Wedding Night
Page 148
“Yes. And that’s the problem.” There’s a wryness to Lorcan’s voice, and I reach out to squeeze his hand. “I’ll help you till my notice period is served out, then I’m going. And it’ll be for the best.”
“But what will I do?” Ben sounds genuinely freaked.
“You’ll take charge of the situation.” Lorcan takes a step toward him. “Ben, you’ve got a choice. You can sell the company to Yuri if you want to. Pocket the cash and have fun. But you know what else you could do? Take the reins. Take control. It’s your company. It’s your heritage. Make a go of it.”
Ben seems poleaxed.
“You can do it,” adds Lorcan. “But it’ll be a pretty big challenge. You’ll need to want to do it.”
“I made a gentleman’s agreement with Yuri.” Ben’s eyes dart wildly about. “Oh Jesus. I don’t know. What do I do?”
“Yuri Zhernakov is no gentleman,” says Lorcan sardonically. “So I think you’re safe there.” He sighs, ruffles his fingers through his hair, his face unreadable. “Look, Ben. I have the restructuring agreements in my briefcase, and I’ll take you through them tomorrow. I’ll explain what all your options are, as I see it.” He pauses. “But I’m not telling you what to do. Sell, not sell, it’s your choice. Yours.”
Ben’s eyes are fixed on Lorcan. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, apparently unable to speak. Then at last he turns on his heel and walks away, pocketing his BlackBerry as he goes.
“Well done.” I squeeze Lorcan’s hand again as we sit back down on the wall. “That was courageous.” Lorcan says nothing, just tilts his head.
“Will he make a go of it?” I ask tentatively.
“He might.” Lorcan exhales. “But if he doesn’t do it now, it’s never.”
“And what will you do when you leave?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugs. “Maybe I’ll take up that job offer I had in London.”
“London?” I say, brightening in spite of myself.
“Or Paris,” he says teasingly. “I’m fluent in French.”
“Paris is crap,” I say. “Everyone knows that.”
“Quebec, then.”
“Funny.” I hit him.
“I’m a lawyer.” Lorcan’s teasing tone disappears; he looks thoughtful. “That was my training. That was my career. And maybe I was knocked off course for a while. Maybe I did make the wrong choice.” His eyes flicker toward mine, and I nod in acknowledgment. “But now it’s time to get back on course.”
“Rev up the engine.”
“Full steam ahead,” he counters.
“You see life as a boat trip?” I say, in mock incredulity. “It’s a road trip. Everyone knows that.”
“It’s a boat trip.”
“It’s so a road trip.”
We sit there for a while, watching as the sunset turns from orange and pink to mauve and indigo and streaks of vivid crimson. It really is a corker.
Presently, Lottie and Richard come sauntering along the beach, and they perch on the wall beside us. They look good together, I can’t help thinking yet again. They just fit.
“So, I’m out of a job,” says Lorcan conversationally to Lottie, “and it’s all your sister’s fault.”
“It’s not my fault!” I exclaim at once. “How is it my fault?”
“If you hadn’t made me look at my life with a fresh pair of eyes, I never would have resigned.” His mouth twitches. “You have a lot to answer for.”
“I did you a favor,” I retort.
“Still your fault.” His eyes twinkle.
“Well …” I cast around. “No. I dispute that. It’s actually Lottie’s fault. If she hadn’t run off and got married, I would never have met you and we never would have discussed the matter.”
“Ah.” Lorcan nods. “Good point. I blame you.” He swivels to Lottie.
“It’s not my fault!” she retorts. “It’s Ben’s fault! That stupid marriage was all his idea. If he hadn’t proposed, I would never have come out here, and you would never have met Fliss.”
“So Ben’s the villain of the piece?” Lorcan raises a quizzical eyebrow.
“Yes,” Lottie and I say in unison.
“Yes,” agrees Richard firmly.
The sky is a deep purple by now, mottled with midnight blue. The sun is a sliver of orange brightness at the horizon. I imagine it sliding down to another bit of the world, another bit of the sky, shining on other sets of Lotties and Flisses, with all their troubles and joys.
