Alexander stood outside his parents’ home, the place in which he’d grown up, and tried to ignore the knot in his gut that tightened with every passing minute. He took in the imposing white, stucco house and wondered when it had begun to feel alien to him. All manicured gardens on the outside and an elegant mix of modernisation that blended seamlessly with the home’s Regency features on the inside. A property designed to impress, while understatedly displaying their family’s status.
There was no personality within those walls. No splashes of colour or age-bobbled throws draped over sofas. No musky scent of books. No random wads of moulting cat fur to be picked off rugs. Or hints of violet perfume.
There was no Sophie.
Two days he’d been home. Two nights. And during that time he’d been unable to think of little else but her. Was she okay? How much did she hate him? Had his father bulldozed her into selling by playing on her past, on her financial troubles, on any and every little piece of weakness he could find?
Sophie had survived so much. Her parents’ passing. The betrayal of a lover. Nearly losing her shop. Despite all that she held an inner strength, a positivity, an attitude that nothing could get her down for long – but could that attitude withstand Frank Fletcher?
He drew in a deep breath. He’d soon find out. His mother had informed him their father would be joining them for dinner. She gave no hint as to his father’s mood. Neither had she let on that she knew what had happened in Herring Cove.
His mother, as always, was loyal to the Fletcher name. Loyal to her husband.
Rather than go through the front door, he made his way around to the back garden where he knew his mother, Veronika, would be sitting on the patio enjoying a pre-dinner Pimms.
‘Alexander darling, it’s so good to see you. I missed you at dinner last week.’
He bent over and kissed her cheek as was their customary greeting, then took a seat opposite her, relieved that her welcome was warm. That, unlike his father, she was not going to drag him across the coals for straying from the Fletcher way.
‘I missed you too, Mum. It’s good to be home.’
Veronika raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
She knew. Everything. Of course she did. Veronika and Frank were a team. Always had been. And their game plan was to raise a son who would take over the business and carry it on in the same way his grandfather had started it and his father had expanded it.
‘You know what happened down there.’ No point in niceties; he knew what was to come. Gentle disapproval from his mother, followed by a firm talking to by his father.
Veronika waved a bejewelled hand. ‘Your father filled me in. I was surprised to hear you’d taken up with a local girl. If you’re lonely, Alexander, I can set you up with any number of appropriate women. Mary’s daughter’s doing very well for herself. Works in marketing. She understands business, is very well presented, has what it takes to charm people into doing what she wants.’
Alexander didn’t bother hiding his shudder. She sounded awful. ‘I don’t want a manipulative woman at my side, Mother.’
‘You make it sound so tawdry, Alexander. Charm is just a different way of getting what you want. I use charm, your father uses information. You, my dear, use a mix of both. Would you call yourself manipulative?’
Alexander pulled a glass towards him, reached for the mint and fruit-stuffed jug and poured the tawny liquid into a glass. ‘I’d like to think that I offer people the best option – that’s why they respond to me. I don’t believe I could force a person into doing something they didn’t want to if I knew it was a bad idea.’
‘And you thought that girl signing away her bookshop was a bad idea? That’s why you didn’t pressure her?’
To the outside world, Veronika Fletcher was an attractive wife, a wonderful hostess, a polished conversationalist. What many didn’t see was her intelligence, her ability to get to the heart of any matter in a way that didn’t feel confrontational.
‘Sophie. That’s her name. And you’re right. I couldn’t pressure her. There was no point. She was never going to sell.’ An image of a folded square of paper that would never be opened came to mind, and a smile found its way to his lips. The first one since leaving Herring Cove. ‘We went in there thinking she’d sell because she was stuck with a bookshop she felt she couldn’t sell because her dead parents had opened it. We assumed that guilt and duty had kept her there. We were wrong.
‘She genuinely wanted to be there.’ Veronika nodded in understanding. ‘It wasn’t her place of work, it was her home.
‘It’s her heart. She’s been through so much, Mum. It’s the one constant she’s had in her life, and even though business had been declining, and it was so close to being taken from her, she refused to give up. She started a market to bring business into the area, an online shop, was prepared to sell her father’s first editions – something I don’t know that I could have done had I been in her shoes. She’s not just “the girl” or “a girl”; she’s an amazing, intelligent, determined woman…’
‘And you’re in love with her.’ Veronika summed it up with a raise of her eyebrows.
The breath whooshed from Alexander at the bluntness of his mother’s words. At the truth of them.
Had he really fallen in love with Sophie over the course of the week? Could love hit that hard? Maybe it was just infatuation…
‘You’ve dated plenty of women I would deem “intelligent”, “amazing” and “determined”, Alexander, but you’ve never put your career on the line for them. Never risked disappointing your father for them.’
‘And have I? Disappointed him?’ Anxiety swirled in his stomach. The answer was clear. Obvious in the pause his mother took before answering. In the way she couldn’t meet his eyes.
‘You have. You’ve never let him down before. Never not got the job done.’ Veronika freshened up her glass. ‘It’s not just the business side that’s upset him. It’s the manner in which you conducted yourself. He’s since spoken to some of the villagers and heard about your day at the beach, your pub dinners with the locals, your helping this Sophie of yours to rebuild her business when you were meant to be securing ours.’
