Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
T hey made it almost the entire way to the palace before Warren’s mum brought up the inevitable.
“How long did you say you’ve known Anna?” she asked from the back seat, her tone almost convincingly casual.
“For as long as I’ve lived here, but I only got to know her properly over the past couple of years.”
For his first couple of years in Chipping Campden, he’d been certain he wouldn’t stay long. He’d kept his head down and focused on his job. With hindsight, it should have been obvious that he and Lewis would end up becoming friends, given how much time they both spent at the hotel.
He might also have guessed that being friends with Lewis would mean the entire Carrington family would adopt him as a friend by proxy, but he’d never realised some families operated like theirs.
“She’s lovely,” his mum said, clearly dying to say more. “I’m glad we got to meet her.”
In the passenger seat, his dad nodded. “You’ve done well for yourself there. I admire her determination. It seems she has a solid plan for growing her business. Hopefully, some of that might rub off on you.”
Warren’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“Dennis,” his mum hissed, a warning note in her voice.
“What?” his dad grumbled. “Anyone with an ounce of business sense knows that working for someone else is a mug’s game. He may be too proud to admit it, but Warren knows it too.”
“I like my job,” Warren said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to run my own business.”
“You’re lining someone else’s pocket when you could fill your own.”
Warren dragged in a breath, thinking about Carla’s anger management strategies. “Not every decision in life should be decided by money.”
“You can also set your own hours. That way, you wouldn’t have to miss out on things like a night away with your girlfriend.”
It took Warren a second to figure that he was referring to the Christmas party with Anna. He hadn’t even registered that his dad had been listening to that conversation.
A voice in his head told him to bite his tongue and not let his dad get to him, but he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself.
“So you having your own business meant that you could organise your own schedule exactly as you wanted it?” he asked. “Am I supposed to assume that you just didn’t want to see your children when they were growing up?”
“We had plenty of family time,” his dad said, in a tone that suggested he believed it.
“Selena and I were practically raised by hired help,” Warren argued. Which was actually fine. The house had always been more relaxed when his parents weren’t around, but it was ridiculous for his dad to claim that being self-employed offered so much freedom when his life proved the exact opposite.
“Your dad and I might have spent a lot of time building up the business when you were younger,” his mum said. “But it paid off in the long run.”
“We built something really special for you and your sister,” his dad said, his voice laced with pride.
“It’s a shame it’s not something I want,” Warren growled. No amount of breathing exercises would stave off the anger that pulsed through his veins.
His dad rubbed his forehead. “I see your stubborn streak hasn’t diminished at all.”
“Can we please not argue?” In the rearview mirror, Warren caught his mum’s look of defeat. “He made his choices. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Again, Warren bit his tongue. It had been years since he’d decided not to go into the family business, and he’d never regretted that decision for a moment.
What he regretted was agreeing to his parents’ visit. And especially the tiny part of him that had stupidly hoped they might finally have accepted his choices.
“Look at that!” His mum pointed to the palace, which loomed ahead.
Awash with golden Christmas lights, the imposing building was a striking sight, which thankfully kept his parents in a stunned silence while he followed the traffic into the car park and found a spot.
As he’d hoped, the following conversations revolved around the sights and sounds in the palace.
This year, the elegant rooms had been elaborately decorated with a Sleeping Beauty theme, and it even had the effect of relaxing Warren a little.
The light trail in the grounds was perfectly pleasant too, and he enjoyed watching his mum’s enthusiasm.
They strolled around the Christmas market in the courtyard, and Warren cast a glance at the Santa’s grotto.
Nicholas Carrington would be posing as Santa again, and in other circumstances, he’d nip in and say a quick hello.
He smiled, thinking of how Nicholas would chastise him if he found out Warren had been nearby and hadn’t called in.
He made a mental note to drop it into conversation the next time he saw him, specifically so he’d get a lecture.
“You look happy,” his mum said, her cheeks rosy from the two mugs of mulled wine she’d drunk.
“Do I?” he asked, amused by his mum clutching his arm. She was only ever tactile when she had alcohol in her.
“Thinking about your girlfriend?” she asked quietly. Subtlety wasn’t her strong suit after a drink, and she’d obviously been dying to confirm his relationship status all day.
He should probably put her straight on the matter, but he had a mental vision of her chatting to her friends at her Pilates class and filling them in on her visit. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give her the pleasure of being able to brag that her son had a lovely girlfriend.
He could imagine it clearly. Still doing that terrible job, but at least he’s got a nice girlfriend.
“Maybe,” he finally replied, to avoid outright lying.
She squeezed his arm, eyes dancing with excitement.
“We should go,” he said. “You need food to soak up some of that alcohol.”
“Stick in the mud!” she said affectionately. “Work hard, play hard. You know, that’s always been my philosophy.”
He waved his dad over, and they wandered back to the car. The alcohol seemed to have subdued them, and it was a pleasantly quiet drive back to their hotel.
