Watching Willow Watts (16 page)

‘
Oh, this is, uh . . . an old friend, Alex Fielding,’ Willow mumbled, staring at the ground.

Christ
, he was going to have to teach her not to mutter like that. An old friend, as if. Looked like Jay had done the right thing, stepping in. ‘And what brings you to Belcherton?’ he asked, trying to get as much information on this Alex as possible.

‘
My
architectural practice is bidding on the new tourist centre,’ Alex answered, taking another step away from Willow. ‘And you are?’ There was a slight edge to his voice.

‘
Jay Bellamy. Willow’s agent . . . and more.’ He tugged Willow even closer, then leaned over and kissed her noisily on the lips. ‘Nice to meet you.’ Jay stuck out his hand, noting Alex’s firm grip and Patek Philippe watch. Rich tosser. Well, soon Jay would have more money than ten of him together.

Alex
glanced over at Willow, eyebrows raised. ‘Nice meeting you,’ he said, although Jay could tell by the way his lips tightened it was anything but.

‘
So where is your firm based?’ Jay asked. The further away from here, the better.

‘
Grant & Associates is in London,’ Alex said distractedly, looking at his watch. ‘I’d better get going. I’ve got an early start tomorrow. Bye, Willow.’ He took off down the busy road before she even responded. Just in case he turned around, Jay grabbed Willow and embraced her passionately.

From now on, Jay would have to be extra vigilant. All it took was one man sniffing around his prize bitch, and all future hopes would be ruined. Old boyfriends were the worst when it came to influence; he’d nearly lost Jorgie back in the early days when her ex tried to persuade her to move to Australia with him. Jay had put an end to that fast – just like he’d stop this dead in its tracks before it went any further. Sure, the man had backed off when he’d noticed Jay in the picture, but Jay wanted to be certain he stayed away for good.

Jay
smiled down at Willow as his mind ticked over. An architect, eh? Imagine if his firm did win that bid. It wouldn’t do to have a big-shot from London hanging around here, day after day. How could Jay get rid of him?

His grin widened as an idea formed. Bright and early tomorrow, he’d track down the number to Grant & Associates and tell them he had evidence their partner in Belcherton was already arranging kick-backs from local contractors in exchange for their work on the building – or something along those lines. Of course they’d investigate and find it wasn’t true, but in the meantime they’d have to pull Alex off the project.

Bye bye,
old friend
, Jay muttered to himself, reeling in Willow for another kiss to seal the deal.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

STARS DOTTED THE CLEAR night sky as Betts and Dickie crept into the house. It was almost two a.m. and hours past Betts’s bedtime, but she’d never felt more alive – not even when she’d won a genuine used Marilyn Band-Aid in an eBay auction. Her eyes scratched with tiredness, but every time she glanced at Dickie, the adrenaline pumped and her body started tingling. For the thousandth time, Betts reminded herself Dickie was a recent widower, firmly closed for business in the love department. But he hadn’t
seemed
closed for business, a small bit of her protested as images of the past few hours floated through her head.

Dickie
had looked so spiffy in his crisp white shirt and tie, and walking through the yellow fields to a nearby country pub was like something out of a fairy tale. The pub had been wonderful, too: one of those thatched roof ones Betts had only seen on the History Channel. Inside, low beams criss-crossed the ceiling and paraphernalia from the past few centuries filled every corner.

Away from
Belcherton and the ghost of his wife, Dickie was like a new person – animated and full of life. They’d laughed, drunk a lot of wine, and sat in the garden at a picnic table until the landlord kicked them out. Then Dickie had blagged a bottle of wine and two glasses, produced a blanket from goodness knows where, and they’d lounged in the warm summer night, just talking for hours. Betts hadn’t done that since she was a teenager. Before they knew it, it was well past midnight and time to head home. They tiptoed in as if they
were
teenagers returning late from curfew.

