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Finally he asked, “Better?”
Nodding, she managed, “Yes, thank you. About tonight, I’m sorry—”
“Best to leave while you’re ahead when you’re the new kid on the block.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Dancing on the table at 2 a.m. before you’ve even started working for them probably wouldn’t be a good look.”
“Not when the tables are made of Albanian marble.” Alice managed a weak giggle. “There was a lot more alcohol flowing than food, that’s for sure.”
“Oh god, did you try a canape?”
“Seaweed and ants?”
“Yeah, seriously weird shit.”
“I quite liked it until Miranda Bendt told me what it was, then my stomach nearly flipped it right back out.” Alice managed a weak giggle.
“I fed mine to the pooch.”
“Aaron, no.”
“Yep, when I came to find you I still had it in my hand; the dog followed me, breathing like a miniature Darth Vader, so I handballed the canape to it.”
“It’ll probably vomit it up on one of their priceless Persian rugs.”
Now they were both laughing. Her body felt limp like a newborn kitten. In this state it was possible to appreciate the way one of Aaron’s legs swung so close to hers, the sting of salty air in her nostrils, the flash of a ship’s lights out on the horizon. “Oliver isn’t really coming to Perth tonight, is he?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Has he been in London?”
“No. He’s arriving from Sydney. But meeting him from overseas added more gravitas.”
“Why’s he here?”
“A book festival gig. Also I think him and Dad are hatching a double-act publication. Blake Financials Inc. conquer the world.”
Alice cast him a sideways glance. “Does that still bother you?”
She sensed the shrug of the broad shoulders next to her. “Not now I’m—as Dan christened me—the newbig swinging dickin town.” He gave a little bark of a laugh. “I’ll probably be saving their arses when they’re caught recommending dodgy hedge fund investments.”
“They wouldn’t!”
“Probably not. But it’s a nice revenge fantasy.”
Alice didn’t say anything. They’d had enough discussions about how differently David Blake treated his two sons. Oliver, the golden boy who could do no wrong and Aaron, who only had to say hi the wrong way and his dad’s nose was out of joint. From what she knew, it had got worse after Oliver and Aaron’s mum died, but Aaron had always been vague about that period of his life. Said he didn’t remember much, even though he was twelve years old when his mum had the car accident. Polly, in one of their frequent “Aaron dissections”, had said that maybe Aaron being blond and blue-eyed like his mum was too much of a reminder for his dad. Who knew?
Polly had a theory on everything and some of them were way off the mark.
Which meant…
Alice’s stomach dropped.
“I think I stuffed up the girlfriend thing.”
“No, you didn’t. They loved you, particularly the wives.”
“Apart from Delia Trojan, who said she enjoys reading, they all thought I was a freak. They called owning a bookshop ‘quaint’.”
“That fits. You are kind of quaint.”
