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This was getting worse and worse. Miranda snatched the account back, and studied it, before looking back at her mother in despair. “The interest is running at a prohibitive rate.”
“I don’t think all the stores charge such high rates, darling.”
All the stores? “There are more?” Miranda stared at her mother, aghast.
So much for her stubborn determination never to be beholden to Callum again. There was no money to pay these accounts. Callum would be contacted by the stores eventually to be told that her mother was shopping on his credit.
Unless of course Hemingway’s decided to institute legal action to recover the debt.
The shame of it.
“Oh, dear Lord, Mum. What have you done?”
It was the following afternoon—her day off—and after a spending the day walking aimlessly around the city, her brain in turmoil, Miranda finally decided to take action about her mother’s revelation.
Even if Callum had paid off her parents’ accounts after her father’s death, he could hardly have intended her mother to continue using his name to lever credit. The time had come to see him and lay all the dead cats on his boardroom table, she decided with mordant humor. Adrian and Flo would have to put up with whatever repercussions followed.
She could no longer continue deceiving him.
Miranda paused at Trafalgar Square. Years ago Flo had sometimes brought her and Adrian here to feed the pigeons, and each Christmas, they’d come to admire the lights and Christmas tree. The pigeons had long since been discouraged, but the Christmas tree still stood. And the fountain Adrian had almost fallen into one icy winter’s day.
So when her cell phone rang and she heard Callum’s distinctive voice, Miranda was hardly surprised. She sank down on a bench near the fountain. To her annoyance her “Hi” was more than a little breathless.
“Been making any brandy snaps lately?”
His lighthearted comment made her want to cry. That teasing humor wouldn’t last once he heard what her mother had been up to. “Not enough.”
That reminded her that she needed to organize some overtime. There were Flo’s accounts to pay. On the spur of the moment she said rashly, “I don’t suppose you have more work for me?”
The pause echoed in her ears.
She shut her eyes. Stupid. She opened them and gazed blindly at the tall tree decorated with vertical rows of light on the other side of the fountain. “I mean real work. I don’t want a donation.”
“I know you don’t. I was thinking.”
She tried not to notice how low his voice was…how sexy…or how it sent shivers down her spine.
“Maybe we could meet and talk about people I know who might be able to give you work,” he said.
It wouldn’t be a date. And little as she wanted to be in his debt, what harm was there in using his social network to further her own ends? It wasn’t as if she was taking money from him.
And she would use the opportunity to tell him what Flo had done. Maybe even what Adrian had done—if the meeting went smoothly enough.
“That would be great.” The world seemed bright and shiny—no longer dull and gray. “I’d like that.”
“Then I’ll pick you up on Friday—we’ll have dinner.”
Friday night? That sounded suspiciously like a date. But she knew that this time she wouldn’t refuse.
Callum was rather pleased with himself.
Not only had he managed to secure a date with Miranda—although he rather doubted she’d view the evening in the same light—he’d also gotten glowing feedback about the Christmas cocktail party Miranda had catered for him. Apart from the fact that everyone had enjoyed it, saying it was streets ahead of any similar event they’d attended, Hunter told him there’d been a promise of a new corporate deal from Tom Murray, and a businessman Callum had been courting for a long time had made an appointment to talk about having all his plants insured with Ironstone Insurance. He’d even heard that Miranda had catered a small dinner party for Hunter, though she’d said nothing about that.
All in all Callum had the feeling that his plans were finally working out.
When he picked her up on Friday evening, she was ready for him, auguring well for the night. He liked punctuality in a woman.
