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Monday morning found Grant in his boss’s office, giving him a rundown of his trip out to the scrap yard. Well, the edited highlights, anyway.
“It’s not going to work out,” Grant insisted, perching on the edge of Cecil’s desk. “He took an instant dislike to me.”
Cecil leaned back in his leather recliner and eyed Grant disparagingly. “Surely you emphasised all the things he’d be able to do with such a handsome sum of money?”
“Of course I did. But he’s canny. He knows the land’s got to be worth a lot more than that to us, and besides, I don’t think he’d sell at any price.”
“Nonsense. Everybody has their price.”
Grant wasn’t so sure anymore. “Maybe, but I doubt we can afford his.”
Cecil tapped his fingertips together. “We need that land, and I don’t want any of the competition getting in there first and giving him a better offer. You’ll just have to negotiate. You can go up to two million if you have to. You can’t honestly tell me some lowlife druggie is going to turn down that much money.”
“I don’t think he’s into drugs,” Grant protested, although for all he knew, Derek could be. It wasn’t like he actually knew the man. He might know that Derek smelled of musk and diesel, and the way his stubble felt against Grant’s chin, but besides the obvious physical charms, he knew next to nothing. He had no idea how the man spent his free time. But somehow he didn’t think Cecil was right about Derek having some kind of habit. Derek looked too virile. Bursting with health. “I think he’s just strongly principled. He’s more of a punk than a hippie. Got that whole antiauthoritarian, stick-it-to-the-man attitude going on.” Derek had wanted to stick it to Grant quite literally, as he’d made more than clear. The memory made his loins stir in interest, even as his head screamed NO!
“Give him a couple of days to think about all that money, and then get back down there and hustle. It’ll work out. You’re my best closer, and if you can’t do it, no one else stands a chance.”
Grant winced at Cecil’s choice of words. It sounded like it wasn’t going to be worth Grant angling for someone else to take over from him, Cecil’s faith wasn’t generally misplaced—Grant did have a well-earned reputation for sealing lucrative deals. It was just a shame he couldn’t see any of his usual wining-and-dining tactics working with Derek.
But maybe if he made himself available in other ways and really did hustle...
A shiver ran down his spine. Would it even work? Derek had said it wouldn’t make any difference if Grant let him have his way, but maybe that was just talk. It could be worth another try. But what if word got back to Cecil? Grant wasn’t out at work yet.
He planned to be. Just...not yet.
Grant realised Cecil was staring at him quizzically, and he yanked his attention back to the prospective land deal.
“I’ll see what I can do. But if he won’t take the two million, then there won’t be anything else we can do.”
“Rubbish. There’s always something. If persuasion doesn’t work, then we just have to find his weak point. A man like that is probably breaking the law in some way. If it’s not drugs, he’ll be involved in some other illegal activity. The used-car trade is notorious for it. Actually, that’s worth investigating first.” Cecil’s face brightened. “Hold back on the two mill. I want you to look into his operations. Find out if there’s anything we can use to put pressure on him. Hire a private investigator if you need to. But while you’re at all of that, keep him sweet. I want him to see us as the good guys. Lull him into a false sense of security before we shaft him.”
Imagining shafting Derek probably wasn’t a good idea right now. “Right. Okay. What’s my budget for this?”
“Whatever you need, within reason. That land could make us a huge profit, so a few thousand in the meantime makes no odds.”
A few thousand to sell Derek up the river. It was standard business tactics in a field as competitive as theirs, Grant knew. And he’d always admired Cecil’s ruthless pursuit of financial gain.
But for some reason, he didn’t like the idea of investigating Derek. It wasn’t terribly sporting and although that had never bothered him before, this time it did for some reason. Next to them, Derek had practically nothing, so it really wasn’t a fair fight. But scruples were a hindrance in his business, so Grant acted like everything was fine and headed back down the corridor to his office.
Once there, he could feel a headache coming on. Times like this, he always used to give Harriet a call. She’d know the right thing to say to help ease his conscience. Not for the first time, he found himself missing his wife terribly.
Could he call her now? Things had been horribly strained between them, and he’d been keeping his distance, but it had been three months now. Three months of nothing but texts and emails—and even then Harriet would only ever write about the girls or ask him if he wanted various items around the house that she considered his rather than hers. And the couple of times he’d seen his daughters since the move, they’d already been dropped off at his parents’ house and there was no sign of Harriet.
He wanted to hear her voice.
Before he could second-guess himself, Grant called her on his mobile. He waited while the phone rang and rang. It wasn’t like her not to answer, but then again, she’d be able to see it was him, wouldn’t she? The same thing went for if he tried to use the office phone.
Blast.
Grant went for a text instead. Would love to talk when you’re ready. I’d like to start seeing the girls regularly, and it would be good for them to see that we don’t hate each other. Let me know when would be a good time to speak to you. G x
He understood her hurting. He really did. But without his emotional anchor, he wasn’t sure how he’d manage to cope with stressful times at work. Not to mention all the other stresses going on in his life right now. He stared at the picture of Harriet on his phone screen. She had an arm around each of their daughters, and they were all in flowery summer dresses. He’d taken it last year at a friend’s wedding—now Harriet’s friend rather than his, he expected—and he’d thought they all looked beautiful. Okay, so it was the best man who’d made his loins stir with desire, but he still appreciated feminine beauty from an aesthetic standpoint. Who wouldn’t?
