to?’
Mirroring his pose, she fluttered her eyelashes. ‘How about to the future?’
‘Perfect.’ Owen drained the sparkling liquid from his glass and tried to ignore the ping of his phone. Claire’s mouth tightened as he reached for it. With a swipe of his thumb he turned it off then tucked it in the inside pocket of his jacket. Work could wait for a couple of hours. He’d been the one to suggest their date, the least he could do was give her a nice evening. Reaching across the table, he took her hand. ‘I’m all yours. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to lately?’
The rest of the evening went well. Once she’d got over her initial mood, Claire proved to be as interesting and knowledgeable as he’d originally hoped. Beneath the labels and the perfect spray tan sat a sharp mind and a level of ambition to match his own. As they lingered over coffee, the spectre of the lost deal with Taylors came back to haunt him. Regardless of his gut instinct that turning down the deal was the right thing to do, he hated losing something he’d worked so hard for.
Fingers touched his. ‘Earth to Owen.’
Shaking his head, he pushed his work worries to one side and offered Claire a smile. ‘Let’s get out of here, shall we?’
Her lashes flicked down then up. ‘I’d like that.’
The taxi stopped outside a neat block of flats and he ducked his head to study them through the window. Not the best part of the area, but by no means the worst and he knew the local council were working with investors on several regeneration projects. Give it a few more years and the place would be worth considerably more than current market value.
‘Are you coming up for coffee?’ Ah. The universal code for extending the evening. On autopilot, he paid the cab fare and slid out after Claire. As she fumbled around in her oversized handbag, an image of the two of them a few years down the line formed in his mind. They were sitting at a long dining table in an immaculate flat full of chrome and granite and all the latest gadgets. To his left and right sat two rows of shiny, well-to-do couples in grey suits and neutral body-con dresses chattering about their latest holidays to somewhere exotic. The right place, the right wife, the right friends, it was exactly the kind of thing he’d dreamed of as a kid scuffing along streets like this in a too-thin coat picked up from the local charity shop for a couple of quid. Now, though, it seemed cold and lifeless, more nightmare than fantasy. A shudder rippled down his spine and he took a step backwards.
‘There it is!’ Claire gave a little laugh of relief as she slid the errant key into the lock and pushed open the door. She’d made it a couple of steps inside before she realised he’d made no move to follow. ‘Owen?’
His feet were glued to the pavement. His future was right there in front of him, but all he wanted to do was run. ‘I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me, Claire. I’ve got a bit of a headache, so I’m going to pass on that coffee.’ And anything else that might come after it.
‘Oh.’ Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. ‘Well, if you’re sure?’
If he crossed her threshold, she’d want something more from him than one night and she deserved it—just not from him. Owen nodded. ‘Goodnight, Claire.’ Tucking his hands in his trouser pockets, he forced himself to stroll down the front steps—rather than sprint as his brain was urging him to—and turned randomly to his left, desperate to get away from the eyes he could feel boring into his back. At least he’d done the right thing and walked away now before things got any further down the road between them. The thought didn’t make him feel any better.
He wandered aimlessly for a few streets, trying to get his head around the jumble in his brain. Claire was perfect for him, so why didn’t he want her? The blue-haired pixie’s face popped into his head and he shoved the image away with a silent curse. He needed to forget about her, and everything else about Lavender Bay in the process. There was nothing there for him. He’d made it through the last thirty years without his mother, hadn’t he?
A fine drizzle drifted from the sky adding another layer of misery to his mood. Ducking into an empty shop doorway, he withdrew his phone and switched it back on in order to summon a cab. He’d barely clicked on the app when the phone started ringing. Hoping it wasn’t Claire checking up on his non-existent headache, he was relieved to see an unfamiliar dialling code on the screen. Did he even know anyone who used a landline these days? He swiped to answer. ‘Hello?’
‘Oh…umm…hello, is that Mr Coburn?’ The deep country burr was about as far from Claire’s clipped tones as Owen could imagine. He’d spent a weekend surrounded by that rich accent, and all thoughts of his disastrous date fell away as a sense of anticipation filled him.
‘Speaking.’
‘Ah, right then. I hope you don’t mind the lateness of my call, it’s been a very busy day and I’ve been in two minds over whether I should even be bothering you at all. I want the best for me and my girl, see, and I heard on the grapevine you might be looking to buy a property down here in Lavender Bay, and it seems like too good an opportunity to pass up. I was thinking about retiring next year, so I think we could help each other out. You’d have to promise not to breathe a word about it until after Christmas as I need to get a few things in order and I haven’t talked to my girl about it. I know she’ll be on board though, once I explain it all to her properly. She’s had no life here, you see, and I’ve not been able to give her the chance she deserves to get out and see the world for herself. Well, not until now, that is…’ The stream of consciousness pouring into Owen’s ear trailed off leaving him not much the wiser.
‘I’m not quite sure what you’re saying, Mr…?’
‘Stone. Mick Stone. I heard you were looking for a business to buy in Lavender Bay and I’ve got one to sell, but maybe I got that wrong? Beth was talking about it in the emporium, see, and there was your business card sitting on her counter so I popped it in my pocket.’
All those good intentions of forgetting about Lavender Bay fell away in an instant as his heart began to pound. If he believed in providence, he’d take this as a sign. Getting himself established in the community might be the key to finding some answers about his family. It didn’t have to be forever, but people might open up to him if they got used to seeing him around the place. Worst case scenario, he could spend a couple of months doing up the place, turn it around for a profit and walk away again. Hope bloomed inside, and he had to fight to keep the excitement out of his voice. ‘No, Mr Stone, you didn’t get it wrong. Please tell me more…’
‘Now you’re sure you don’t mind me popping out for a bit, Libby-girl?’
Libby bit back an exasperated sigh and turned instead towards her father with a smile. ‘Of course not, Dad.’ Taking in the whiteness of the collar of his shirt half-trapped beneath the lapel of his best jacket, she cocked her head. ‘You look smart, got yourself a hot date?’ She’d meant it as a tease—though nothing would please her more than if her long-widowed father found a companion to share his life with—but regretted the words as an ugly flush mottled Mick Stone’s cheeks.
Gaze dropping to the cap clutched between his fingers, Mick shook his head. ‘Nothing like that, lovey, just a bit of business. The accountant wants to discuss last quarter, the usual stuff.’ Libby relaxed. The books were all in order, but their accountant still liked to keep in regular contact. It was a personal touch she knew her dad appreciated. And just maybe
