can source anything you need, put together any party, any plan. I wanted to hire her to organise our Christmas.’
Heather sounded pitying as she said, ‘Jacob. Don’t you think that’s just a little bit desperate? If you wanted to see your ex-wife, you could have just called her up.’
‘Wife,’ he corrected automatically, then wished he hadn’t. ‘We’re still married. Technically.’
His sister sighed. ‘It’s been five years, Jacob. When are you going to get over her?’
‘I’m over her,’ he assured her. ‘Very over her. Trust me. But she knows Dad and she knows the family. She could make this Christmas everything it needs to be, far better than I ever could. You probably don’t remember the parties she used to throw...’
‘I remember them,’ Heather said. ‘They were spectacular.’
‘Look, she hasn’t even said yes yet. And if she doesn’t I’ll find someone else to do it. It won’t be the end of the world.’ But it wouldn’t be the perfect Christmas he wanted either. Somehow, he knew in his bones that only Clara could give them that. She had a talent for seeing right to the heart of people, knowing exactly what made them light up inside—and what didn’t.
He wondered sometimes, late at night, what she’d seen inside him that had made her leave. And then he realised he probably already knew.
‘Okay,’ Heather said, still sounding dubious. ‘I guess I’m in, in principle. But Jacob...be careful, yeah?’
‘I’m always careful,’ he joked, even though it wasn’t funny. Just true.
‘I’m serious. I don’t want to spend my Christmas holiday watching you nurse a broken heart. Again.’
Jacob shook his head. ‘It’s not like that. Trust me.’
Not this time. Even if he was harbouring any residual feelings for Clara, he would bury them deep, far deeper than even she could dig out.
He wasn’t going to risk his heart that way a second time. Marriage might be the one thing he’d failed at—but he would only ever fail once.
‘WHAT DID HE WANT?’ Merry asked the moment Clara picked up the phone.
Clara sighed. ‘Hang on.’
Peeking around Ivy’s door one last time, she assured herself that her daughter was firmly asleep and pulled the door to. Then, phone in hand, she padded down the stairs to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine and headed for the sofa.
‘Right,’ she said, once she was settled. ‘Let’s start with your thing at the art gallery. How was it?’
Merry laughed. ‘Not a chance. Come on, your ex-husband walks into our offices right before Christmas, after five years of nothing except letters from his lawyers finding reasons to put off the divorce, and you think I’m not going to want details? Talk, woman.’
So much for diversion tactics. ‘He wanted to hire Perfect London.’
There was a brief moment of shocked silence on the other end of the phone. Clara took the opportunity to snag a chocolate off the potted Christmas tree in her front window and pop it in her mouth.
‘Seriously?’ Merry said at last. ‘Why?’
‘God only knows,’ Clara replied, then sighed again. ‘No, I know, I suppose. He wants us to arrange a perfect last Christmas for his dad. He’s sick. Very sick.’
‘And he thought his ex-wife would be the best person to organise it because...?’
It wasn’t as if Clara hadn’t had the same thought. ‘I guess because I know him. All of them, really. I know what he means when he says “a perfect Christmas for Dad”. With anyone else he’d have to spell it out.’
‘So nothing to do with wanting to win you back, then,’ Merry said, the scepticism clear in her voice.
‘No. Definitely not.’ That, at least, was one thing Clara was very sure of. ‘He offered me a divorce if I do it.’
‘Finally!’ Merry gave a little whoop of joy, which made Clara smile. Sometimes, having a good friend on side made everything so much easier. Even seeing Jacob Foster again for the first time in five years. ‘Well, in that case, we have to do it.’
‘You haven’t heard the fine print.’ Clara filled her in on the details, including the whole ‘have to travel to Scotland on Christmas Eve’ part. ‘It’s just not doable. Especially not with the Charity Gala at New Year to finalise.’ Which was a shame, in a way. A project like this would be a great selling point for future clients. And a good testimonial from Foster Medical—especially alongside delivering a great event for the Harrisons—could go a long way to convincing people that Perfect London was a big-time player. It could make the next year of their business.
Merry was obviously thinking the same thing. ‘There’s got to be some way we can pull it off.’
‘Not without disrupting Ivy’s Christmas,’ Clara said. ‘And I won’t do that. She’s four, Merry. This might be the first proper Christmas she’s able to remember in years to come. I want it to be perfect for her too.’ Of course, it could also be an ideal opportunity to discover if Jacob was ready to hear about the existence of his daughter. The guilt had been eating her up ever since he’d left her office that evening. Watching Ivy splash about in her bath, tucking her in after her story... She couldn’t help but think how Jacob had already missed four years of those things. And even if he didn’t want to be part of them, she knew she owed him the chance to choose for himself.
Except that he’d already made his decision painfully clear five years ago. She had no reason to imagine that decision had changed—apart from him wanting to organise Christmas for his family. Was that enough proof? How could she be sure? Only by spending time with him. And there was the rub.
‘You always want everything to be perfect,’ Merry moaned. ‘But I take your point. Does...does he know? About Ivy?’
A chill slithered down Clara’s spine. ‘I don’t think so. Not that it would be any of his business, anyway. I didn’t fall pregnant with her until after I left.’ She hated lying. But she’d been telling this one for so long she didn’t know how to stop.
If she told Jacob the truth, she’d have to tell Merry too. And Ivy, of course. And Jacob’s family. She’d be turning everybody’s lives upside down. Did she have the right to do that? But then, how could she not? Didn’t Jacob’s father deserve the chance to know his granddaughter before he died? Or would that only make it worse, having so little time with her?
What on earth was she supposed to do? When she’d left, it had all seemed so clear. But now...
‘I know, I know. Your one and only one-night stand,’ Merry said, still blissfully ignorant of the truth, and Clara’s internal battle. ‘Still, it might make a difference if you explained why you can’t go to Scotland for Christmas. Maybe he’d be satisfied with me going instead, once you’ve done the set-up.’
‘Maybe,’ Clara
