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‘A single mother in charge of Rafferty’s?’ Charles Rafferty huffed out a disparaging laugh. ‘I thought you had more sense than that, Beaufils. As for you, Polly, I knew letting you take over was a mistake. I should have stuck with my gut instinct.’
The blood rushed from her cheeks and her knees weakened. He’d admitted it. He didn’t want her. Her appointment, her career was nothing but a mistake in his eyes.
‘Clara’s a single mother,’ Raff said. His voice was mild but there was a steely glint in his eyes. ‘At least she was. Polly, I’m sorry, you...’ He rubbed his jaw, the blue eyes rueful. ‘You surprised me but you’re not alone. I hope you know that. Clara and I are right here.’ Polly nodded, numb inside, her eyes returning to her grandfather, still standing up, still glaring.
‘You two always did stick together,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t change anything. It’s hard enough for any working mother to be at the top, impossible for a woman on her own. It’s not old-fashioned, it’s common sense.’
‘There are plenty of single parents at Rafferty’s, men and women.’ Gabe’s voice was soft but it cut through the tense air, drawing all the attention away from Polly, and she folded herself back into her chair, clasping her hands together to keep them from trembling.
‘The only person, monsieur, who sees a problem here is you. Which is ironic because if you had seen her worth earlier, if you hadn’t pushed her away, then maybe she wouldn’t be in this position. You need to think very carefully about how you treat and value your granddaughter before you lose her for ever—and the great-grandchild she is carrying.’
Charles Rafferty paled and Polly and Raff exchanged a concerned glance as he sat down heavily in his chair. His tongue wasn’t weakened though. ‘I thought we had established that this has nothing to do with you.’
Gabe didn’t quail under the withering tone. ‘Non? Who held her hair when she was sick? Who sat with her during the first scan? I didn’t ask to be involved but she has no one else. You make it quite clear that she can’t come to you.’
Charles Rafferty gasped, a shuddering intake of breath, and Polly was back on her feet. Before she could move round to him Raff had passed their grandfather a glass of water and her grandmother had moved round to him, her usually aloof expression one of concern.
This was all getting horribly out of hand. ‘Gabe!’ How dared he? How dared he try and explain away her actions? Interfere? ‘A word? In private?’
Still trembling but now more with anger than with shock, she led him outside. Normally her garden was one of her favourite spots with shady, hidden spaces and a stream running across the bottom. Today it was just somewhere convenient.
‘How dare you talk to my grandfather like that? What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
His mouth hardened into a thin line. ‘Standing up for you.’
The nerve of him! ‘I didn’t ask you to.’
His eyes narrowed contemptuously. ‘Non? I must have misunderstood the beseeching look you threw me when you sat there mute as your family shouted at you.’
‘I didn’t, at least I didn’t mean for you to attack my grandfather! I don’t need help. I am quite capable of standing up for myself.’
‘Oui, keep telling yourself that.’
The words were thrown at her, sharp as arrows, and she quailed under them. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘What I say. You tell me, you tell yourself that you don’t need anything—anyone.’ His eyes had darkened with an unbearable sympathy. ‘But you’re still just a little girl tugging at her grandfather’s sleeve wanting attention. Without it, you allow yourself to be nothing.’
Polly hadn’t known words could hurt before, not physically, but each of Gabe’s words was like a sharp stab in her chest. ‘How dare you...?’
‘He rules the board, he rules you. He uses his health to keep you quiet and his disapproval to keep you tame. When he said you couldn’t take over, did you stay to fight, to prove him wrong? No, you ran away.’
How had this happened? How had the passion and need of yesterday turned into these cruel words, ripping her apart?
‘I couldn’t stay. You know that.’
‘You chose not to stay.’ He laughed, not unkindly but the tone didn’t matter. The unbearable sympathy on his face didn’t matter. The words were all that mattered and they were harsh.
They were true. He had seen inside her and he was stripping her to the bone.
‘You were quick enough to label me a coward, to judge me, but you know what, Polly? You were right when you said we were just the same. We define ourselves through work because without it? What is there? Who are we? Nothing.’