Looking at his two little girls just made him miss them more, and on impulse, he searched for Izzy’s number. They’d got her an iPhone when she started her new school last year, and ever since, she’d been pretty much glued to the thing. There was a good chance she’d answer as school should be out by now.
Izzy answered on the fifth ring. “Dad?” The cautious tone made Grant’s heart wince, but he did his best to ignore it.
“Hey, how’s my favouritest thirteen-year-old in the whole world?”
“Dad, I bet I’m the only thirteen-year-old you know.” She sounded like she was probably rolling her eyes now, but it was better than her being wary of him.
“I know others. I’ve met your friends, haven’t I?”
“I suppose. Why are you calling? Something wrong?”
“I don’t need a special reason to call my daughter, do I? I just wanted to hear your voice. Find out what you’ve been up to.”
“Err, okay. What do you want to know?”
Grant sighed. Maybe he’d have been better off speaking to Charlotte, who at seven could always be guaranteed to babble away cheerfully about ponies and so on. But then again, Charlie didn’t have her own phone. But he started with some easy questions. “What are you up to now? Are you home yet?” He thought he could hear the vrooming of cars in the background, but that could have been the main road near his house. His former house.
“No. Me and Charlie are walking to the stables.”
“Oh yes? I didn’t think you had lessons after school.”
“We don’t, but Grace said we could come over and clean tack and rub them down if we wanted to.”
“Sounds like she’s using you for slave labour. I hope you’re being paid at least minimum wage. Don’t accept payment in magic beans, whatever you do.”
“Da-ad.” That singsong of exasperation made him smile. That was the Izzy he remembered. “We love cleaning tack anyway. And we’ll get a chance to exercise the ponies for a bit too, so it’s kind of like a free lesson anyway.”
“That’s great, sugarplum.” Grant could hear Charlie in the background clamouring for a go on the phone and smiled. He was still popular with someone, anyway.
“Charlie wants to speak to you,” Izzy said. “Stop trying to grab my phone, Charlie. Wait your turn.”
“Let her say hello and get whatever it is off her chest, and we can chat again in a minute.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Daddy! Today in class, India brought in two little kittens, and oh my gosh, they were so sweet! I want kitties! Can we have some, Daddy? Please?”
“I think you need to be asking your mum about that really.”
“But Mummy always says no because they make her all sneezy. But they don’t make you sneezy, do they, Daddy?”
Grant chuckled. “No, they don’t.”
“Daddy, are you coming back to live with us?”
Oh God, that was the question Grant had been dreading. He softened his voice and chose his words carefully. “I don’t think so, honeybun. Me and your mummy make each other sad at the moment. It’s best for us to live in different houses. But I still love you two just as much as when I lived there. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Mummy said you did.” Charlie was quiet for a few seconds, and Grant worried another humdinger of a question was headed his way. “Hey, I know. Why don’t you get some kitties, and then we can see them when we come and stay with you.”
“Kittens? Oh honeybun, that’s a lovely idea, but I’m not sure about kittens. I might not be there enough to look after them properly.” He’d really wanted a dog to make up for losing Mabel, but the same problem applied. “How’s Mabel doing, anyway?”
“The other day, she chewed up Mummy’s slippers, and Mummy was cross.” Charlie sounded proud of herself for imparting such important news, and Grant relaxed some more. After a few more minutes of Charlie’s cheerful chatter, he asked to speak to Izzy again.
Izzy was more reserved, but there were things he needed to ask her that Charlie just wouldn’t be able to answer. “Sugarplum, I was thinking, how would you feel about coming to stay with me in Bristol for the weekend sometime? There’s lots of fun things we could go and do together, like the zoo and all kinds of museums.”
“I don’t know. What about my riding lessons?”
Grant fought down his exasperation. “It would only be occasionally. I’m sure you could arrange to have another lesson during the week to make up for it.”
“Yeah... I suppose.” Her enthusiasm was underwhelming. “Where would we sleep?”
“I’ve got a spare room. At the moment, it’s an office, but I could get some bunk beds.”
“I’m not a baby anymore, Dad. I grew out of bunk beds years ago.”
“Of course you did. Grown-up beds it is, then. Why don’t you both choose some bedding you like online, and you can send me the link, and I’ll buy it for you.”
“Do we get to choose lamps and bedside tables and stuff like that too?”
Grant’s wallet would probably take a beating, but if made his girls excited about coming to see him, then it would be worth it. “Why don’t you make a list of everything you’d like, and I’ll get as much of it as I can manage.”
“Cool. Okay, then. Listen, Dad, we’re at the stables now. Got to go.”
“I love you, sugarplum,” Grant said, but she’d already hung up.
He stared at the phone for a few minutes, wondering what he was letting himself in for—turning his bachelor pad into a palace for two pony-obsessed girls had never been part of his plan for the place—but the pleasure in seeing his girls regularly definitely outweighed his decor misgivings. Screw it. He’d hire a decorator and get the room painted pink if they wanted. New carpets and everything. They were worth it. He sat down at his desk and started dealing with his admin in a better mood than he’d imagined possible.