Читать книгу Best Friend...Future Wife - Claire Baxter - Страница 7

‘ARE you really home to stay?’ Poppy said through a mouthful of salad.

Luke looked at his little sister. He found it hard to believe that she’d grown up so much since he’d last seen her. ‘How many times do I have to say it?’ he said with feigned exasperation.

‘Yeah, I know, but really?’ Poppy said. ‘Won’t you be bored?’

Luke shrugged. ‘Don’t think so.’

‘But there are no wars around here. Nothing bad ever happens in Adelaide.’

‘Thank God for it,’ Dawn said. ‘We are very lucky to live in one of the safest cities on earth. I should think Luke’s had quite enough of war and poverty and the like. If he has the sense he was born with, he’ll want to stay well away from all of that.’

He smiled at his mother. She’d never missed an opportunity to tell him he was crazy for choosing to make his home where he had. But she’d never criticised him either. Though she couldn’t understand his choices, she’d always respected his right to make them.

Both his parents had. His gaze drifted to his father. His salt-and-pepper hair was now almost all salt. He hoped he hadn’t caused him too much worry over the years.

Next to their father, his sister Megan was deep in discussion with their brother-in-law, Patrick. It seemed Lyn’s marriage had not only survived, but thrived. His gaze moved on to Lyn, the baby in her arms and her son at her side. His niece and nephew. He’d have time to get to know them better now, and he fully intended to.

Skinny Lynnie, as he’d always called her, had gained weight. It suited her. She caught his eye and gave him a cheeky wink. He grinned back. So close in age, they’d been more like best friends than brother and sister. All three of them, in fact. His gaze shifted to Della, the third member of their little gang.

If he thought his sisters had changed, he couldn’t find words to describe the transformation in Della. She was still small and slender, but more confident. More sure of herself and her appeal. She looked…serene. As if nothing could ruffle her. And she exuded femininity. Her beautifully cut, very short hair showed off great cheekbones, and he liked the way her neck curved above the collar of her business jacket. In the past, it had been hidden by a swathe of long, dark hair which had often fallen across her face. A shield between her and the world.

She must have grown out of her shyness to have cut her hair. Well, it had never really been shyness. More like embarrassment for who she was and where she’d come from.

Della lifted her head to look at Lyn and her eyes nearly knocked him out. Large, dark and slightly slanted. She’d accentuated their shape with make-up, and he had to admit her eyes were a striking feature without the long hair obscuring them.

He continued to watch her, couldn’t bring himself to look away. She smiled as she chatted to Lyn, fussed over Jamie, teased Poppy. But her eyes…They didn’t smile. He could almost believe she was sad. But why, when she seemed to have everything going for her?

Not grieving for her parents, surely? They didn’t deserve a second thought from her. His gut tightened. A whole raft of memories came flooding back. Amongst other things, he remembered his mother taking Della to the doctor and telling him later that Della’s small size was a result of malnutrition during her formative years.

In recent times, he’d seen plenty of children suffering from malnutrition, and it made his blood boil to think it had happened to Della and here, in Australia, one of the more affluent countries in the world. He knew his own parents had considered initiating adoption proceedings, but something must have gone wrong. They would have adopted her if they could.

As he watched her, Della smiled down at Jamie. When her lips parted and she moistened them with the tip of her tongue, Luke experienced a subtle shift in his stomach. It felt a lot like sexual attraction, but it couldn’t be.

‘So what are you going to do, son?’

Luke jerked his gaze from Della and leaned back in his chair as he focused on his father. ‘About what?’

‘Work.’

He smiled. ‘I’ve had a job offer.’

‘You have?’ Frank mopped at his mouth with his napkin.

He nodded. ‘It’s not finalised yet, so I don’t want to say much about it, but it’s with the charity I’ve been working for in India.’

‘And it’s here in Adelaide?’

‘Yes.’

A clatter drew Luke’s eyes to Della again, and he saw her cheeks grow pink as she retrieved her fork from the floor.