They were amiable enough over dinner at their hotel as well, but mostly because Warren let his dad rattle on about business as though they hadn’t had almost the same conversation the previous evening.
At least the food was delicious. Warren had heard great things about the chef, and the food lived up to the hype.
His mind wandered once or twice to his own kitchen, and he fought the urge to message and check that everything was going okay.
Anna might have been right that he should have more faith in his staff.
“This has been lovely,” his mum said, reaching over to squeeze Warren’s hand and clueing him into the fact that his dad had finally stopped droning on. “I wish we could see more of you.”
“It’s been nice,” he said. “I’ll try to visit in the new year.”
“Yes. Your sister would love to see you.”
Warren wasn’t convinced that was true. He wouldn’t mind seeing his nephew, though. His sister’s four-year-old was the one person who made his visits bearable.
“We’re also going to the house in Bath before Christmas. Selena will be there with little Josh. He’s at a lovely age. You should join us.”
“Is Phil going?” he asked, not sure of the last time he’d seen his brother-in-law.
“No.” His dad lifted his napkin from his lap and scrunched it on the table in front of him. “I need someone I trust to keep an eye on the business.”
“Of course,” Warren said.
It was a dig, and not a subtle one, but he refused to rise to it. He only wished his dad would be content with having his daughter and his son-in-law in the family business and get over the fact that Warren had no interest in it.
With dinner winding down, he reminded himself that the visit was almost over and he’d got through it with minimal drama.
“You could bring Anna with you,” his mum said, drawing his attention.
“Where to?” he asked, entirely lost.
“Bath. I’m sure Selena will be keen to meet her. ”
“December is busy with work,” he said.
“You could just come for a day or two,” his mum suggested. “It’d be a nice relaxing break for you both.”
It wouldn’t, and it amazed him that his mum lived in a fantasy world where she genuinely believed it could be relaxing for him to spend time with them.
“I’ll send you the dates,” she said, patting his hand. “Chat it through with Anna and let me know.”
“I won’t be able to take time off work.” He didn’t want her getting it into her head that this was a possibility.
“We’ll see.” Judging by her smile, she wouldn’t be deterred on the matter, and it felt easier to let it go. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you and get my beauty sleep,” she said, then yawned in what seemed to be a deliberate gesture.
“I should get going anyway,” he said, and felt a pang of relief that the ordeal was almost over.
“Stay and have a drink with your dad. He’d like that. Wouldn’t you, Dennis?”
“Let’s move to the lounge,” his dad said, standing.
“I actually need to go,” Warren protested. “I have an early start tomorrow.”
“It’s only nine.” His dad clapped him on the back. “I want to have a drink with my son. Come on.”
Since arguing felt futile, he kissed his mum goodbye and promised he’d see her soon, then followed his dad into the lounge area.
“What’s your preference for whisky?” he asked, sinking into a leather wingback by the fire.
“I don’t drink whisky,” Warren told him wearily.
“Don’t be daft. I want to drink a whisky with my son.” He waved the waiter over and ordered two glasses of Glenfiddich.
Warren didn’t bother arguing further. If his dad wanted to throw money away, so be it. Not that the whisky would go to waste. His dad would polish them both off, despite having consumed the best part of a bottle of wine with dinner.
The waiter returned, and Warren dutifully clinked his glass against his dad’s before setting it down.
“I have a proposition for you,” his dad said without preamble.
Warren felt a headache coming on and rubbed his temple. “If it involves me coming to work for you, I’ll stop you now to save you from wasting your breath.”
His dad held a hand up. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Be sensible. At least listen to what I’m offering.”
“There’s nothing you could offer that would interest me,” he said, smiling at the absurdity of the conversation. “As impossible as it is for you to understand, I like my life. I enjoy my job.”
“You enjoy making a point,” his dad said, shaking his head. “Enough is enough, though.”
“I’m not trying to make a point.” He closed his eyes. “I was never trying to make a point. I just wanted to do something else.”
“There’s no shame in admitting you were wrong,” his dad said as though Warren hadn’t spoken.
“Wow,” Warren said, stretching his neck and fighting the urge to walk out. “Why are you here, Dad?”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, why did you come to visit me? Was it just so you could try to talk some sense into me?”
He took a measured sip of his drink. “Your mother thinks it’s time we sorted things out. I agree with her, of course. Hence the olive branch.”
Warren blinked slowly. “I’m sorry – was there an olive branch?”
“I’m offering for you to come back to the family business. Even after everything that’s happened. ”
“How big of you,” Warren said, his words heavy with sarcasm.
“Come on now. Your mum has her heart set on us making amends. Do the right thing. For her sake, if nothing else.”
For a moment, all Warren could do was stare at his dad. Then he exhaled a long breath and stood up.
“Goodbye, Dad,” he said as he walked away.