The ever-present guilt that lurked beneath the surface since he’d returned home rose, squeezing his chest, reminding him of his duty to his family. Professionalism over pleasure. Family over friends. Work first, life last.
How could he say he was sorry though? How could he promise to never let it happen again? He couldn’t. Not when he wasn’t sorry. When if he could see Sophie again, if he could make things right, he would. In a heartbeat.
‘Your father is struggling to understand why you’ve done what you’ve done. I think I understand though, Alexander. Love doesn’t always make sense. Doesn’t always make us see sense. It can make us do things that make no sense.’
Alexander sat back in his chair, surprised by his mother’s words. ‘You sound like you know something of the nonsensical. Did you love someone before Dad? Before you were put together by your families because it made sense?’
Veronika placed her manicured hand on her chest and laughed, long and loud. ‘Oh, sweet boy. Your father is the only man I’ve ever loved. Yes, our families had a hand in bringing us together. They thought we’d be a good match and, initially, I was not happy. I had plans, you see. I didn’t want to be a wife of a man of industry. I wanted to go overseas for a bit, find myself. Maybe be a waitress. Work in a zoo. Go skinny-dipping on an exotic beach …’
Alexander held his hand up. ‘Whoa, too much information.’
‘I’m not sorry. You’ve only ever seen me as the woman I am now. Not the woman I was then. I met with your father under duress, and in seconds his straight-talking nature had me charmed. I tossed away what I thought I wanted and embraced the life I was meant to lead. And I’ve never regretted it. Not once.’
A new potential jolted the guilt stirring in his belly, as excitement began to pulse through him. Was his mother suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? That if he’d found love, it was his duty to do right by it?
Hope filled his heart, wove a silver lining around the grey cloud that had befuddled his mind since returning to London.
‘I know you and Dad only want the best for me. That you think my following in both Dad and Grandfather’s footsteps is the path I need to take if I’m to continue the Fletcher Group’s successful trajectory, but what if there’s another road I can take? One that will mean diversifying, but in a business-positive way?’
Veronika cocked her head. ‘I’m listening…’ She gave him an encouraging nod.
Buoyed by her interest, Alexander continued on, telling her his vision for Herring Cove.
‘It’s a beautiful place, Mum. Picturesque, quaint, untouched. With rugged cliffs that drop down to a golden beach. I want to transform it without destroying it. I want to create a boutique village that capitalises on its charm in order to encourage people to holiday there.’
Veronika shifted in her seat, lines ran horizontally across her forehead as she stared into the middle-distance. ‘I see what you’re getting at, but how would we make money? From what I can make of it, your vision would attract fewer people than a resort would, simply because there wouldn’t be the accommodation available.’
Cottages, empty but for the spiders that had set up home in the eaves and corners of the windows, came to mind. ‘There are plenty of homes that are unlived in. Abandoned, really. We could buy them, upgrade where necessary, rent them out at a premium price. They have unobstructed views of the water, and the sunsets are unlike anything I’ve seen before. I’d pay above and beyond for those alone.’
Veronika further furrowed her brow.
Think man, think. He hadn’t won her over. Not yet. The Fletcher Group cared about money. Making it. Saving it. And they cared about having the upper hand over their competitors. Surely there was an angle there…
He sprang out of his seat and began to pace the patio, hoping movement would get the ideas flowing. ‘We wouldn’t have to massively upgrade infrastructure, so we’d save money there. The farm we were planning to put the golf course on could be transformed into a five-star B&B, with private cottages complete with outdoor baths dotted around the property. It could house a restaurant specialising in local, organic produce, as well as fresh fish caught locally. Free-range meat from local farms. I know a chef who could be interested. He’s always up for a challenge, and he’s into the slow-food movement. Not unamenable to some show-ponying in food magazines either. From a PR perspective, it’s gold. A company known for throwing up resorts taking a different approach, one that’s in keeping with the local way of life? One that will revive a dying village? It’s got the feel-good factor written all over it.’
Alexander paused and took a sip of his drink. His mother hadn’t cut him off. Hadn’t clucked her tongue. Hadn’t given any indication that she hated the idea. She was a master at hiding her true thoughts, but he was sure he saw a sparkle in her eye, one that grew as he’d outlined his plans. ‘I know it seems so far from what we do, but I have a good feeling about it. And my good feelings are never wrong.’
Veronika tapped her chin. ‘Your father will think it a terrible idea. He prefers wealth creation to be fast and furious.’
‘Don’t I just.’
Alexander twisted round to see Frank in the doorway.
‘Don’t tell me you’re still going on about Herring Cove.’ Frank poured himself a drink and took a seat, indicating for Alexander to sit opposite.
Alexander didn’t budge, instead drew himself up tall as he could. ‘Dad, I mean this with all respect, but if I’m going to be the future CEO of the Fletcher Group, you are going to have to trust me. Trust my instincts. Trust that I am capable of doing a good job of keeping what you and Grandfather built, on my own terms.’
Frank hooked a leg over his knee and leaned back in his chair.
Alexander had seen that move more times than he could count. It was a power play. It said ‘I’m willing to hear you out’, but what it really meant was ‘I’ll listen, but I’m never going to agree.’
Alexander relaxed his demeanour and took his seat, kept his hands loose. His smile easy.
His father wanted to play? He’d play.
To win.