“But what will I do?” Ben sounds genuinely freaked.
“You’ll take charge of the situation.” Lorcan takes a step toward him. “Ben, you’ve got a choice. You can sell the company to Yuri if you want to. Pocket the cash and have fun. But you know what else you could do? Take the reins. Take control. It’s your company. It’s your heritage. Make a go of it.”
Ben seems poleaxed.
“You can do it,” adds Lorcan. “But it’ll be a pretty big challenge. You’ll need to want to do it.”
“I made a gentleman’s agreement with Yuri.” Ben’s eyes dart wildly about. “Oh Jesus. I don’t know. What do I do?”
“Yuri Zhernakov is no gentleman,” says Lorcan sardonically. “So I think you’re safe there.” He sighs, ruffles his fingers through his hair, his face unreadable. “Look, Ben. I have the restructuring agreements in my briefcase, and I’ll take you through them tomorrow. I’ll explain what all your options are, as I see it.” He pauses. “But I’m not telling you what to do. Sell, not sell, it’s your choice. Yours.”
Ben’s eyes are fixed on Lorcan. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, apparently unable to speak. Then at last he turns on his heel and walks away, pocketing his BlackBerry as he goes.
“Well done.” I squeeze Lorcan’s hand again as we sit back down on the wall. “That was courageous.” Lorcan says nothing, just tilts his head.
“Will he make a go of it?” I ask tentatively.
“He might.” Lorcan exhales. “But if he doesn’t do it now, it’s never.”
“And what will you do when you leave?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugs. “Maybe I’ll take up that job offer I had in London.”
“London?” I say, brightening in spite of myself.
“Or Paris,” he says teasingly. “I’m fluent in French.”
“Paris is crap,” I say. “Everyone knows that.”
“Quebec, then.”
“Funny.” I hit him.
“I’m a lawyer.” Lorcan’s teasing tone disappears; he looks thoughtful. “That was my training. That was my career. And maybe I was knocked off course for a while. Maybe I did make the wrong choice.” His eyes flicker toward mine, and I nod in acknowledgment. “But now it’s time to get back on course.”
“Rev up the engine.”
“Full steam ahead,” he counters.
“You see life as a boat trip?” I say, in mock incredulity. “It’s a road trip. Everyone knows that.”
“It’s a boat trip.”
“It’s so a road trip.”
We sit there for a while, watching as the sunset turns from orange and pink to mauve and indigo and streaks of vivid crimson. It really is a corker.
Presently, Lottie and Richard come sauntering along the beach, and they perch on the wall beside us. They look good together, I can’t help thinking yet again. They just fit.
“So, I’m out of a job,” says Lorcan conversationally to Lottie, “and it’s all your sister’s fault.”
“It’s not my fault!” I exclaim at once. “How is it my fault?”
“If you hadn’t made me look at my life with a fresh pair of eyes, I never would have resigned.” His mouth twitches. “You have a lot to answer for.”
“I did you a favor,” I retort.
“Still your fault.” His eyes twinkle.
“Well …” I cast around. “No. I dispute that. It’s actually Lottie’s fault. If she hadn’t run off and got married, I would never have met you and we never would have discussed the matter.”
“Ah.” Lorcan nods. “Good point. I blame you.” He swivels to Lottie.
“It’s not my fault!” she retorts. “It’s Ben’s fault! That stupid marriage was all his idea. If he hadn’t proposed, I would never have come out here, and you would never have met Fliss.”
“So Ben’s the villain of the piece?” Lorcan raises a quizzical eyebrow.
“Yes,” Lottie and I say in unison.
“Yes,” agrees Richard firmly.
The sky is a deep purple by now, mottled with midnight blue. The sun is a sliver of orange brightness at the horizon. I imagine it sliding down to another bit of the world, another bit of the sky, shining on other sets of Lotties and Flisses, with all their troubles and joys.
