at all. One that outlined her preferred project set-up, co-ordination, collaboration, and financing practices. One that granted the university beneficial ties to the foundation and in return requested that the university provide her with a management assistant. Preferably one eager to travel with or without her to dig sites in order to oversee operations. Preferably one who’d worked outside the academic arena and had real world skills in place as well as the necessary archaeology qualifications. Preferably Derek.
‘Seriously, Charlotte,’ said Millie, from her spot at the kitchen counter, where she’d taken to slicing up the walnut loaf she’d brought with her, ‘the entire department’s in an uproar about this foundation of yours and what’s in it for them—Derek loves the idea, by the way—but you not being around to explain your vision isn’t helping any. You need to get in there and get forceful if you want it to happen.’
‘I want it to happen,’ said Charlotte simply.
‘So you’ll be back at work on Monday?’
Charlotte nodded. ‘You want some coffee to go with your walnut slice?’
Millie nodded.
Charlotte set the coffee maker to gurgling. She headed for the fridge. Out came the milk for the coffee and double dollop cream for the cake.
‘So what prompted this Greenstone Foundation idea?’ asked Millie.
‘Aurora’s death,’ said Charlotte. ‘More money than I know what to do with. The need for a challenge. Not getting the leeway or the recognition I wanted from the university employment system. Take your pick. Life lacked purpose. The foundation will give me one. And flexibility as well. Happens I’m going to need that too.’
‘What does Gil think of your newfound purpose?’ asked Millie.
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Ah.’ Millie’s eyes turned sympathetic. ‘Guess you two didn’t sort out your differences, then.’
‘No. Some people never lose the wanderlust. Grey’s one of them.’
‘Who’s Grey?’
‘Gil,’ said Charlotte. ‘Thaddeus. Only he’s not Thaddeus either. He’s Greyson.’
‘The man has more names than a birth registry,’ muttered Millie, and bit into her now cream-slathered walnut slice.
Charlotte smiled and toyed with her own food. ‘So it seems.’ What to tell and what to withhold from a woman whose friendship she’d come to value? ‘Millie, will you keep a confidence for me?’
‘Is it likely to impact negatively on my work, my relationship with others, or my ethics?’ asked Millie.
‘Not really,’ said Charlotte. ‘Maybe a little.
It’s probably not going to do a whole lot for your opinion of me.’
Millie put down her slice, wiped her hands on the napkin, sipped her coffee, and set it down gently. First things first. ‘Okay,’ she said cautiously. ‘What’s up?’
‘Gil Tyler was a figment of my imagination. Grey Tyler is the man who came to collect his office. They’re not one and the same. And I haven’t finished yet.’
Harder than she’d thought, this unburdening of her sins. So many, many lies. It was time for them to stop.
‘Okay.’ Millie’s eyebrows had risen considerably. ‘Continue.’
‘Grey and I slept together a time or two. It was … intense. Amazing. But strictly short term. We parted ways relatively amicably.’
It seemed as good a summary as any, even if it did downplay the intensity of the real thing.
‘Sounds like a good time was had by all,’ said Millie.
‘And now I’m pregnant.’
Millie blinked, nodded slowly, and kept her mouth firmly shut.
‘Not deliberately,’ said Charlotte hastily. ‘This would be one of those extremely unexpected pregnancies. As opposed to a planned one.’
Another slow nod from Millie.
‘Millie, say something.’
‘Yes,’ said Millie. ‘Yes, I believe that is the custom. I just need a moment’s processing time. And we’re definitely going to need more cake.’
‘I have mountains of cake,’ said Charlotte. ‘Also ice cream, pickles, and caramel tart, just in case. All I’m after is your uninhibited response to my news.’
Millie sent her a speaking glance.
‘Although any response will do.’
‘Does anyone else know?’ asked Millie.
‘Not yet. You’re my practice run.’
‘Oh, the pressure to say something you might actually want to hear,’ murmured Millie. ‘I feel like I’m on a game show and you’re the host, waiting for my reply to the million dollar question.’ Millie put both hands to her head and groaned. ‘Can I phone a friend?’
‘Who?’
‘Derek.’
‘Only if you’re planning on inviting him over,’ said Charlotte. ‘I may need him for my second practice run. I think I’ve blown the first.’
Millie ran her hands over her hair and looked back up at Charlotte, her eyes imploring. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Say I can do this,’ pleaded Charlotte, brittleness giving way to uncertainty in the face of Millie’s continued hesitation. ‘Please, Millie.’ Before Charlotte’s tears started in earnest. ‘I need someone to tell me that I can do this and that everything’s going to be okay.’
‘Oh, Charlotte. Sweetie.’ Millie was on her feet, wrapping her arms around Charlotte. Contact and comfort. Charlotte gulped back a sob. ‘It will be okay. I know you. There’s nothing you can’t do when you put your mind to it. You’ll make a wonderful mother. You’ll see.’
‘What am I going to tell Greyson?’ whispered Charlotte.
But to that, Millie had no answer.
Derek arrived an hour and a half later, bearing Thai takeaway for three and a six-pack of beer. ‘I don’t do feel-good films and I don’t do tears,’ he said. ‘I’m here strictly to get the low-down on the Greenstone Foundation proposal.’
‘Of course you are,’ murmured Millie soothingly. ‘Shall we eat first?’
‘We should definitely eat first,’ said a freshly composed Charlotte.
Derek eyed the sweets laden kitchen counter sceptically. ‘You’re into the crisis food,’ he declared. ‘I’ve lived in enough foster homes to know crisis food when I see it and crisis phone calls when I get
