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The nerve of the man! Open-mouthed, she stared at him. ‘Don’t flatter yourself!’ she retorted heatedly, having no need of the reminder that he had no personal interest in her but, when he would not normally dream of going out with her, would if it would help out a friend and colleague who had been through very bad times. ‘You’re not married?’ she thought to question, committed, by the look of it, but already searching for a way out.
The trouble was, he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. It was all there in his silkily drawled, ‘You don’t get out of it that easily. I’m completely unattached—and like it that way.’
Romillie breathed out heavily. ‘Good for you!’ she erupted, niggled, and was more annoyed when he took out his business card and handed it to her.
‘Call me,’ he said.
She did not want his wretched card, but without another word took it from him. Fuming, she turned from him and went in search of her mother. ‘You don’t get out of it that easily’ he had said. She did not like the sound of that. Somehow, those words had sounded ominously like a threat!
CHAPTER TWO
ROMILLIE awoke early on Saturday morning, hardly able to believe the happenings of the previous evening. Naylor Cardell had thought her selfish and with little thought for anyone but herself. As if she cared what he thought! And he expected her to give him a call! He’d had that! She had no intention of ringing him ever!
She had not seen him again after she had walked away, so presumably he had viewed all he wanted in the art gallery. When she and her mother had been ready to leave Lewis Selby had enquired if they would care to join him somewhere for a bite of supper. Romillie had waited for her mother to reply, but hadn’t been surprised when she declined the invitation.
‘I think we’ll be on our way.’
‘You’ve enjoyed the evening?’ Lewis had asked, escorting them to where they had parked the car.
‘Much more than I thought I would,’ Eleanor had replied, and had given him such a sweet smile.
Romillie and her mother had discussed various paintings on the way home. But Romillie had been hard put to know how to reply when her mother got round to mentioning some of the people they had met, in particular one Naylor Cardell.
‘What did you think of him?’ she had asked.
Arrogant, curt, bossy, wanted taking down a peg or five, sprang to mind. ‘I should imagine he’ll make a very good successor to Lewis,’ was what she did say, which in fairness—given that she knew little about the business—she thought he probably would.
‘You seemed to be getting on well with him,’ Eleanor commented. ‘I glanced over to you a couple of times and you seemed to be chatting well away there—he was making you smile and laugh a lot, I noticed.’
Somehow, with her mother having had such a happy evening, it had not seemed fair to put a blight on it by confessing that, while her laugh had been genuine, her smiles—as well as his—had been bogus.
It warmed her though, that while she had kept her eye on her mother from time to time, to check she was coping all right on her first outing in a long, long while, her mother, it seemed, had likewise been keeping a motherly and protective eye on her daughter.
Over the next few days Romillie was able to observe that there was a growing dramatic change in her parent of late. She was generally much, much brighter than she had been. And on Wednesday when Romillie went in from work, she actually heard her singing as she pottered about the kitchen.
The reason for that, Romillie began to see, was because Lewis Selby had called that afternoon. ‘Is that an extra cup and saucer I see?’ Romillie asked lightly of the two cups and saucers on the draining board.
‘Lewis popped in,’ her mother replied.
Romillie had done nothing about phoning Naylor Cardell, but all at once she began to wonder if she should. She had an idea that Lewis Selby was in no hurry to complete closing up the house next door and putting it on the market. But his business there must surely finish soon.
From her own observations she had seen how knowing Lewis had done her mother nothing but good. Since knowing him she had come on in leaps and bounds.
She guessed he had an understanding of her mother that only someone who had been through the pulverising divorce he had been through could have. Instinctively Romillie knew that he would guard her mother. Which made her wonder how her mother would feel when Lewis did not come around any more.
But—Naylor Cardell…? Oh, for crying out loud, it was only dinner, for goodness’ sake! But he would be there too—now, that was the maggot in the apple.
Frustratedly, irritatedly, she chewed over having to meet the wretched man again. Could she, in the interests of getting her parent into the swing of socialising again, put up with him for a few hours?
With a heartfelt sigh Romillie reluctantly came to the conclusion that in an attempt to wean her mother away from her reclusive existence—whether Lewis Selby featured in her future or not—she had better make that phone call.
Though first she had to get her mother to agree to the foursome—it just did not bear thinking about, Romillie considered, that she should dine à deux, just her and Naylor Cardell there. Though from what she could remember of his obvious dislike of her that was never going to happen anyway.
She was still seeking a way to broach the subject when they were having their meal that night and she became aware that her mother was looking solemnly at her. ‘Have I gravy on my chin?’ Romillie asked puzzled.
‘You’re not—man-wary, are you, darling?’ Eleanor questioned in a rush.
‘No, of course not.’ Romillie protested.
But could see she was not believed when her mother pressed on worriedly, ‘You haven’t let the way your father is, the way he behaved in our marriage, put you off men in any way?’ she persisted.
If it had, and while she might privately be concerned in case she developed some of her father’s lax traits, there was no way Romillie was going to give her mother something else to worry about.
