Chapter 6
Chapter Six
I spent the remainder of Saturday afternoon chewing over what Zach had said, before taking decisive action.
As soon as the clock struck five, I ushered Rowan and Amber out, insisting I would clear up, sweep the floor and water the plants that needed it.
Both girls were delighted, seeing as they’d agreed to meet up with some mutual friends to go clubbing in Glasgow.
Once they’d vanished in a typhoon of plaits and perfume, I locked the shop door, picked up my phone and brought Ezra’s mobile number up, which he’d given me when I called round.
He picked up after a few rings. “Bailey! How are you?”
“I’m all right, thanks.” I let out a worried sigh. “He’s been back here, Ezra. The journalist. Zach Stern.”
“What?!”
I took a breath. “Look, I know my suggestion sounded crazy, but we might just have to give this a shot – using Joshua as a decoy.”
Ezra let out an unconvinced grunt into my ear.
“Isn’t it worth giving this a try? It’s up to you, but if Zach Stern finds out you really have moved here, you’re going to end up splashed across that wretched magazine of his.”
I tried not to think about the mounting worry I had about my own life here. All it would take was one loose tongue or him digging around in my past and then my life would start tumbling down around me, like a pack of playing cards. The press would be salivating to be able to reveal how the so-called party-mad Bollinger Babe who was jilted at the altar and swindled by the man she loved was now running a little florists in the Scottish Highlands.
“I thought you were enjoying living here,” I murmured, as the pale light danced through the shop windows.
“I do,” Ezra assured me. “I feel settled for the first time in a very long time.” He hesitated. “But even if poor Josh were to agree to act as me, how on earth would it work?”
“I would speak to Zach and say I’d been thinking about his Ezra King search and that those two women who claimed they had a sighting of you were wrong. I’ll say it was a case of mistaken identity.”
“Dear God. A sighting? You make me sound like the Loch Ness Monster.”
I let out a bark of laughter. “I’ll say there’s somebody locally who I’ve realised looks like you and I’m certain that Joshua was the person the two women saw that day – not you.”
Ezra let out a long, low, dramatic breath of air. Then he laughed. “I’ve performed at the RSC and on the west end stage, sweetie, so being me would take some acting skill.”
I twitched my nose as I turned it all over in my head. “Ezra, Joshua won’t need to put on an acting performance. Those two ladies who saw you that day; they never spoke to you and I’m certain they didn’t take any photos of you. Zach Stern would’ve said.”
Ezra hesitated. I could hear the wheels turning in his head.
“It sounds like they don’t have any concrete proof it was the real Ezra King they saw.”
Ezra made a murmuring sound.
“So … what do you think?” I began to pace up and down the shop floor. Outside, in the Heather Moore sky, shards of stars were beginning to pop. “I know it sounds ludicrous, but it could work.”
“ Sounds ludicrous?!”
“Do you have a better suggestion for getting rid of this journalist, Ezra? Because I’m all ears.”
There was the crackle of phone connection.
“All right,” he agreed after a few seconds of deliberation. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think we have any other option.”
At least we were trying to do something. “Great. It’s not as if Joshua has to stalk around the town being you.” I paced again. “We just have to convince Zach Stern that it’s Joshua, and not you, who those women spotted.”
This mysterious scandal issue was sitting between us, but I couldn’t bring myself to mention it. How could I? It was none of my business, just like it was none of Zach Stern’s business. And Ezra didn’t seem to want to refer to it either.
Ezra made a clicking noise with his tongue down the line. “I have my doubts about your cunning plan, but all right.” He sucked in some air. “I’ll give Joshua a call now and use my persuasive charm on him. It worked with Sharon Stone back in 1986.”
I bit down a smile. “I’m sure it did.”
“Give me five minutes and I’ll call you back and let you know what he says. I’ll also offer him some extra renumeration for his efforts.”
“I’ll wait to hear from you.”
He ended the call and I popped my mobile down on the counter and faffed around watering and tending to the amaryllis. Its blood-red petals added a burst of vivid colour into the descending darkness of the shop.
I tilted my head to admire the flowers as I adjusted their stems in the vase. The amaryllis was said to symbolise strength, determination, and success. I stroked the petals, their velvety texture brushing against my fingertips.
No arrogant journalist, even if he did have spectacular dark eyes, was going to take my new life away from me. I wasn’t prepared to risk it.
My mind conjured up images of Zach Stern’s penetrating gaze again.
I found myself clearing my throat and drilled my attention back to the amaryllis.
I flinched as my mobile trilled on top of the counter.
It was Ezra. “I’ve just spoken to Joshua and after assuring him that this will all be a case of smoke and mirrors, he agreed, albeit rather hesitantly.” Ezra made a small chuckle. “I think the extra money I offered him did help to swing it in the end.”
“That’s wonderful,” I breathed. “Thank you, Ezra. Thank you so much. And please also thank Joshua from me too. I’m very grateful.”
Ezra hesitated down my ear. “Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you ? You sound even more delighted about this than I do. Why are you so grateful?”
“I––” I winced and wanted to chew my own tongue off. Even though Ezra couldn’t see me, I shrugged, then reached out and toyed with the glossy bottle-green leaves of a nearby Yucca plant. “Oh, you know, I’m … pleased we can protect your privacy,” I said quickly. “Anyway, I’ll give Zach a call tomorrow, say I’ve thought of something and arrange to meet up with him. Then I’ll tell him about Josh looking like you.” I gathered myself. “He might think I’m bluffing, but I’ll do my utmost to throw him off. It has to work.”
Ezra chuckled. “That sounds like a plan. Anything is worth a try.” He paused. “Thank you, Bailey. For helping me, I mean.”
“No, thank you . And I promise you your flowers will make Glasgow Botanic Gardens look modest!”