‘Talking of jobs, Shrimp, when are you going to desert the enemy?’

The colour in her cheeks deepened. ‘Enemy?’

‘Okay, enemy is a bit strong.’ He shrugged. ‘But you public relations people, you’re the gatekeepers. The ones who stop hard-working journos like me from getting at the nitty gritty.’

She frowned. ‘Without PR people like me, you journos would have to work a hell of a lot harder. We do most of the work for you by providing all the information you need.’

‘All the information you want us to have, you mean.’

‘Without us, you’d have to get off your backsides and look for the stories yourselves.’ She felt a stab of guilt at using this old argument against Luke, who could never be accused of taking the easy way out. He was far removed from that type, but she was on the defensive. She went on. She couldn’t help herself.

‘The vast majority of items in the news have been initiated by PR, whether in-house specialists or external consultants—’

‘Oh, I admit there are some lazy journos around. Some of them should be ashamed of themselves. They regurgitate a press release and put their by-line on it. No, I’m referring to those of us who care about getting at the truth, and who find our way blocked by PR people tidying up the messes left by their corporate clients.’

‘Now, now, Luke,’ Dawn said, wagging a finger at him. ‘You know he doesn’t mean it, Della. He’s trying to get you to bite, like he always did. Ignore him.’ She turned back to Luke. ‘Della is very good at her job so you leave her alone. She’s in line for a big promotion, too. Very highly thought of, our Della.’

‘And you’re not even a journalist any more,’ Lyn piped up. ‘You haven’t been for what, three years?’

He smiled. ‘But I’m still allowed to defend the profession.’

His mother was half right. Though he did enjoy teasing Della, he was semi-serious. He didn’t like to think of her on the side of some of the corporate creeps he’d encountered over the years. But this wasn’t the time or place to bring that subject up. He grinned at Della, and her lovely mouth gave him an answering smile before she turned away to help Jamie cut his meat.

‘You said you would explain about Yvonne,’ Dawn said. ‘Is she travelling alone? Or will you be going back for her? What’s going on?’

‘Ah.’ He took a mouthful of wine and let the rich, fruity flavour swirl around his mouth before swallowing. He put down the glass and leaned his elbows on the table, linking his hands. ‘I’m afraid I have some news. Yvonne and I have broken up. She won’t be coming here.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t know where she is right now, and to be honest I don’t care.’

He looked down at his plate while a silence settled over the table, each person absorbing his news. His grip tightened. It wasn’t news to him but it was still difficult to talk about.

‘You’re getting divorced?’ his mother asked eventually.

‘Yes. It’s already underway.’

‘But this is so sudden. Your last email said you were both fine.’

He grimaced. ‘Well, we were. We just weren’t together. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it’s been over for a while.’

‘Have you tried counselling?’

‘No.’ He snorted. ‘Believe me, there’s no point.’

‘Oh, Luke. What happened? You were so in love. I remember thinking when you brought Yvonne to meet us that I’d never seen you so happy.’

‘Mum, I’d rather not go into the details. We weren’t meant to be together. That’s all there is to it. Just accept it’s over, okay?’

Dawn hesitated. ‘Of course, but I’m so sorry. Still, if it had to happen, it’s a blessing you didn’t have any children.’

Luke’s jaw clenched, a muscle twitched. ‘I don’t consider that a blessing.’

With a sigh, he reached for his glass and drank the remaining wine. He hadn’t intended to go there. He didn’t want to expose his emotions to the scrutiny of others, even his family, as much as he loved them.

His mother broke the tense silence. ‘Where are your bags? Did you leave them at the airport?’

‘No, they’re at the hotel. I checked in on the way here.’

‘Hotel? Why would you want to stay at a hotel when you have a perfectly good room here?’

‘I didn’t want to put you to the trouble, especially as I sprung my visit on you.’

‘Rubbish. What’s this house for if not for our family? Check out of the hotel tomorrow and move in here. You need to be where we can look after you.’

