Page 15 of All For You

I’m getting frantic texts from donors, worried about giving money to Oscar the Grouch’s Clubhouse. What do I tell them?

WasI Oscar the Grouch now? Hmm. That struck an uncomfortable chord. I wanted the clubhouse to go well. The kids deserved it. And I wasn’t so arrogant I didn’t realize people’s perception of me reflected on the clubhouse. I didn’t have to be aroundLizzy. I didn’t have to interact with her. I wanted to ignore Shay’s message but that wasn’t fair to her, so I texted back.

Me

Can they legally pull their pledges, though?

All the donors were transferring the money into our account Monday morning.

Shay

Probably not. But it will look worse if you go after them—bad PR for us and the kids.

Shit. She was right.

Me

It’s a reality TV misunderstanding. All under control.

Shay

Joe Walsh specifically is threatening to pull out. He wants to talk Monday.

My heart kicked hard, my ribs cinched tight. Joe Walsh was a huge donor. Could the project even continue without his contribution? My contractor friend Tim Langston was currently laying the foundations for the new clubhouse. Until the clubhouse was built, the kids were in prefabricated buildings next to the soccer field, but the local council was only allowing that because we had a firm end timeline. This donation issue needed to be resolved now.

ME

I’ll call Joe now. I’ll pull out of the weekend.

Shay

No. He said he doesn’t want to talk until Monday. I wouldn’t call him. Let him calm down, and don’t pull out now. Let him see that’s not you.

Next, I saw a text from my contractor, Tim.

I groaned out loud, and Wills shot me adon’t tell melook. I’d met Tim through his design editor girlfriend, Tabitha. Together, they’d remodeled her parents’ manor house, where we were now staying. Tim and I had become tentative, scarily competitive friends who didn’t miss an opportunity to give each other shit. I had no doubt he’d be delighted to highlight what an ass I’d been tonight.

Tim

What the fuck? My subbies are running scared at the prospect of working for your grumpy arse. You quite rightly called me out when I fucked up with Tabitha. Now I owe you the same courtesy. Pull your head in, mate.

I had planned on being the face of the clubhouse, which was supposed to be a place of safety and happiness, and this was going in the wrong direction.

We’d grown up in Derbyshire, and our parents were almost always absent. Even though we had a houseful of staff, I had been left to take care of Wills, which was why we were so close. Conversely, when they weren’t ignoring us, my parents had put enormous pressure on me because I was the heir and due to inherit the estate. My days were crammed with extra lessons about eventually managing the property and knowing all my future responsibilities but, of course, nothing that involved their presence.

The local clubhouse was where I got to be a regular kid and where my brother and I could have fun together. At first, the other kids gave us shit about being lords of the manor, but when we kept turning up day after day, year after year, eventually, we were plain old “Arcy and Will the pill.” We played board games and messed around with sticks and balls, and I felt like we belonged.

I still hadn’t found that as an adult.

Tomorrow, I’d make a big effort to be friendlier. Make sure we didn’t lose our clubhouse funding. Like I’d texted Shay, I had it all under control.

CHAPTER 8

Lizzy

Adeep, shouty voice woke me in the night. I bolted upright and checked my phone. Two a.m. The hairs sprang up on the back of my neck. Who the hell was it? Where was it coming from? He sounded close. And desperate. I glanced at Jane, still sleeping soundly in the next bed.

“Nala! Nala, honey! Please talk to me.” Clink. A stone hitting a window? “Please come down and open the door.” Clink.