Catherine George - Their Scandalous Affair

Avery waited a moment, then asked the question which was her sole reason for contacting Paul Morrell again in this life. ‘Who’s buying?’

‘The Mercom Group. I asked around, but no one knows much about them in the City. Pretty solid outfit, though. They’ve been in business since before the war. Haulage, warehousing and so on—are you still there, Avery?’

‘Yes, I’m still here.’ She heard voices in the background, then Paul spoke again.

‘Avery, I’ve got to go. I’m due at a meeting.’ His voice lowered urgently. ‘I’m really glad you rang, darling. Does this mean—?’

‘Absolutely not,’ she said flatly. ‘All I wanted was information.’

There was a pause, then she heard Paul heave a sigh. ‘I wish to God I could put the clock back. I was a fool,’ he said bitterly.

‘No, Paul. I was the fool.’

Avery disconnected and sat staring into space, cursing herself for getting a man wrong yet again. Jonas Mercer was the first man in years to appeal to her on a man/woman level. Unfortunately he also happened to run the company that would probably demolish the row of shops that included Avery Alterations—which it had every right to do. But that wasn’t the point. The part that infuriated her—and cut surprisingly deep—was the discovery that Jonas had known all along how the deal would affect her business but hadn’t seen fit to tell her.

When Avery went back into the shop Louise came running in from the café next door. ‘Hey, what do you think?’ she said breathlessly. ‘None of the other shops got a letter about the lease.’

‘Really?’ Avery’s eyes narrowed ominously. ‘How very interesting.’

Frances exchanged a speaking look with the other two, and briskly requested Avery’s help in fitting the inserts she’d cut to stitch into the vintage bridal gown. There was a steady influx of customers from then on, and for the rest of the day Avery was kept so busy that Frances advised her to go straight home after her session with the bridesmaids.

‘No point in trekking back here afterwards. I’ll lock up.’

Avery thanked her and smiled encouragingly at her little team as she left. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll soon find other premises to rent.’

Avery’s session with six excited little girls and their harassed mothers took up so much time and energy that it was late by the time she left. Several times during the day she’d been on the point of ringing Jonas, but in the end decided to allow herself the satisfaction of confronting him in person. She arrived home to find Jonas there before her, standing tall in the arched porch like a sentry in a box.

‘Hello, Avery, you’re late,’ he said, moving swiftly to open the car door. ‘The table’s booked for eight.’

She got out, ignoring his helping hand. ‘Cancel it,’ she said tersely. ‘I’m not hungry.’

He stepped back, frowning. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ll tell you inside.’ She unlocked the door and punched in the code for the alarm. ‘In here, please.’

She ushered him into a dauntingly formal room, with pictures and furnishings dating from her grandparents’ day. The only modern features were two central heating radiators so rarely switched on that the temperature of the room was as arctic as Avery’s manner.

‘Do sit down,’ she said politely, but Jonas shook his head and drew himself to his full, formidable height, moving to one side to avoid the coloured glass chandelier Avery’s grandparents had brought back from a holiday in Venice.

‘I’ll stand.’

‘Then I’ll come straight to the point.’ Avery looked up at him coldly. ‘I gather that this “family firm” of yours has purchased the land which includes the shops on Stow Street.’

His mouth tightened. ‘So that’s it. Who the hell leaked that? It hasn’t been made public yet.’

‘I received a letter from Morrell Properties today, telling me my lease won’t be renewed, so I made a few enquiries.’ Her eyes speared his. ‘You’ve known about this all along. Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I fully intended to the minute planning permission was confirmed,’ he said curtly. ‘It didn’t come through officially until late this afternoon.’

‘Oh.’ Avery felt herself deflate like a pricked balloon. ‘I see.’

His eyes hardened. ‘I must have a word with George Morrell. I told him I wanted to inform all the leaseholders in person before they received an official letter.’

She smiled faintly. ‘None of the other leaseholders received a letter today. Only me.’

Jonas frowned. ‘You’re saying this is personal?’

‘You bet it is.’

‘Why?’

‘His son arranged the lease for me in the first place as a favour, even though Daddy disapproved.’ Avery’s chin lifted. ‘I’m considered ineligible as a friend for the Morrell son and heir. In fact, I’ve been expecting this kind of letter every time the lease comes up for renewal, so that part of it was no shock.’ She looked at him squarely. ‘But because I liked you I was angry—hurt, even—to find you’d kept me in the dark about the deal.’

‘Avery—’ His phone rang, and with a muttered curse Jonas answered it, his face grim as he rapped out questions to his caller. He snapped the phone shut, looking bleak. ‘Sorry, I have to go. There’s been an accident involving one of our vehicles.’

‘Was anyone hurt?’

‘Yes. I’ll drive straight to the hospital.’ He took an envelope from his pocket as they reached the outer door. ‘I intended to give you this as a parting gift at the end of a very different evening. Read it when I’m gone.’ He hesitated, and for a moment she thought—and hoped—that he would kiss her. But he merely looked at her for a moment, then turned away without touching her. ‘Goodbye, Avery.’

After her usual locking and bolting routine Avery stared in blank dismay as she read the letter which had been faxed through to Jonas after planning had been confirmed. Mercom, it seemed, had no intention of demolishing the shops in Stow Street. The leaseholders were being offered the option either to purchase, or to lease their premises from their new landlord. There were plans to build on the land behind them, but construction work would not affect trading. Traffic access to the building site would be via Cheap Street, to the north of the car park. Official confirmation would be forwarded to Miss Crawford in due course.

Avery stalked round the kitchen like an angry tigress, heaping curses on George Morrell’s head. His indecent hurry to terminate her lease had put paid to what might have developed into a beautiful friendship with Jonas Mercer. She gave a short, mirthless laugh. Who was she kidding? For the first time in years she would have liked more than that. But fat chance of friendship or anything else now Jonas had gone speeding back home to—to where, exactly? She looked at the letter-heading. Mercom was based in Kew, in London, but she had no idea of Jonas’s private address. A call to his cellphone was the only way to contact him, but she couldn’t see herself doing that any time soon.

‘No problem, everyone,’ Avery announced next morning. ‘I merely pay rent to a new landlord.’ She reported on her meeting with a Mercom representative, and it was only later, over lunch with Frances, that she revealed the identity of their new landlord.

‘I went straight for the jugular because he kept me in the dark about it,’ she said disconsolately, ‘and then he handed me this.’ She passed the Mercom letter to Frances, who smiled in relief as she finished reading it.

‘So we’re not out in the snow after all, boss dear! I trust you grovelled suitably to Mr Mercer afterwards?’

‘I didn’t get the chance. He had to rush off to cope with an emergency back at base.’ Avery heaved a sigh. ‘I doubt I’ll see him again.’