‘
Shhhh!’ Betts giggled as Dickie almost tripped over a wrinkle in the carpet. Goodness, that wine had gone right to her head. They stole up the stairs, Betts holding onto the railing to steady herself. She was so happy – and tipsy – that she almost felt like she was floating. Dickie stopped outside her room and turned to face her.

He was so handsome, sh
e thought, taking in his dear face, beard, and those wonderful wrinkles by his eyes. Her cheeks heated up, and she leaned closer and closer until . . .

Stop right now
, you big ol’ fool, Betts scolded herself, moving quickly away from Dickie. What on earth was she thinking? Stretching her lips in a grin, she patted Dickie’s arm in a ‘just friends’ way. ‘Well now,’ she said in her best jovial voice. ‘That was a great night, wasn’t it? Totally awesome, as my kids would say.’

Dickie cleared his throat and stepped back, likely thanking his lucky stars he’d escaped her embrace. Her heart dropped as she recalled Gord saying kissing her was like being slobbered on by an overeager dog.

‘
It certainly was.
I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Dickie said. ‘Or rather, today. Good night.’ The wrinkles by his eyes crinkled up again as he smiled, and Betts barely managed to stop herself from reaching out and touching them.

‘
Good night,’ she mumbled, closing the bedroom door behind her. She was just about to get into bed when she spotted a sheet of paper on the bedside table.

Your daughter phoned
, the message said.
There’s been an emergency and you should ring her straight away.

Emergency? Ring straight away?

Betts stared at the words as if sh
e couldn’t quite process them. Given that she’d had more wine than ever before in her life, that was a definite possibility.

Panic rising, Bett
s scrambled back downstairs to use the ancient landline. Was Lucy okay? She’d never forgive herself if something had happened while she was out cavorting like an adolescent, mooning over some man she didn’t stand a chance with.

And what was she doing out here, anyway, so far from home? Maybe she did belong closer to her f
amily.

Fingers shaking, she dialled Lucy’s number, holding her breath. It was just after nine p.m. back home.

‘
Hello?’ Her daughter’s voice came on the line.

‘
Lucy? Honey! Is everything all right? I just got your message now.’ Betts could barely get out the words fast enough.

‘
Relax, Mo
m.’ That sarcastic, patronising tone learned from Gord echoed across the Atlantic.

‘
Relax? I got a message there was an emergency and to call right away!’ Irritation stirred inside.

‘
Emergency?’ Lucy sounded as if she was straining to remember. ‘Oh. Oh yeah.’

‘
What? What is it?’

‘
Stupid waiter got grease on my designer
blouse when I was out at the BBQ Shack. I remember you had one of those home remedies. What was it again?’

Betts took a deep breath and tried to keep the rising annoyance in check.
This
was why her daughter had called, claiming an emergency? Not to talk to her; not to say she missed her . . . but wondering how to remove a grease stain from a blouse?

‘
I’ve got to go, Lucy. It’s the middle of the night here.’

‘
But Mom–
’

For the first time ever, Betts hung up on her daughter. She stood still, staring at the receiver. It wasn’t entirely her kids’ fault they treated their mother the way they did – or, as much as she hated to admit it, Gord’s fault, either. If she’d stood up for herself every once in a while, they might have learned not to take advantage.

Thi
s was Betts’s time now. Her time to do what
she
wanted. She might still have a lot to learn about men, but by George, she wasn’t going to let anyone treat her like their own personal doormat any longer.

*

Willow sighed as she strapped on her butt
cushion and inserted a handful of tissue into her bra, trying to get psyched up for another day ahead as Marilyn. Jay had given instructions to meet him at the information centre that morning for some ‘exciting news’. Patting tan foundation under her eyes to hide the dark circles, Willow wasn’t sure how much more excitement she could take.

Her father and Bett
s had come in late last night (or rather, early this morning) giggling like two drunken teens. Although at first it had been strange to have another woman in the house, Willow was happy to see Dad look truly alive again. And Betts was so different from Mum – loud and boisterous, where her mother had a quiet, gentle strength – it wasn’t as if Mum’s place had been taken.

