Page 46 of The Second Ending
The line connected, and in a minute, Nick answered with his usual greeting.
“Nick, it’s Marcus. I’ve got some bad news.”
Whatever he expected Nick to say, it wasn’t what he heard in reply.
“I’ve got some rather unexpected news for you as well. You first.”
“It’s about that property. I spoke to Lynch. Or, rather, he spoke to me, and it was not a pleasant conversation. The sale is dead.”
“Funny. That’s what my news is as well. I had the damnedest call this morning, and from the last person in the world I ever expected to call me. It looks like Lynch had another buyer lined up, and completed the sale last night. And there’s more. Are you sitting down?”
Oh, hell. What was this going to be about? He suppressed a groan and steeled himself for whatever it was that Nick was about to say.
The days passed.They were together again, after so long. Every impediment was behind them, no one else mattered. It should have been perfect. Even Emma had surprised her with a thoughtful peace offering, apologising for her outburst at rehearsal the other night. Then what, Ashleigh kept asking herself, was wrong?
It wasn’t her. She was as deeply in love with Marcus as she ever had been. The passage of eight long and grey years had only reinforced to her just how well suited they were to each other and how much she had missed him. She would not change a thing about him, except, perhaps, how he left cold pizza in the fridge uncovered. But no one was perfect.
Nor, did it seem, was it him. He was a bit consumed by the failed land purchase and the consequent turmoil at work, but he promised he would try to put that aside when he left the office. His personal time, he assured Ashleigh, was for her and her alone. He declared his love for her plainly and loudly, and every word and action supported this claim. He had cleared space inhis closet and drawers for her things, had made room in the bathroom for her creams and cosmetics, made certain he had her favourite foods in the kitchen, even replaced his old towels because he said they weren’t nice enough for her. As if she cared about silly things like towels. But the gesture spoke volumes.
His open avowal of love was sunshine in her heart.
Still, it was hard to ignore the consequences of her father’s vindictive deceit with the land deal. The Laconia Development Corporation was part of Marcus’ essence. He’d built the company up from the ground and poured everything he had into it, and now it was in some peril because of her horrible parent. It was impossible not to feel some guilt, and Ashleigh wished she had a way of recovering the deal.
Was that, then, the cause of the little burr under everything that left her feeling not entirely settled? Was it just the vestiges of guilt? Or was it something else?
You’re not good enough, the echo of her childhood taunted.If you were good enough, you’d be able to fix it. Could it be the remnant of so much unhappiness, that niggling, illogical dread that insisted if everything seemed to be going so well, there must be a catch. After all, she didn’t deserve this because she was somehow lacking. Her parents had always told her so.
She tried to banish the idea. Her parents were wrong. They had to be wrong. But as much as she repeated to herself that Marcus loved her just as she was, that taunting voice in the back of her mind couldn’t be silenced.
You’re not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough.
Marcus barely controlledhis agitation as he sat in the comfortable chair offered to him. The shiny office, all glass and wood, screamed Success with a Capital S. The chair was upholstered in real leather, and the tech on the huge conference table and on the surrounding walls was more than impressive. Only a brilliant oil painting in a kaleidoscope of primary colours interrupted the studied neutrality of the space.
He wiped his damp hands on his trouser legs and commanded his leg to stop jiggling up and down.
“What would you like in your coffee, Mr Fredericks?” the young man who had shown him into the room asked.
Whisky. Lots of it.
“Just a half spoon of sugar, please. No milk.”
“I’ll be back in a moment.”
The young man slipped out the door, leaving Marcus alone.
What was this meeting all about? Nick, who promised he’d be there as well, swore he had no idea. Damn. They’d already lost the deal. The land they’d coveted had been sold out from under them. What else could go wrong?
“Here’s your coffee.” The voice that accompanied the offered mug wasn’t that of the young man but rather, was a voice Marcus knew. He looked up.
“Will.”
Of course Will Pemberton would be there. This was his company’s meeting room, after all. What was his involvement in all this? He had been a minor investor on the now-doomed development project. Was it just to assess his losses?
“Thank you for coming. I hope this won’t be painful. I’ll wait until Nick and my EA get here, but I’d like to keep this part more informal, if you don’t mind. We— Oh, here they are. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Has Raj asked you both what you’d like to drink? Excellent.”
The others sat, and without preamble, Will launched into the topic.
“You have heard, no doubt, that the land originally proposed for Laconia’s residential development was purchased by another buyer. That buyer was me.”