Luke smiled, but shook his head. He didn’t need or want looking after. He’d managed on his own for years. He was used to it. If his marriage had taught him anything, it was that he was better off alone.

Later, instead of lingering over coffee and home-made chocolate mints as she was tempted to do, Della pushed back her chair. ‘I’m sorry to rush off, but I have to do some work tonight.’

‘Work?’ Dawn asked. ‘You work too hard. Are you sure you have to?’

‘Afraid so,’ she said. ‘We have a crisis we’re dealing with at the moment.’

‘Not the Dermont Chemicals fire?’ Frank said. ‘I heard about it on the radio.’

She nodded. ‘That’s the one. Tom Dermont is my client. Lucky me.’

‘I hope they appreciate how much you do after hours,’ Dawn said. ‘But I doubt it.’

Luke leapt from his seat. ‘Hey, you can give me a lift,’ he said. ‘Just into the city. Okay?’

Damn. Work was only part of the reason she had to leave. She needed to get away from Luke. The effort of pretending not to care had made her chest ache. The news of his divorce had made it worse, and she wasn’t sure which was stronger—sympathy for his obvious pain or relief that he was free again. She felt shamed that it might be relief.

‘Um, do you really want to leave so soon?’ Della glanced at Dawn, hoping she’d press him to stay longer.

‘I expect you’re exhausted after all the travelling,’ Dawn said, rising to give her son a hug.

So much for that idea. In the confusion of goodbye hugs and kisses, Della slipped out to the car. Her head was spinning with all she’d heard. Not only his divorce, but the fact he’d be living and working here in Adelaide.

Not that any of it made a difference to her position. On the contrary, she was as determined as ever to keep her feelings hidden. She wouldn’t risk ruining a friendship she valued when he was clearly hurting and needing his friends. Once she’d absorbed everything that had happened today and had a good night’s sleep, she’d be ready, willing and able to be his friend. Though he hadn’t admitted it, and maybe he didn’t even know it, she was sure a big part of his homecoming was a need for emotional support.

‘Thought you’d left without me,’ Luke said as he opened the passenger door and slid in. ‘Nice car. Very nice. You have good taste, Shrimp.’

She started the engine of the silver convertible. ‘What did you think I’d have—a Volvo? Nice and safe?’

He laughed. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it, but if I had I’d have pegged you as having a…Mini.’

‘A Mini!’

‘A shrimp car.’

‘Oh, shut up.’

‘Nice driving,’ he commented after a few moments.

‘Thanks.’ She enjoyed driving. It was one of the things she was good at. Which probably explained why she’d been lured by the car.

‘So, what happened to your ideals, Della?’

‘My ideals?’

‘The ones we talked about when we were at university. You were just as keen to fix the world as I was.’

‘I was young and silly and thought I knew everything.’

‘Now you’re old and silly and know you know nothing?’

She gave him a sideways glance. ‘Something like that.’ She’d never been as focused as Luke. She’d admired the strength of his convictions, but had been more interested in creating a firm financial foundation for herself than in changing a world that didn’t want to be changed. ‘Where do you want me to drop you?’

He stared at their surroundings for a moment. ‘North Terrace,’ he said, before turning back to face her. ‘It would be good to catch up. It’s been a while since we hung out together.’

She heard a wistful undertone. ‘A while? It’s been ages.’

‘You’re not wrong. What about tomorrow? You could skip work for a day.’

‘I wish I could but I have a crisis, remember?’

‘Ah, yes. Dermont’s. A shining example of corporate social responsibility. Tomorrow night?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m going out with Lyn. Hopefully.’

‘Hopefully?’

‘If Patrick can watch the kids.’

‘The night after, then?’

‘I’ll have to keep it open in case Lyn needs to reschedule.’

She focused on manoeuvering the car into the kerb. It wasn’t a good place to stop, and he opened the door without delay.

‘Thanks,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Have a good night.’