But the tw
o of them weren’t the reason Willow hadn’t slept. Every time she’d closed her eyes, memories of her and Alex invaded her mind. Holding hands as they drank champagne at Primrose Hill . . . the early mornings, when he’d stop off at Liberty’s on his way to work, just to give her coffee . . . the time she’d disastrously tried to make
shepherd’s pie,
and Alex had nearly lost a filling on a cement-like carrot.

Had she done the right thing last night, closing the door to the past? Had Alex even been trying to crack it open? She cringed, picturing the surprised expression – mixed with something else she couldn’t quite read – on Alex’s face when Jay said he was more than her agent. Even if Alex
had
been thinking about starting up again with her, after last night he certainly wasn’t thinking it any longer.

Once
Alex had gone, Jay had come inside and manoeuvred her onto the sofa, gentle hands creeping toward the loo-roll stuffing. Willow’s head had been churning, but she couldn’t help succumbing to his warm kisses. Jay was her future, not Alex. True, she didn’t know Jay that well yet, but something about him made her feel protected and safe, like he was always watching out for her.

Jamming on her false eyelashes and dusting
loose powder over her face, Willow selected a skirt and blouse combo, pulled the curlers from her hair and shoved her feet into high heels. The house was silent with Betts and her father off in the shop – Lord knows how the two of them would get through the day after the amount of sleep they’d had – and Willow stepped carefully down the stairs and out into the bustling street. Instantly, a crowd of people formed around her. Forcing a bright smile, Willow signed whatever they shoved at her. False breasts and bum pads were one thing, but would she ever get used to this?

‘
Hi
, Simpson,’ she said when she reached the information centre. He was looking a bit harried, trying to explain in broken French there was nowhere else to stay and that no, you couldn’t use the fountain as a bath.

‘
Willow.’ Simpson nodded, catching sight of her.

‘
Everything
okay here?’ she asked, noting Simpson’s uncharacteristic dour expression.

‘
My eleven o’clock bid meeting cancelled, with
almost no notice. I can’t believe those London architects.’ He pursed his lips. ‘They think because we’re village hicks, they can treat us like we’re nothing. I can tell you, that’s one firm who won’t get a commission!’

Willow’s heart jumped. ‘London architects?’ He
didn’t mean Alex, surely. Willow couldn’t imagine Alex ever cancelling a meeting at the last minute; work was his life. ‘Um, which firm?’ She smoothed down her dress, trying to sound like she didn’t care.

‘
Oh, Grant and something-or-other. I can never keep them straight.’ Simpson waved a dismissive hand in the air and Willow swallowed against the rising emotion. Grant & Associates was Alex’s firm.

‘
Why did they cancel?’ It couldn’t have anything to do with Alex seeing her and Jay together, could it? No, Alex was a professional through and through. He wouldn’t let that interfere with business. Anyway, why should he care?

‘
Some rubbish about an emergency and how their partner had to rush back to London. I told them not to bother rescheduling. If they’re that unreliable now, we certainly won’t be able to work with them. Now, don’t worry,’ Simpson said soothingly. ‘We’re still going to get a centre. We have another firm coming tomorrow with their presentation.’

Willow stared, trying to absorb his words. Emergency? Maybe she’d ring Alex when she got home; make sure everything was okay. No, she told herself. No, you won’t ring him. He’s got Claire, and that’s all behind you now.

‘
Willow, there you are!’ Jay slipped an arm around her waist and placed his lips on hers. ‘I’ve got some great news. Unless Simpson’s already told you?’ Willow’s cheeks flushed as she felt the gaze of everyone in the tourist centre on them. She pulled back quickly, noticing Simpson grinning in their direction.

‘
N
o, he hasn’t said anything.’ Taking Jay’s arm, she propelled him out the door away from enquiring eyes. Funny, in the light of day, she felt a little odd kissing Jay in public. There was no reason to – they
were
more than business, right? Jay had certainly made that clear last night.