Chapter Three
James
J ames rested back in his swivel chair at the head of the conference table in the Duchan Fayre boardroom, tapping his finger on the wood. His father was… Well, being his father. How anyone could muster this level of enthusiasm about a new range of cheese was beyond him. And yet Laurence kept going.
‘It’s not a local company, but they’re very well known on the west coast.’ Laurence glanced around the table at the nods of approval. He smiled and gave the greying hair at his temple a little flick. ‘They won two categories at the Royal Highland Show last year and we’re missing a trick not stocking them.’
‘Sounds perfect,’ Henry Dawson, the chief financial officer, said.
James nodded, his eyes straying back to his screen. He clicked open a browser window, half-glancing at it but looking like he was one hundred per cent present at the meeting. Since the weekend, his thoughts hadn’t drifted far from the idea of riding lessons and he’d almost talked himself into it, but he wanted to do it on his own terms. If he told his parents about it, they’d want to micromanage the whole thing; they’d demand constant progress reports and probably tell everyone, so there would be no chance of pretending to Lady Victoria he knew how to ride already because she’d have heard on the grapevine that he was taking lessons, which would make the whole thing pointless.
He typed riding schools into the search bar and resized the window so it would be easy to hide. A couple of places came up. Someone called Ross McPherson who ran a stable yard and the Glenvorneth Estate. James held his breath as he read the name. That was where Ophelia lived – practically owned. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to go back there.
‘So, James, your thoughts on this?’ his father said.
‘Hmm?’ James looked up. ‘Oh… I think it’s solid.’
Laurence rubbed his hands together. ‘Great. We’ll approve that then.’
‘Indeed.’ What else could he say? It seemed like his lot in life to agree with people and not rock the boat too much. His choices usually consisted of “yes, probably” or “yes, definitely”. Saying no wasn’t something he’d mastered, especially when it came to his parents. He pulled a face at his screen, not overly delighted at that thought, but at a loss about how to escape the situation. His mum and dad held so much of his future in their hands and a lot of it he appreciated. He didn’t want to upset or offend them. His father’s health was a source of concern, but more than that, they’d built Duchan Fayre as a legacy for their family. James’s sister Eloise was head of recruitment, though was currently on maternity leave after having her second child. This was where he belonged and for the most part he enjoyed it, though a little less time spent analysing cheese would suit him.
He narrowed his eyes as he reread the word Glenvorneth . A memory stirred. When he’d been at the Glenbriar Highland Games last year with Ophelia, they’d talked about her stable manager… Dagmar. James had recognised the name straight away. It was so unusual. He’d never heard it before or since Dagmar Ingenfeld. Surely it had to be the same girl he was at school with. She’d been horse mad then too. Ever since they were at Primary School, and she’d been obsessed with those plastic Schleich horses – his sister had been into them too. At High School, people had teased Dagmar about her love of horses, especially before she got braces, and her front teeth stuck out. She’d got some stick for that with people calling her horse face and other cruel names. It hadn’t sat easily with James at the time, but she hadn’t been in any of his classes, so he’d never had much opportunity to talk to her, though he’d often said to his friends to give her a break and leave her alone. Not that they’d listened. He didn’t keep in touch with any of them now. He’d made his own friends, or his parents cultivated “better” friends for him. Some of them were ok, but others he kept at a distance. His parents’ taste was so blighted by their desire to look “posh” that they now saw money and status as a better indicator of a good person than their personality.
James was sure they hadn’t always been like that. If only he could shift their mindset back to how it had been before Duchan had got so successful. Wouldn’t that make everyone happier? He just wasn’t sure how to manage it.
Would Dagmar even remember him? Maybe he could pay for some private lessons on the QT. Would that work right under Ophelia’s nose? Though by all accounts, she was busy with her builder boyfriend fixing up the estate properties. Maybe her eyes would be elsewhere. Ross McPherson was surely a safer option.
The meeting continued, with discussions about inventory, sales targets, and upcoming events. James needed to focus, but his mind kept drifting back to the stables and which course of action might be best. The sensible choice may be Ross McPherson, but something had sparked inside him at the memory of Dagmar. A burning curiosity that seemed to have come from nowhere, though it wasn’t entirely new. He loosened his tie and rolled his neck a little. He’d had this sensation at school a few times, but he’d beaten it down. Dagmar had got so quiet and closed to the point of being icy at High School and even on occasions when he’d attempted to talk to her or offer an olive branch, she’d run away. It always seemed strange after they’d been primary school friends, but it wasn’t unusual for people to drift apart, and he’d had so many friends. There had always been something about her. Something he could never quite put his finger on, but something that brought his mind back to her again and again… As it had done at school.
As Henry gave his report on the finances, James slipped his screen open again and typed Dagmar Ingenfeld into the search box. Unsurprisingly, every result was from horse shows she’d won. There were photos too of her in a smart jacket and jodhpurs. Christ. She wasn’t an awkward buck-toothed schoolgirl anymore. Her stunning blue eyes caught him even from a photo that wasn’t the best quality, and he frowned. There was something about her that kept him looking longer than he should. She had a pretty face, and it was interesting too – sharp eyes, a shapely nose, well-defined lips.
He glanced around and caught Henry’s eyes. Not wanting to look like he wasn’t paying attention, he leaned back, nodding.
‘We’ve also expanded the pot for community outreach projects.’ Henry put up a new slide on the whiteboard. ‘It’ll mean we can support more local causes and get our name out there.’