As soon as he closed the door, she set off towards the sea and her haven. Though she tried not to, she glanced repeatedly at her rear-view mirror, searching for a final glimpse of him before he disappeared from sight. It had taken all her energy to keep up the pretence tonight. She didn’t remember it being so difficult on his previous visits.

Just for an instant, she wondered if there was a chance she’d ever be able to reveal her true feelings. Now he was divorced and home to stay, what was there to stop her?

Friendship.

He’d been head over heels when he’d brought Yvonne to meet his family. Besotted. She wouldn’t be surprised if he still loved her. If so, the last thing he needed was Della confessing her secrets and adding to his confusion.

For now that was true, but what about the future?

She clamped down on the thought. She had no business thinking about the future when she’d already accepted her priority was to be a friend to Luke.

But could they pick up their friendship where they’d left off? Or would there be a distance between them that hadn’t existed before he’d gone overseas?

On his brief visits back home, he’d been elusive, distracted. Passing through, nothing more. Thinking about his last story, his next story, not staying in one spot long enough to talk or, as he put it, hang out. Later, the one and only time he’d brought his wife home, he’d had no time or thought for anyone but Yvonne.

They had heaps of catching up to do. A hell of a lot had happened in his life. But a great deal had happened to her too, and nothing she wanted to discuss. Just for starters, her illness and its consequences would be off-limits. Even with him back, and apparently ready to settle down, things could never be quite the same as before.

The next morning, Della awoke with a headache. A certain smile had invaded her dreams, wrecking the small amount of sleep she’d had. After showering and dressing, she felt almost human. Despite the headache, she did feel better than she had the night before. She poured a glass of orange juice and made her way out to the front verandah from where she had a panoramic view of Gulf St Vincent. A rich turquoise sea met a deep blue, cloudless spring sky.

A small public lawn area separated her front garden from the sandy beach. The road didn’t reach this far, a leftover from the days when the heritage-listed house had been built. She eased herself into the swing-seat suspended from the iron framework of the verandah and sipped the chilled juice while she thought about the previous day.

If Luke was going to be living and working here, she wouldn’t be able to avoid him. Nor did she want to. Given the choice between never seeing him again, or loving him and having to hide it, she’d choose to put herself through the agony of being near him. Of course she would.

She’d learned as a child that it was not only possible but essential to conceal the truth if it would do no good to display it. This didn’t make her dishonest, just very good at burying her feelings.

Last night had confirmed she was as strongly attracted to Luke now as ever but, more important than that, she was Luke’s oldest friend. As far as she knew, he hadn’t kept in touch with any of his old mates from school or footy. And if he needed to talk about his marriage break-up, his oldest friend had a duty to be there for him. And she would.

If he still loved his wife—and she suspected he did—he’d be suffering dreadfully. She’d certainly seen flashes of pain cross his eyes when he’d broken the news to his family. He was the type to make light of his feelings, so the fact he hadn’t been able to hide how much he hurt made her heart ache for him.

If it would help him to talk about Yvonne, she’d listen. The next time he asked her to hang out, she wouldn’t make excuses. She’d force her feelings back into their box and do what she had to do.

Raucous squawks from seagulls drew her head up, and she watched the birds circling for a minute before she stood to go inside. Much as she’d like to stay, she had no time to waste. She had a media conference to organise.

On the way from the basement car park to her office, Della stopped by Reception to greet Bonnie and check for messages.

Bonnie, framed by floral arrangements, sat behind a curved jarrah desk. ‘Hi, Della. Marvin’s been looking for you.’

‘Already? Is he in his office?’

‘Mmm. Jason’s in there too.’

‘Is he?’ Neither her boss, Marvin, nor her assistant could claim to be early starters. This crisis must have freaked them. She hurried to drop a pile of files on her desk, plonked down her briefcase and handbag, then headed along the passageway to Marvin’s corner office. With no sign of his secretary, Della knocked on his door and entered.

‘Here she is,’ Marvin said, consulting his watch. ‘Della, we have a problem with this media conference today.’

