Transplanting Holly Oakwood (20 page)

“I bet,” he said, turning her card over in his hand. “Welcome to the States, Holly. I hope your time here will be memorable.”

“Thanks for suggesting we skip the paperwork. I’m going to the mall to shop up a storm, and that would’ve ruined my day.”

“Can’t keep a lady from her shopping. Enjoy.” Mr Cornelius saluted as she drove off.

She raised a hand in reply, grateful that if she’d had to collide with someone on the freeway, that someone had been a perfect gentleman.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Holly

Holly emerged from a subterranean sleep but squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to drop back off again. She rolled over with difficulty, her limbs like lead weights, and her hip grating like that of a ninety year old. She got out of bed gingerly and ran her fingers over her body, but apart from bruising where the seat belt had cut into her, she was fine.

She’d never been in an accident before and she drove to work hesitantly, foot hovering over the brake, nearly jumping out of her seat every time a horn blared. How long would it be before she regained her shattered confidence? With relief she reached the office and got out of the car, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension.

An extra-strong espresso was what she needed to lift the fog hanging over her. She walked to the coffee shop, and stood in line.

“You’re early this morning.” She twisted with difficulty to see Brittany standing behind her. “Turning over a new leaf? Or did you have such a quiet weekend you couldn’t wait to get back to the office?”

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“Things on your mind, honey?” Although the words were addressed to her, Brittany was making eye contact with an attractive older man in the front of the queue.

“I’m not feeling a hundred percent.”

“Homesick again?”

“I was in an accident yesterday and I’m bruised and sore,” she shot back, then clamped her mouth shut, hoping against hope Brittany hadn’t heard her.

“What type of accident?”

“Car crash,” she mumbled.

“You were in a car crash?” repeated Brittany, her attention now focused solely on her. “What happened? Were you in the Consulate rental car? Is it damaged?”

“The car’s okay.”

“Thank God for that.” Brittany’s eyes flicked back to the front of the line.

“By the way, I’m fine too. Thanks for asking.”

Brittany ignored the sarcasm in her tone. “You’d better come to my office and tell me the whole story.”

“There’s not much to tell. The car’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Nonetheless,” Brittany’s attention wandered again as the businessman left the store, “we may have to file insurance forms.”

“Don’t think we’ll need to.”

“That’s your problem. You don’t think.”

A bomb exploded inside her head, and black spots danced in front of her eyes. She bit back the words she wanted to say and instead asked, “Shall I come and see you later today?”

“No, I want to do this now. Get your coffee, and I’ll see you upstairs in ten minutes.”

She cursed herself as she rode the elevator. It would’ve been better not to have mentioned the accident at all. She’d have to relive the full story in Technicolor detail, Brittany would milk it for all it was worth, and would delight in recounting the story to Guy.

“You were heading eastbound past the airport?” asked Brittany, doodling on her desk pad.

“Yup, and then I realised I was in the wrong lane, and indicated to move left.”

“What happened when you came off the road?”

“I was abused by a load of other drivers, and eventually the police showed up.”

“The police?”

“Yes, two squad cars arrived and maybe six officers. They had a tracker dog too, and escorted us off the highway.”

“Us? Was someone in the car with you?”

“Oh, sorry, I mean me and the other driver.”

“What did the police do after that?”

“They checked both cars for damage and said they didn’t need to fill out an accident report.”

“Did the other driver agree?”

“Yes.”

“Fantastic, otherwise the insurance companies would have a field day. The paperwork’s mind boggling.”

“That’s what the man in the other car said.”

“You were lucky he was so sympathetic.”

“The thing is, the accident was his fault anyway.”

“At least there’s no major damage. I’m disappointed this has happened and I know Guy will be too. Anything else?” Brittany tapped her pencil on the desk absently.

“No. Then the police left. They were a sight for sore eyes, I can tell you. One of them looked like Erik Estrada. The dog handler was gorgeous, too.”

Brittany tapped her pencil with such force the lead snapped. “Who on earth is Erik Estrada?”

“Starred in CHiPS.”

“Chips?”

“TV show from years ago. The whole series is quite popular again on DVD. Like to borrow it?”

Brittany gave her a withering look and pointed to the door. Holly made her escape, relieved the questioning was over.

TWENTY-NINE

Guy

Within minutes of Guy arriving back at the Consulate Brittany rushed into his office with Ann in tow. Ann looked exasperated, a quality unusual in her.

“Guy, we have a disaster here,” said Brittany without preamble.

“Sit down.” He extended a hand towards Ann. “What’s going on?”

“As Brittany’s said, we have a serious problem. We received a letter from Alex Sharpe at Bell, Smith and Headley a couple of hours ago.”

He kept his expression neutral, but his jaw clenched. He knew Sharpe by reputation, and it was a formidable one.

“Do you know the firm?” Ann asked him.

