father’s friend was one of the old school and he played everything absolutely by the book. A client’s confidentiality was of paramount importance. She could imagine Gillian had received a lecture once they were alone.
‘Anyway, it appears that Andrew owns a string of hotels in America which Rafe now manages. Over the last few years since Andrew’s wife died and he became ill, he’s been looking to return to the old country to end his days. Rafe’s been in this area several times over the last twelve months apparently, looking for the right sort of place for his father. It’s leukaemia,’ he added.
‘I’m sorry,’ Marianne said mechanically.
‘Anyway, apparently he has good patches and not so good, and it’s not so good at the moment. Rafe feels his father’s better when he is motivated. He always was something of an entrepreneur, was Andrew. He went to America with nothing and now it would seem he’s an extremely wealthy man indeed. But I digress.’
Tom cleared his throat and Marianne waited.
‘Rafe was concerned with this desire to return home to die. That was his terminology, I might add. Not mine. He did not feel it was altogether healthy and furthermore that it was out of character. Seacrest might be just the sort of tonic his father needs. He can take as large or as small a part in the proceedings as he feels able to, but Rafe would want you to make Andrew a part of it. Humour him, if necessary.’
‘I see.’ She glanced at Crystal, who nodded. ‘I suppose that’s fair.’ They clearly didn’t have any choice in the matter.
‘Rafe was over here looking for a place for his father when he heard about the car crash from one of the locals. He told his father about it, who immediately wanted him to make himself known to you.’
‘I see,’ she said again, although she wasn’t altogether sure she did. ‘And has Rafe found somewhere for his father?’ If this Andrew expected to stay at Seacrest she could see the project was going to be made more difficult with a very sick man to consider.
‘Yes. A day before he heard about your parents’ accident he put in an offer for the Haywards’ place at the edge of the village. Made them an offer they couldn’t refuse, apparently.’
Marianne knew the house, a great thatched whitewashed cottage with a dream of a garden. ‘I didn’t know the Haywards were thinking of moving.’
‘There wasn’t even time for a For Sale board to go up. When the estate agent contacted Rafe he offered an amount to seal the deal immediately, which knocked anyone else out of the water.’ Tom’s voice was wry when he added, ‘I think he’s a lot like his father.’
Oh, dear. In that case she wasn’t going to like Andrew Steed one little bit.
‘How about we do lunch today, the four of us? You and Crystal and me and Rafe Steed? Iron out any wrinkles before we commit ourselves properly. I want you to be completely happy about all of this, Annie. Your father would expect me to guard your interests as best I can. I’ve already informed Rafe Steed he will need another solicitor to represent him as you are my client.’
This was all happening so fast. Marianne swallowed hard. But what was the alternative to agreeing to Rafe Steed’s amazing proposal? Losing everything, that was what. ‘Lunch would be fine,’ she said weakly.
‘One o’clock in The Fiddler’s Arms, then. To be honest, I’d like to get this sorted before Rafe changes his mind,’ Tom said, and she could tell he wasn’t joking.
When Marianne put down the telephone the two women stared blankly at each other for a second before Crystal gave a whoop and a holler that made Marianne jump out of her skin. ‘I’ll never say again there’s not a Santa Claus. Who would have thought this could happen? It’s unbelievable.’
Yes, it was a bit. Marianne let Crystal have her moment of joy but her main feeling was one of trepidation. It was a wildly generous offer and she was grateful to Rafe Steed—eternally grateful—but something didn’t sit right. She didn’t know what, but she’d bet her bottom dollar there was more to this than met the eye.
A little while later, as she walked up to her bedroom to get ready for the lunch date, she was no nearer to finding an answer for her inward unease. Whatever way she looked at this she couldn’t lose, could she? It was a win-win situation. On one side of the scales she lost everything, on the other she kept a fifty per cent stake in Seacrest and in the future might even be able to buy the Steeds out if all went well. OK, it might take years, decades even, but it was a possibility and one she would work towards.
Opening the bedroom door, she walked over to the wardrobe. She needed to look businesslike, she told herself firmly. Cool and businesslike and in control. She always left a selection of clothes at Seacrest for holidays and weekends with her parents, but they were much less formal than her things in London. She must have something that would do. She glanced at the charcoal dress and black jacket, which were still where she had thrown them on the night of the funeral.
No. She couldn’t bear to wear them again. Silly and emotional perhaps, but that was the way she felt.
The June day was a warm one, the sky blue and cloudless with just the slightest of breezes whispering over the garden and through the open window. Pulling out the most sombre dress in the wardrobe—a sleeveless sheer twisted tulle dress with attached dress underneath in pale brown—Marianne quickly divested herself of the jeans and vest top she was wearing.
Hair up or down? She surveyed herself critically. Up. More tidy and neat.
It only took a few seconds to loop her shoulder-length hair into a sleek shining knot, and she spent the remaining five minutes before she left the room applying careful make-up to hide the ravages a night spent crying had wreaked. True, her eyelids were still on the puffy side but only the most discerning eye would notice it.
By the time she joined Crystal, who was waiting for her in the hall, Marianne was satisfied that her overall persona was one of cool efficiency. Tom’s last words, although spoken lightly, had hit
