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“No. But I’m quite capable of carrying my own luggage, thanks.”
“Oh? So you don’t need me anymore, then?”
“I’ll always need you, Pat. You know that.”
If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have kept her on after Dad’s death… especially as we’d all essentially left home by then. I only come back here on the weekends. Drew comes back every so often, but when he does, he lives in the guest cottage, not the main house, and Ella’s been in Europe for the last four years, barring vacations. The place wouldn’t be the same without Pat and Mick, though, and there’s no way I’d even consider letting them go.
She nods her head, smiling. “I’ve got some sea bass for your dinner.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Clearly giving up with the battle of the bag, she turns, going through the archway and into the living area, and then onward to the kitchen at the back of the house. “Ready at seven-thirty?” she calls over her shoulder.
“Thank you.”
I head up the stairs and turn right at the top, going around the landing to my room, which is the second door on the left. Inside, I let out a sigh. I love this room. It’s so tranquil, and Pat’s left the window open, so the drapes are billowing in the breeze. I wander over, looking out across the lawn to the woodland beyond, and dump my bag on the couch, sighing even more deeply. I might love it here, but I wish…
“Oh, stop it,” I mutter to myself. There’s no point in wishing.
I learned that a long time ago.
“Is there a reason you seem a little quieter than usual?” Pat says as I swallow the first mouthful of my sea bass.
I’m sitting at the island unit in the kitchen, in one of the wicker chairs, and she’s clearing up the mess she’s just made while preparing my dinner.
“Am I quieter?”
“Yes.”
“It’s just work,” I say, putting down my fork and taking a sip of white wine from the long-stemmed glass before me. “Sales aren’t great, it looks like two of our competitors might be merging, and to make things worse, my PA has just handed in her resignation.”
“I see. And that’s it, is it?”
I look up at her. She’s standing now, with her back to the stove, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes boring into mine. It’s quite unnerving.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I just got the feeling you were pining for something.”
I don’t know why it still surprises me that Pat can read me like a book, but I’m not giving in that easily. “Like what?”
“Like someone to share all this with, maybe?” Dammit. How does she know that’s exactly what I was just wishing for, right before I convinced myself there’s no point in wishing? Not that I’m about to admit that. I’ll stick to going on the offensive instead.
“If you think I’m pining for Sadie, you’re wrong.”
She shakes her head. “I wasn’t thinking about Sadie. She was never right for you.”
“My father used to say that, and I’d rather not hear it from you.”
She smiles. “Just because you don’t wanna hear something, doesn’t make it any less true.”
“How would you know, Pat? You never met her.”
“Exactly,” she says, like she’s stating the obvious. “You dated her for six months. You even moved her into your apartment. But you never once brought her here.”
“You’re forgetting, I was away for a lot of that time.”
“No, I’m not. I remember you going to Europe. But what stopped you from bringing your girlfriend here before you went?”