‘A problem?’ She took a seat next to Jason, who flashed her a brief smile.

‘Tom Dermont rang me at home this morning. Apparently, your mobile was switched off.’ He raised his eyebrows.

‘I had a headache—’

‘Never mind that now.’ He waved a hand in front of his face as if swatting her words away. ‘The point is, he wants to front the media.’

Della closed her eyes. ‘Dear God.’

‘Exactly. What the—?’ He ran a finger around his shirt collar. ‘What the flaming heck are you going to do about it?’

Stifling her gut reaction to panic, she took a deep breath. ‘I’ll talk to him, Marvin,’ she said in a level voice.

‘Talk to him? You’ll need a jackhammer to get through his thick skull.’ He glanced at the door, as if afraid he’d been overheard. ‘Do it quickly. And let me know how it goes.’ He picked up his phone and Della stood to leave.

‘Don’t worry, Marvin,’ Jason said. ‘I’ll help her.’

Della turned on her heel, her eyebrows rising in disbelief. The nerve of him. She would have made it clear she didn’t require his assistance if Marvin hadn’t already begun his phone conversation. She strode towards the door, and he scuttled across the office behind her.

In the passageway, Jason dashed in front and barred her way. ‘Don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Della,’ he said. ‘I was only trying to help. Didn’t mean to make it sound like you couldn’t handle it.’

No, of course he hadn’t. Not in front of her, anyway. Out of her hearing was a different matter. He’d been laying the groundwork for his advancement for the past six months. And she wouldn’t have a problem with him taking her position, as long as he waited for her to vacate the office before moving in.

If things went to plan, and she won the promotion to partner as expected, it would work in her favour to have a ready-made replacement. She wouldn’t hesitate to recommend Jason in that case. If, however, he continued to make snide comments like the one she’d just witnessed, she might suggest the company look elsewhere for its new senior consultant.

Ignoring his squirms, she got down to business. ‘Start making up the media kits,’ she said. ‘I emailed the media release to you late last night. Have you seen it?’

‘Haven’t checked my in-box yet.’

‘Well, do so. You should have everything else you need on file. Also, contact Catherine and tell her we need an employee communication plan. I’ll get in touch with Tom Dermont.’

‘Do you want me—?’

‘I can handle him,’ she said curtly.

‘Of course.’

She dismissed him with a flick of her wrist and walked back to her office. With a sigh, she walked around her desk. She didn’t enjoy acting the heavy-handed boss, but she knew his sort, and wasn’t naïve enough to believe another way existed. She’d had to be tough to reach this level in the firm and she’d have to be tougher still if she made it to partner. Though it didn’t come naturally to her, a certain amount of ruthlessness was essential.

A message waited on the desk. She picked up the slip of yellow paper as she slid into her chair. Melanie Crowe, the in-house PR officer employed by Dermont Chemicals. Couldn’t be good news. She’d better deal with Melanie’s problem first before tackling Tom.

Melanie was out of her depth in this type of crisis, and Della felt sorry for her. Tom had tried to cut costs by hiring a green graduate rather than an older, experienced practitioner.

If Tom had any real business sense, he’d put his money into developing a less confrontational relationship with the local residents and preparing emergency plans for incidents such as yesterday’s fire. They’d still need to bring in consultants for the legwork and logistical management, but at least they wouldn’t have journalists filling their stories with hearsay and uninformed comments.

It wasn’t in her interests to suggest this, though. The firm made a tidy sum from Dermont’s contract, and as he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—work with anyone but her it put her in a strong position with the senior partners.

‘Melanie, you called.’

‘Oh, Della. Thank goodness.’ Melanie answered sounding breathless, and it was only eight-thirty in the morning. ‘It’s escalating,’ she said.

‘I thought the fire brigade had it under control.’

‘They did, but then it reached one of the chemical storage tanks and there was an explosion. Oh, hell, two firefighters are in hospital.’

‘Badly hurt?’

‘Stable. Thing is, toxic fumes are leaking. The police are evacuating the locals.’

