was apparent in his eyes. ‘They were no good?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, but your uncle wasn’t the easiest person to get on with. He was a demanding boss.’
‘My uncle started out with nothing and built a fortune in property worth millions. Of course he would expect a lot from his employees.’
‘Of course he did. And he got that—and more. But he was difficult as a boss. Impossible at times. If he was in the office he was shouting. In both cases they were good accountants, but Aristos was always shouting at them for one thing or another—I don’t think he trusted them to look after his affairs—and they just got sick of it. In the end they walked out, one after the other. The second one only lasted three months. Someone had to fill the gap immediately, and Sofia offered to look after Reception if I would do it. I’d been helping both of them out and it really wasn’t such a big deal.’
‘And Aristos didn’t employ another accountant? Why would he keep a receptionist in such a position of responsibility?’
Alex bristled. ‘Maybe because I do the job well.’
He didn’t look convinced.
‘If it’s any consolation, I think Aristos was surprised too. He was intending to advertise, but the employment agency didn’t seem too confident they could find the right person for this job—word had got back to them, obviously—and things here were going well. I was already studying for a business diploma at night—so he was relieved not to have to find someone else.’
And pay them accountant’s wages. If there was one thing Aristos loved more than bellowing his commands it had been a bargain, and with her he’d got a cheap accountant—even with the extra he’d reluctantly agreed to pay over her former receptionist’s salary.
‘Funny, but I don’t remember the young Alexandra looking forward to spending her life as some bean-counter.’
Alex went rigid. She’d relaxed a little, talking about her job, thinking about things present. He’d just transported her slap-bang into the past. A past she’d rather steer clear of now.
‘Funny, but I don’t think of myself as a “bean-counter”.’ She ploughed on, ignoring the black look he threw her. ‘Besides, I don’t think I knew what I wanted back then.’
She certainly hadn’t known what she’d need back then. Had had no idea she’d have a son to support with no chance of finishing school for years. Had never realised how hard it would be to try and manage time with her son when she had a full-time job and night school study. Hadn’t known how hard it would be to earn enough money to put a deposit on an ageing two-bedroom bungalow in the suburbs.
He tapped the pen loudly once more, this time on her desk, snapping her out of her thoughts. ‘And Aristos didn’t shout at you?’
She laughed a little, relieved he was talking about the more recent past once more. ‘Sure, he shouted. He shouted at everyone—including Sofia. But as a property investor, he wrote the book. I learned a lot working for him.’
It was true. It might have been unbearable, just as it had proved for the former employees, except she’d needed the money and the experience more. A few years in this job and she’d be finished with her diploma and could get a decent job with better pay. Aristos had given her a chance and she’d grasped it. For all his faults, he’d at least given her this opportunity, and she owed him for that.
But Aristos was gone, and it was his nephew now sitting in front of her. And yet still she hadn’t even offered the merest of condolences.
‘The news about your uncle must have come as quite a shock. I’m sorry…’
He watched her for a second, but it was as if his eyes were shuttered. Then he slammed the pen down on the desk in the same instant as he heaved himself away. He took a few steps, one hand rubbing his nape.
‘It was a shock—but nothing compared to what Sofia is contending with. To have lost her mother to cancer a decade ago, and now to lose her father so suddenly…’ He sighed, and for a moment looked so lost in his own thoughts that she sensed there was more to his statement than just compassion for his cousin.
He turned suddenly to face her, his eyes dark and fathomless. ‘My mother, Helena, was step-sister to Aristos. She died some six years back herself. Aristos and my father were as close as brothers while they were both alive, even though I didn’t know him that well.’
Alex swallowed. She’d never met Nick’s parents—but she’d heard enough about his father way back then to scare her socks off. It came as no surprise that he was related, even by marriage, to Aristos.
Even so, they had been Nick’s parents. Jason’s grandparents. And now he would never have the opportunity to meet them. Guilt stabbed deeper inside her.
When would she stop paying for the decision she’d made so long ago? The decision she knew was the right one.
‘Your parents…I didn’t know…’ She shook her head. ‘What happened to your father?’
‘Why should you know?’ he asked sharply, as if she had no right. Then his voice softened. ‘About two years ago now he drove off a bridge. Drowned before he could be rescued.’
‘That’s awful,’ said Alex. When they’d been on Crete both Nick’s and her own parents had been alive. It had been less than nine years ago and now Nick’s parents had gone. How long before hers too were no longer here?
She’d see them at Christmas, when they were planning to travel across the country from Perth to visit. But that was still weeks away. She’d call them tonight. The thought that they wouldn’t be there for ever…it was unimaginable.
To be so alone… She sucked in a breath. As she had countless times before, she thanked her lucky stars her sister Tilly had also chosen to make her home in Sydney, to pursue her growing wedding planner career. At least she had some family close by. For all that she was struggling to make ends meet, at least she had someone to turn to, someone to give her moral support when things got too bad. Sofia had no one. And nor, it seemed, did Nick.
‘I really am sorry. I had no idea.’
Nick stopped pacing and stood, propping his arms on the back of the visitor’s chair. His exhale came out like a sigh. ‘In a way it was a release for my father. I think he’d stopped living years before, when Stavros died.’ His eyes bore the pain of loss and tragedy, and as they sought and found hers something connected between them.
He remembered. She could tell.
It was the last time they’d spoken. She’d rung, flushed with excitement at her news. After months of hiding the truth she’d finally held her baby—their baby—and known that in spite of all the powerful reasons why she shouldn’t tell him she simply had to. He had a right to know he was a father. That he had a son.
Only when she’d finally made the connection to Nick’s house it had been to find the family in mourning for the eldest son.
How did you say, I’m sorry your brother is dead and congratulations—today you became a father in the same sentence? How did you drop a bombshell like that into a grieving family and expect them to embrace a new branch of the family they didn’t know existed and wouldn’t want to know? Not after what had happened to Stavros.
