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No, this wasn’t what she had expected at all. Where was the hard-driving, ambitious, unscrupulous sales technique she had expected? Where was the sharp cutting edge of the London-trained businessman?
Honesty had always been one of Charlotte’s strongest virtues. It niggled at her now, forcing her to confess to Mrs Birtles, ‘Lovely though your home is, I’ve got to admit I’ve never handled this kind of sale before.’ She looked instinctively towards Oliver as though seeking his support. ‘Mr Tennant is probably far better placed to advise you on the best way of achieving a sale.’
She saw a faint hint of respect tinging Oliver’s eyes. Had he really expected her to behave less professionally and honestly than he had himself? Now he spoke again.
‘To be honest with you, Mrs Birtles, this is a prestigious property, and would be best handled in conjunction with one of the agents who specialise in handling such properties on a countrywide basis.
‘As it happens, I know one of the partners in one of these agencies, and I’d be delighted to arrange for him to come down here and see you.’
‘No,’Mrs Birtles told him firmly. ‘My husband always believed in giving his business to local people and I have carried on that tradition.’
‘Well, then, in that case,’ Oliver said with a smile, ‘perhaps I could suggest that you appoint both Miss Spencer and myself as joint agents. That way you could have the benefit of our joint expertise.’
‘Joint agents…that’s a marvellous idea,’ Mrs Birtles enthused, while Oliver looked across at Charlotte, one eyebrow lifted as he awaited her comments.
Joint agents… That was the last thing she had expected him to suggest. There was a hard lump of emotion in her throat. Honesty compelled her to admit that he had probably far more experience in this field than she did herself, and he must know that, and yet he had still suggested a joint agency.
She swallowed and said huskily, ‘We’ll both do our best to obtain a good sale for you, Mrs Birtles.’
There were various arrangements to be made. The items to be sold would have to be catalogued. Charlotte had had experience of this while working for an auction house during her university holidays, and offered to take over this chore.
‘It will give me an opportunity to teach Sophy how to prepare a catalogue,’ she explained, when Oliver said quietly to her,
‘Cataloguing is a bit of a chore—are you sure?’
‘Sophy is working for you?’ He frowned.
‘Just on a part-time basis at the moment,’ Charlotte told him. ‘To fit in with the twins.’ Pride forbade her to add that Sophy’s job would be more temporary than she had planned if he succeeded in taking the major part of her business.
He was still frowning. ‘I shouldn’t have thought your business merited taking on extra staff at the moment.’
Mrs Birtles had left the room to instruct her housekeeper to bring them all some coffee, and so there was no one to overhear them as Charlotte forgot how grateful she had been to him not five minutes before and hissed bitterly, ‘What do you know about my business? For your information, until you decided to open up in this area—’ She bit her lip, suddenly aware of what she was giving away, but it was too late.
Oliver was saying softly, ‘You took Sophy on because you knew, if she didn’t have a job, she’d lose her home.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Charlotte denied. ‘I’m a businesswoman, not a charitable organisation.’
There was no opportunity for them to say any more because Mrs Birtles had returned.
After they had finished their coffee, Charlotte offered to drive over the following week to take the necessary measurements on a day when Mrs Birtles had informed her that the house would be empty.
When Oliver shook his head, Charlotte stared at him. Didn’t he trust her to do the job properly?
‘I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come to an empty house, especially one that’s so remote,’ he told her calmly. When she started to object, he said quietly, ‘Yes, perhaps I am overreacting a little, but you forget, I’m from London. Few agents there can forget that Suzy Lamplugh disappeared after ostensibly showing a prospective client around an empty property.’
Charlotte stared at him, confused by the conflicting emotions she was experiencing. He was so compassionate, so caring, and she was so unused to this kind of protective concern from anyone, least of all from a man.
‘But I shan’t be showing anyone around,’ she told him when she had got herself under control and subdued the sudden rush of helpless pleasure his concern brought.