Della swore under her breath. This was the last thing they needed—more ammunition for the residents’ protest group. If they could convince the state government the chemical plant should be reclassified as heavy industrial, Dermont’s would be forced to move operations to the outer suburbs, well away from residential areas. Such a move would cost Dermont’s a fortune, and could even mean the end of their operations if Tom Dermont decided to pull the plug and cut his losses.

‘Thanks for letting me know, Melanie. I’m going to speak to Tom now. He wants to run the media conference, and I need to talk him out of it.’

Melanie snorted. ‘Good luck.’

‘I thought I’d suggest Dan Barlow as the ideal person to take his place.’

‘Perfect. He’ll come across as a good guy. Plus, he knows what he’s talking about. He won’t try to bluster his way through like Tom would.’

That afternoon, Della flicked through one of the media kits Jason had piled on a table near the entrance to the large room. As well as her media release, he’d included background details on the Dermont products, a piece on the company’s contribution to the state economy, a fact sheet regarding a proposed project to clean up the production process—if Tom Dermont ever approved the expenditure—and other bits and pieces. They’d hired a large conference room at a city hotel and sent out the media advisory notes. Now all she could do was hope Tom stayed away as he’d promised in their phone call.

Dan Barlow entered the room, and she hurried over to him. ‘Thanks for agreeing to do this, Dan,’ she said.

‘Not a problem. Glad to help.’

She chatted to Dan for several moments then, as she swung around, doing a speedy check of chairs available for the stream of media representatives coming through the door, she spotted Luke. He caught her eye as he took a seat in the back row, and his smile made her empty stomach go into freefall. She made her way to the back of the room.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, standing close behind his chair.

He twisted to face her. His gaze drifted from the top of her head to her toes and back up to her face. A blatant inspection. She had to stop herself gasping out loud. He’d never looked at her like this before.

‘I like the way you dress for work,’ he said. ‘Very smart, but not too corporate. There’s still a touch of the old Della there.’

Absurdly pleased, she smoothed down her tailored black skirt, straightened her silk shirt and lifted her chin. ‘I’m glad to see an improvement in your clothes.’

In fact, he looked incredible, treading the line between smart and casual in his olive-green combat trousers and a white, short-sleeved shirt. Clean-shaven, he’d also had a haircut.

‘You haven’t said what you’re doing here,’ she said.

‘Just checking out the local news scene.’

‘You’re not working, are you?’

He shook his head.

‘Then, how did you even know this was happening?’

He hesitated. ‘I still have contacts in the local media.’

‘Oh. Of course.’ She glanced at her watch. Running late was not an option with the evening news crews facing broadcast deadlines. ‘I’d better go. Time to start.’

‘Sure. See you tonight.’

‘Not tonight. I’m going out with Lyn, remember?’

He nodded.

Della walked calmly to the front of the room. She should have known he wouldn’t be able to stay away from a media conference like this. Renowned all over the world for his hard-hitting exposés of exploitation and corporate greed, he was a media favourite here in his home town. Of course he still had contacts, and as soon as he got in touch they’d fill him in on the biggest story of the day.

She glanced Luke’s way from time to time—and each time she did he caught her. A raised eyebrow, a wink, a cheeky half-smile. She had to force herself not to look in his direction again or she’d burst out laughing and wreck the media conference, not to mention her own reputation as a self-possessed professional.

She lost sight of him in the mass exodus, and by the time she’d dealt with the debriefing, prepared the action plan for the next few days and returned to her office, the adrenalin high she’d been on all day started to subside. She scanned the messages strewn across her desk, and sighed when she spotted one from a client in the wine industry. She’d have to delegate the remaining work on their annual report or it wouldn’t be ready in time for the printing deadline.

Her mobile phone beeped and she read the text message on the screen:

ok for tonight. be here @ 6. lyn

With mixed feelings, she cleared the screen. She enjoyed any time spent with Lyn, but tonight was going to be tough.