‘What brought this on?’ she asked with a laugh.
‘You,’ Eleanor replied, not laughing. ‘You never go out with a man more than a few times. And just when I was beginning to think you were going steady with Jeff Davidson you broke up with him.’
‘I’m perfectly happy as I am!’ Romillie protested.
But Eleanor was suddenly far more determined than she had been for a very long while. ‘I know you’ve had to spend a lot of time with me, and I regret that more than you know. But I’m okay again now, and I want to stand on my own feet. So I want you to promise me that instead of being negative the next time some agreeable man asks you out, you’ll say yes.’
This was quite a speech from her mother. ‘If it will stop you worrying—yes, yes, yes,’ Romillie cheerfully agreed, happily aware that she never went anywhere where she might meet one such.
‘Good,’ her mother responded. ‘Lewis told me this afternoon that Naylor Cardell had mentioned having dinner with you.’
‘That’s unfair!’ Romillie cried, trying to look outraged, but delighted to see a sudden gleam of wickedness in her mother’s eyes. Agreeable? Naylor Cardell!
‘You’ve just promised.’ She refused to let her back down.
And at that moment Romillie knew she had the opening she had been looking for—forget the ‘agreeable’ bit. But she tried to keep it very casual as she brought out, ‘I will if you will.’
‘I’m not with you?’
‘Lewis Selby asked you to have dinner with him,’ Romillie reminded her.
‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ her mother straight away exclaimed.
‘You could if we went in a foursome.’
Eleanor looked at her in amazement. ‘A foursome!’ She thought about it, and then decided, ‘You don’t want me with you. And what on earth would Naylor say?’
Romillie already had the answer to that—either your mother comes or I don’t. ‘That’s the deal,’ she said, and refused to budge.
‘But that will mean asking Lewis,’ she protested.
‘I’ll get Naylor to ask him.’
‘How did this all get so complicated?’ her mother prevaricated.
‘It’s not complicated. Lewis and Naylor, you and me, or nothing.’
‘But Lewis hasn’t asked me out again,’ Eleanor stated. Though, as if the idea was starting to sound not quite so unthinkable as it had, she suddenly looked as though she quite liked the idea. Even if she did insist, ‘I’ll come, but only if Lewis rings and asks me.’ With that she began to clear their dinner plates seeming a shade foxed all at once as she commented, ‘All I thought to do was to find out if you have a hang up about men—and suddenly it looks as if I’m to get my best dress out of mothballs.’
Romillie did not look forward to making that phone call, and got up the next morning with the fact that she was going to have to hanging over her like a dark cloud. But, since she did not want to make the call from her workstation, she went out to her car mid-morning and from there rang the number on Naylor Cardell’s business card.
‘May I speak with Mr Cardell?’ she asked the female who answered, and realised that the number gave her access straight through to his PA. She half hoped the PA would block the call or say he was not in.
But no such luck. ‘Who shall I say is calling?’ she enquired pleasantly.
‘Romillie Fairfax,’ she replied, and waited, wanting to terminate the call before she started.
‘Yes?’ clipped Naylor Cardell, not very enamoured to have his work interrupted.
‘We can make Saturday,’ she told him briefly, her tones not enamoured of him either.
‘Right,’ he said, and that was all.
But, fearing he was about to bang down his phone, Romillie hurriedly burst into speech. ‘But my mother will only agree if Lewis contacts her and asks her personally.’
‘I’ll see to it!’ Naylor clipped, without so much as a pause—and that was an end to the time he wasted on her.
That urge she had felt before, to set about him, was there again. She did not know what it was about him but Romillie experienced a quite dreadful desire to punch Naylor Cardell’s head. She half wished he had changed his mind and said that he wasn’t free on Saturday, and that dinner was off.
But, on leaving her car and going back to work, Romillie realised that to wish that would only make her as selfish as the dratted man thought she was. Not that she was concerned about his opinion. It was her mother that mattered.
But Naylor Cardell had ‘seen to it’, as he had said he would, and when Romillie went home at lunchtime it was to discover that Lewis had already been in telephone contact with her mother.
‘I said we would meet them in town to save them driving down here, but Lewis wouldn’t hear of it,’ Eleanor revealed. ‘He and Naylor will pick us up around seven—but I expect you already know that from Naylor.’
By half past six on Saturday evening, Romillie was starting to have grave doubts about the venture. Her mother was looking more and more uptight by the minute.
Which only went to make Romillie wonder if she should have left things well alone and let her mother come to a decision in her own time about whether or not she wanted to go out in male company.
At five to seven, with her parent growing more and more fidgety, Romillie was feeling very much that she had been wrong to collude with Naylor Cardell the way that she had. In fact, she was of a mind to go out and apologise to Lewis—and Naylor if she had to—and to tell them they would not be coming to dine with them after all.
Impossibly, however, when her mother had been pacing about for the last ten minutes, no sooner had Lewis arrived and said a quiet, ‘Hello, Eleanor,’ than her mother’s nerves about the evening seem to instantly fall away.