‘That’s great.’ James said. Henry pulled up the next slide, and James flicked his eyes back to his own screen, ready to close the window when he saw a search result matching Dagmar to a post on a local business group on a social media site. He clicked it and the message opened.
Reading down, he frowned, running his fingers around his jaw.
Interesting. Yes.
He vaguely remembered her mother owned a café, but he hadn’t recalled that it was in Glenbriar. Tapping his finger on the desk again, he refocused on Henry.
‘Would this fund be something we could use to support other local businesses? Ones that are long established and well-known in the town, but maybe need some modernisation?’
‘Absolutely,’ Laurence cut in before Henry could reply. ‘That’s exactly the kind of thing we want to be seen doing. We want Duchan to be part of the community, working with other places. It gives us the family friendly image that we need.’
‘Great.’ James minimised the screen and looked out of the window. He was sitting here with the means to help Dagmar with the café. Should he suggest it or let it go? Maybe getting involved with her wasn’t something he needed to stir up again.
Must be sensible.
Later he’d call Ross McPherson. His life had enough shit going on and while something about Dagmar still intrigued him, courting trouble was just plain stupid.
Ross McPherson sounded very pleasant, but unfortunately, he didn’t have space available soon enough. Should James resort to Plan B? He definitely didn’t want to ring Glenvorneth. His parting from Ophelia had been amicable enough, but that didn’t mean he had a burning desire to talk to her again, and he definitely didn’t want to explain what he was up to.
But now he knew his way around the estate, he was confident he could drive to the stables without drawing attention to himself. It was open for livery and lessons, so other people would be milling in and out.
Come the weekend, he’d talked himself into it and drove to the estate around the side of Loch Briar. He went in the main gate but turned off, so he didn’t pass the big house. A small, gravelled car park was behind the old steading and a few cars were in it. None of them were Ophelia’s crimson BMW, which was a good start. He craned his neck, scanning across the field. Some horses wandered about in the paddocks, but no one was with them.
A crow landed on the fence in front of him and sat on the post, glaring at him. Something about its unflinching eyes was unsettling.
The sound of voices caught his attention, and he snapped his gaze away from the crow to the yard in front of the stable. Two girls in riding hats came out chatting and James drew back. One of them was Ophelia’s sister. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice him – and even if she did, she might not remember him. He made to start the engine, when another person came out behind them. That hair was instantly recognisable. Who else had a plait that long? It ran the length of her back, falling straight down the middle of a green waxed jacket.
His hand hovered on the start button. Stay or go? Well, he’d made it this far. But really, this was insane. Time to go. A sharp knock on his window made him jump. His head snapped around and his eyes widened. Oh god. Ophelia. It couldn’t get much worse, could it?
He opened the door and got out, standing to face her. Her height always made her even more intimidating alongside her model looks.
‘James.’ She half smiled and frowned. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Oh, I… um.’ He fiddled with his cuff. ‘Just came to see how the building work went. The last time I saw the stables, they weren’t complete.’
‘Ah yes.’ She smiled, and it was kind of disarming. He’d never fancied her in that way, but her attractiveness was never in any doubt. ‘Jacinta mentioned something about it. You know, the way she rattles on. But I thought she must be joking.’
James furrowed his brow. What did she mean? Jacinta was her stepmother, a well-known gossip, but she couldn’t have any clue why he was here. No one knew. Even himself.
‘Mentioned what?’
‘You’re looking for a place to stable a horse, are you not?’
‘Um…’
‘Your mother told Jacinta you’d taken up riding again. I never knew you could ride.’ She eyed him over and a small smirk played at the corner of her lips. ‘You never mentioned it.’
His chest tightened. How ridiculous was this? He’d visited the stables with her before and probably shown himself to be the least horsey person imaginable. No wonder she looked suspicious. And she was related to the Earl of Dairvin. Christ . One word to Lady Victoria from Ophelia and this little charade would fail before it even started.
James cleared his throat. ‘Oh, uh, yes. I’m not quite at the stabling stage yet. I need to… you know, refresh my riding skills. Haven’t been in the saddle for a while.’
Ophelia raised an eyebrow, still watching him with steely eyes. ‘Refreshing your riding skills? Right.’
She couldn’t make it more obvious she didn’t believe a word of it. And could he really blame her?
‘So, would you like a lesson?’
He clenched his jaw. Not from her. Surely, she wasn’t offering. ‘Well, um…’ He ran his hand through his hair.
‘Because if you do, we have Dagmar Ingenfeld working here. She’s the best instructor around. You know her already, don’t you? Weren’t you friends at school or something?’
‘We knew each other. Not that well. She might not even remember me.’ It might be best if she didn’t. He may have tried to stop his friends teasing her, but how would she know that? She’d avoided him as much as the others and probably thought him equally culpable.
‘Oh, I’m sure she does. I asked her once.’
Great . He let out a breath. ‘She’s probably too busy. I should have called first. I can still do that. Make an official appointment, you know?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Ophelia smiled. ‘Come on, I’ll take you to her. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.’
He doubted it. Why had he ever thought this was a good idea? If Dagmar remembered him, it was unlikely to be for a good reason.
‘She doesn’t bite.’ Ophelia raised an eyebrow, and her lip quirked like she was amused. And no wonder. She was undoubtedly trying to figure out what was going on. Good luck to her because James wasn’t sure himself. All he knew was in a few seconds he would be face to face with someone he hadn’t spoken to for over twelve years.