“Yes. And that’s the problem.” There’s a wryness to Lorcan’s voice, and I reach out to squeeze his hand. “I’ll help you till my notice period is served out, then I’m going. And it’ll be for the best.”
“But what will I do?” Ben sounds genuinely freaked.
“You’ll take charge of the situation.” Lorcan takes a step toward him. “Ben, you’ve got a choice. You can sell the company to Yuri if you want to. Pocket the cash and have fun. But you know what else you could do? Take the reins. Take control. It’s your company. It’s your heritage. Make a go of it.”
Ben seems poleaxed.
“You can do it,” adds Lorcan. “But it’ll be a pretty big challenge. You’ll need to want to do it.”
“I made a gentleman’s agreement with Yuri.” Ben’s eyes dart wildly about. “Oh Jesus. I don’t know. What do I do?”
“Yuri Zhernakov is no gentleman,” says Lorcan sardonically. “So I think you’re safe there.” He sighs, ruffles his fingers through his hair, his face unreadable. “Look, Ben. I have the restructuring agreements in my briefcase, and I’ll take you through them tomorrow. I’ll explain what all your options are, as I see it.” He pauses. “But I’m not telling you what to do. Sell, not sell, it’s your choice. Yours.”
Ben’s eyes are fixed on Lorcan. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, apparently unable to speak. Then at last he turns on his heel and walks away, pocketing his BlackBerry as he goes.
“Well done.” I squeeze Lorcan’s hand again as we sit back down on the wall. “That was courageous.” Lorcan says nothing, just tilts his head.
“Will he make a go of it?” I ask tentatively.
“He might.” Lorcan exhales. “But if he doesn’t do it now, it’s never.”
“And what will you do when you leave?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugs. “Maybe I’ll take up that job offer I had in London.”
“London?” I say, brightening in spite of myself.
“Or Paris,” he says teasingly. “I’m fluent in French.”
“Paris is crap,” I say. “Everyone knows that.”
“Quebec, then.”
“Funny.” I hit him.
“I’m a lawyer.” Lorcan’s teasing tone disappears; he looks thoughtful. “That was my training. That was my career. And maybe I was knocked off course for a while. Maybe I did make the wrong choice.” His eyes flicker toward mine, and I nod in acknowledgment. “But now it’s time to get back on course.”
“Rev up the engine.”
“Full steam ahead,” he counters.
“You see life as a boat trip?” I say, in mock incredulity. “It’s a road trip. Everyone knows that.”
“It’s a boat trip.”
“It’s so a road trip.”
We sit there for a while, watching as the sunset turns from orange and pink to mauve and indigo and streaks of vivid crimson. It really is a corker.
Presently, Lottie and Richard come sauntering along the beach, and they perch on the wall beside us. They look good together, I can’t help thinking yet again. They just fit.
“So, I’m out of a job,” says Lorcan conversationally to Lottie, “and it’s all your sister’s fault.”
“It’s not my fault!” I exclaim at once. “How is it my fault?”
“If you hadn’t made me look at my life with a fresh pair of eyes, I never would have resigned.” His mouth twitches. “You have a lot to answer for.”
“I did you a favor,” I retort.
“Still your fault.” His eyes twinkle.
“Well …” I cast around. “No. I dispute that. It’s actually Lottie’s fault. If she hadn’t run off and got married, I would never have met you and we never would have discussed the matter.”
“Ah.” Lorcan nods. “Good point. I blame you.” He swivels to Lottie.
“It’s not my fault!” she retorts. “It’s Ben’s fault! That stupid marriage was all his idea. If he hadn’t proposed, I would never have come out here, and you would never have met Fliss.”
“So Ben’s the villain of the piece?” Lorcan raises a quizzical eyebrow.
“Yes,” Lottie and I say in unison.
“Yes,” agrees Richard firmly.
The sky is a deep purple by now, mottled with midnight blue. The sun is a sliver of orange brightness at the horizon. I imagine it sliding down to another bit of the world, another bit of the sky, shining on other sets of Lotties and Flisses, with all their troubles and joys.
“Wait,” I say, and sit bolt upright at the realization. “The villain of the piece isn’t Ben, it’s Richard. If he’d proposed to Lottie in the first place, none of this would have happened.”
“Oh,” says Richard, and rubs his nose. “Ah.”
There’s a weird, silent little beat, in which I wonder wildly whether Richard will hurl himself onto one knee on the sand and do the business, but it passes, and no one says anything. Yet there’s a strangeness in the air now; this is pretty awkward; I should never have mentioned it.…
“Well, I can do something about that.” Lottie has a strange fire in her eyes. “Wait there. I need my bag.”
We all watch in puzzlement as she hurries back to the restaurant, heads straight to our table, and starts scrabbling in her handbag. What on earth is she up to?
And then suddenly I gasp. Oh God. I know. I want to hug myself with glee, with nerves, with anticipation. This could be amazing, this could be brilliant.…
Do not fuck it up, Richard.
And now she’s coming back toward us and her chin is up but trembling, and I can see exactly what she’s going to do, and I am so, so, so glad I am here to see this.
I can’t breathe. Lottie is walking slowly and deliberately up to Richard. She kneels down in front of him and holds out a ring.
It’s quite a nice ring, I see, to my relief. Quite manly.
“Richard,” she says, and blows out sharply, as though with nerves. “Richard …”
36
LOTTIE
Tears are in my eyes. I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s what I should have done in the first place.
“Richard,” I say for a third time. “Even though I’m currently married to someone else—will you marry me?”
There’s a taut, still silence. The last sliver of light from the sun slips away into the sea, and, above us, tiny stars start to glimmer in the deep-blue sky.
“Of course. Of course. Of course.” Richard envelops me in a bear hug.
“You will?”
“Of course! It’s what I want. Marriage. To you. Nothing else. I was an idiot before.” He hits his own head. “I was a fool. I was a—”
“It’s OK,” I say gently. “I know. So … it’s a yes?”
“Of course it’s a yes! Oh God.” He shakes his head. “Of course it’s a yes. I’m not letting you get away again.” He’s holding my hand so tightly, I think he may break a bone.
“Congratulations!” Fliss throws her arms around me, while Lorcan pumps Richard’s hand energetically. “You’re engaged! For real this time! We need champagne!”
“And an annulment,” puts in Lorcan drily.
I’m engaged! To Richard! I feel light-headed with euphoria and shock at myself. I proposed? I proposed? Why didn’t I do this before? It was easy!
“Good work!” says Lorcan, kissing me. “Congratulations!”
“I’m so happy.” Fliss is hugging herself. “So, so, so happy. It’s exactly what I hoped for.” She shakes her head disbelievingly. “After all that.” She reaches out and squeezes my hand.
“After all that.” I squeeze it back. A waiter is passing, and Fliss summons him over.