Looking completely relaxed with each other, they were already engaged in pleasantries when Naylor unfolded his long length from behind the steering wheel of the car and came to join them.
‘Romillie,’ he said.
‘Naylor,’ she replied.
And that would have been it as far as she was concerned—except that both her mother and Lewis seemed to be of the opinion that Naylor was her date, and insisted that she sit up front with him.
‘Had a good week?’ she enquired, after racking her brains for something to talk to him about as they drove along.
‘Can’t complain,’ he replied briefly. A minute ticked by, and then two. ‘You?’ he enquired.
Grief, this was like trying to harvest a field of wheat with a pair of blunt scissors! ‘Average,’ she managed, and began to be sure that the evening was going to be a complete disaster.
Strangely, it wasn’t. Not totally. Whoever had chosen the restaurant Naylor and Lewis took them to they had, Romillie saw, chosen well. There was plush carpeting, crisp linen, and room between the well-spaced tables for private conversation. If, that was, they could find anything to talk about.
But she had to give Naylor Cardell credit that, the idea of the four of them dining together being hers and not his, he did not leave it to her to keep the conversational ball rolling. As they started on their meal, he did away with desultory conversation and appeared to show an interest in her. She knew that it was purely for her mother’s benefit, but felt the oddest sensation inside when he looked across at her for long moments and seemed quite taken with her. She saw his glance flick over her just below shoulder-length long dark hair, stray over her unblemished complexion, before his striking blue eyes connected with her velvety brown ones.
‘Eleanor, I know, is a well-known artist of exceptional talent,’ he began engagingly. ‘Tell me, Romillie, have you inherited your mother’s gift?’
‘Er—I’ve tried, but I’m quite, quite hopeless,’ she stated honestly, endeavouring to hide the fact that his charm offensive had taken her unawares.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that, darling.’ Her mother joined in the conversation, amazingly, after the way she had been prior to seeing Lewis that evening, now thoroughly relaxed.
‘I think you must be seeing my poor efforts through a mother’s indulgent eyes,’ Romillie laughed, and, feeling unexpectedly relaxed herself all at once, fell silent for a while as Lewis joined in and the discussion centred around art, including talk of the exhibition all four of them had attended.
They were on to the next course when there was a lull in the conversation and Naylor again seemed to remember that, in the interests of furthering the budding friendship of Lewis and Eleanor, he should be showing more of an interest in Eleanor’s daughter.
‘What sort of work do you do, Romillie?’ he asked. ‘You never said.’
‘I work in a dental practice,’ she replied, realising she was honour-bound to play along.
‘You’re a dental surgeon?’
‘Nothing so grand,’ she answered, finding a smile. ‘I’m just a receptionist.’
‘As long as you enjoy it,’ he responded, and asked, ‘Have you been there long?’
‘About a year,’ she replied, and realised he was playing his interested man-friend part well when he did not leave it there.
‘What did you do before that?’ he enquired pleasantly.
Nothing, actually. But for no known reason, while she was sure she was not the smallest bit bothered about his opinion of her, Romillie discovered that—when he must work very hard—she didn’t wish that he should add lazy to his belief that she was selfish.
‘I—er…’ she stumbled—and was astonished that when she had spent the last five years doing what she could to protect her mother, her mother, plainly knowing her well enough to read her discomfiture, suddenly took on the role of protecting her!
‘Romillie was about to start university in the hope of one day being a forensic scientist, but she gave up her university place to stay at home and—keep me company when I became unwell,’ Eleanor butted in.
‘Mum…’ Romillie murmured. ‘You don’t have to…’
But Eleanor, her protective instinct dormant for so long, had woken up with a vengeance, clearly not wanting her daughter’s ‘escort’ to think her offspring had spent years in total idleness. ‘I was—very—down, and would have been lost without Rom,’ she went on to explain.
Romillie had never heard her mother talk like this, and, aware that Naylor’s glance had switched from her mother and on to her, started to feel a little embarrassed. ‘Mum, please,’ she protested.
‘It’s true, darling,’ Eleanor said affectionately. ‘You’ve had to be strong for both of us.’
Thankfully Lewis entered the conversation just then, to gently enquire, ‘How are you progressing now, Eleanor?’
‘Getting there,’ she replied, favouring him with a warm smile. ‘With my daughter’s help, I’m getting there. Romillie has taken this job well below her capabilities because it’s near enough to home that she can return in her lunch hour—or be with me inside fifteen minutes if I start to get a little bit panicky.’
Romillie by that time was feeling dreadfully torn—as well as embarrassed. On the one hand it was so good to hear her mother—if a little hesitantly—opening up. But on the other, recalling how only last Wednesday her parent had wondered if she had been put off men, Romillie could not help but think was she now trying to show Naylor, lest Romillie show him her ‘negative’ side, that her daughter really did have a caring, positive side. Oh, grief!