“Yes, they’re one of the biggest law firms in LA, they specialise in litigation. Sharpe is one of their rainmakers,” Guy answered. “What does he want with us?”

“They’re representing a man by the name of Eugene Cornelius,” Ann continued. “He was in a car accident last weekend.”

He couldn’t remember any of the Consulate staff having an accident and Brittany hadn’t mentioned one during their phone calls. Nonetheless his scalp prickled.

“Eugene Cornelius has been badly injured,” Ann said. “Holly was the other driver.”

“It was her fault,” said Brittany excitedly. “What’s worse, she didn’t report the accident to the police or the insurance company.”

“Didn’t report the accident? To anyone?” His voice sounded sharp but he felt dazed, his mind whirring with conflicting emotions. “We’re renting her car, aren’t we? Is it true she didn’t report the accident?” he asked Ann incredulously.

“She told Brittany she had an accident, but didn’t tell her how serious it was.”

“What on earth was she thinking?” he asked, his voice softer now. He shook his head in denial and turned to Brittany. “What did she tell you?”

“She said her car had a small scrape and there wasn’t any damage to the other vehicle.”

“Did she say anything about the other driver?”

“She said he was fine, but as we now know she was lying. She had to be if he’s injured.”

“I don’t understand why she’d lie.” Ann glared at Brittany. “I think we need to talk to her.”

“We do,” said Guy, watching the two women sparring.

“This is a serious matter,” Brittany continued, “and could attract attention we don’t need.”

Guy tuned out, lost in his own thoughts. The accident was the last thing he wanted to talk to Holly about. He wanted to speak to her about the night of the party, but every time he’d asked Brittany to put him through while he was away Holly had been busy, and hadn’t returned his calls. Maybe she was embarrassed about their kiss. Perhaps she’d had a bit to drink and it hadn’t meant anything to her. And God, had alcohol played a part in the accident too? Holly didn’t have a good track record where drinking was concerned, but for the moment he’d keep his thoughts to himself.

The women were looking at him expectantly and he fiddled with the papers on his desk before speaking. “Yes, we need to talk to her. Could one of you get her please?”

“I will.” Brittany leapt out of her chair immediately, irritating him beyond belief.

After she left he turned to Ann. “What do you make of Holly?”

“I like her. She’s a hard worker, reliable, and strikes me as truthful.”

“Yes, that’s my view too.”

“I don’t know why she’d lie. If she hurt someone in an accident, surely she’d never expect to get away with it.”

“Let’s see what she has to say.” He sighed, wishing he had to deal with anything but this.

THIRTY

Holly

Holly walked into the kitchen, threw her bag down and stretched, but it didn’t help with her fatigue. A strong coffee was what she needed.

“Do you know what’s going on, Holly?” Tina bustled in as she was making it, looking fit to burst.

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you seen all the comings and goings?”

“No, I’ve been out all morning. Trying to sell the sleeping bag.”

“That thing, no one will buy it,” said Tina definitively.

“You and I both know it, but Brittany still seems to think I can move it. Actually, I saw someone this morning who didn’t laugh me out of his office.”

“Really? Who was that?”

“The West Coast buyer for REI. He seemed quite interested in it much to my surprise. Said he’ll talk to some of his store managers and come back to me.”

“Fingers crossed,” said Tina, and changed the subject back. “There’s been all sorts of comings and goings in the office this morning.”

“What sort of comings and goings?”

“Ann and Brittany have been in and out of Guy’s office all afternoon.”

“Guy’s office?” She dropped the spoon with a clatter. “Is he back?”

“That’s the strange thing. He’s not due back until Monday. But I can hear raised voices through the wall.”

“Probably Ann and Brittany arguing over the passport office.”

“That’s what I thought at first, but there’s a man in there too.”

The clacking of stilettos announced Brittany’s arrival in the kitchen. Her colour was high and her eyes shone.

“Holly, we want to see you in Guy’s office. Now.”

“Just a minute,” she replied, putting the milk back in the fridge.

“I said now.”

Holly smoothed her hair back. If only she had a minute to run a comb through it, perhaps put on a slick of lipstick. She didn’t feel her best, never did around Brittany, and would’ve liked a minute to compose herself before talking over God knows what with God knows who.

She followed Brittany into the office and smiled at Ann, who looked straight through her. What could have happened to change her mood drastically from yesterday, when they’d chatted over a cup of coffee?

“Holly, thank you for joining us.”

She swivelled around, pleasure and embarrassment washing over her in equal measures. “Guy. You’re back.”

“Please take a seat,” he said, gesturing to a chair. His tone was formal and a hard, tight knot formed in her chest. “We find ourselves in an unfortunate position at the Consulate,” he continued in a cold voice.

She sat down, jiggled her feet and wondered what it had to do with her. “I’m sorry to hear that. What’s happened?”