Chapter Eleven
Laurel
After the drama of Alex’s visit, the rest of the week had been nice and quiet. Laurel told Sylvie that the farm would sponsor her to do the course she wanted and she would find the money somewhere, somehow. She reworked the budget with Barbara and if everything went well this year, meaning no wedding cancellations and a half decent Pick Your Own season, then the farm would be more or less on an even keel.
Nate had promised her he’d fixed it with Alex. That funding, when it came through, would ensure that the farm was as far away from the edge of the abyss as they could be. Which wasn’t particularly far.
But, what if she didn’t get the funding for Hibbert’s fields? If developers bought the land, she could lobby against them, she would petition, she would bring injunctions. Whatever it took, because she was not going to let her mother’s little slice of heaven become a tourist resort.
Nate had come and gone through her office, telling her he would let her know as soon as he had news about Alex and the BAS. Well, he had until Monday before she took things into her own hands. It had already gone on far too long.
Laurel spent Saturday morning with Rebecca and the twins, brunching raucously at a cafe two towns over, then braving the parental hell of soft play.
‘So, have you managed to speak to Jack, properly?’ she asked her sister-in-law.
Rebecca’s eyes were on the ball pool.
‘Yeah, he went for a drink with Nate, thought about things, and said that he should be a bit more accepting of how hard it was for me.’
‘What?’ Laurel spluttered on her disgusting soft play coffee. ‘Nate convinced Jack to see another point of view?’
Rebecca grinned. ‘Looks like Nate is the Fletcher Whisperer.’
Laurel smothered a smile.
‘He still wants another one, but he’s willing to have a proper conversation about it, and a proper look at the division of labour in our family.’ Rebecca glanced at Laurel in disbelief. ‘That’s what he said, “division of labour in our family”.’
‘Fuck me, did he?’ she said, louder than she should.
‘Laurel,’ Rebecca admonished.
‘Sorry, sorry.’ Laurel looked around and cringed at the other parents. ‘Jack’s got a new boyfriend. You should be careful about that,’ she teased.
Rebecca smiled benevolently.
‘It’s good for him to have a non-farming friend, someone with a different, more enlightened opinion.’
Laurel took another sip of her coffee. She spent more time than she wanted to thinking about Nate and his different, more enlightened opinions. Well, less about that and more about his forearms pulling against his crumpled shirt, and his throat working in a swallow. Good job she didn’t get the words out in the pub, because quite frankly she could never sleep with him and then have the torture of working with him every day.
Yes, best leave all that in the box.
Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her handbag.
Huh, this was new. Perhaps he had heard something and this was his way of breaking the news to her gently, around a lot of people, and so she could drown her sorrows.
Surely, surely, it couldn’t be bad news if he was making her wait like this?
‘Who are you texting?’ Rebecca asked, craning her neck to spy her phone.
‘Nate. We’re meeting for a drink later. He’s got “news” about the BAS apparently.’
‘Laurel,’ Rebecca trailed off, tilting her head to the side.
‘I know, I know! I’m not putting myself out there to be shot down.’ Again.
Rebecca pursed her lips. ‘I’m not saying you shouldn’t put yourself out there, I’m just worried about you being hurt.’ She took Laurel’s hands over the table. ‘I want you to be happy, that’s all.’
‘I know.’ Laurel squeezed Rebecca’s hands. ‘If he’s attracted to me, he can make the first move.’
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. ‘Okay.’
‘And if he’s not, then he won’t.’ Laurel shrugged.
‘You’re giving a man an awful lot of credit. Men are stupid. They don’t know what they want and half the time they don’t know a good thing if it slapped them around the face.’
Laurel smiled. ‘He’s very highly educated. I’m sure he can make up his own mind.’
‘The educated ones are the worst!’ Rebecca grinned. ‘They have absolutely no common sense.’
The spectre of Alex and the power he held over her niggled at her brain.
‘What if it’s bad news?’
‘Tell me exactly? I’m not sure I follow,’ Rebecca said, giving Laurel her full attention.
Laurel explained that the gold brooch that had been found was probably a part of something bigger, a burial perhaps. If the British Archaeological Society, aka Alex, said ‘yes, Little Willow Farm dig site is of special historical importance’, then English Heritage would want to be involved. English Heritage came with funding for the dig, and for the farm; compensation for losing their field to the dig site. There would be media interest, academic interest, there would be grants that the farm could apply for – all with that little piece of paper from Alex that said ‘yes, this site is important’.
‘If it is a burial site, can you imagine?’ Laurel asked. ‘We could have an immersive history area, a living museum, a gift shop, all of it funded, or part-funded, by grants or English Heritage. Think of the money it would bring into the farm. You could go on holiday, because we could afford a thousand farm hands to do Jack’s job.’
Rebecca nodded slowly, her lawyer’s brain working. ‘If it’s bad news, you’ll deal with it, like you always do.’
Yeah, like she always did. Her stomach sank a little at that because just once it would be nice if everything went smoothly. It would be nice if she didn’t have to deal with it like she always did. God, what she wouldn’t give for a weekend off.
‘But, more importantly than that...’ Rebecca flicked her eyes over the ball pit. ‘What are you going to wear tonight?’
Laurel scoffed. ‘It’s not a date, Rebecca.’
‘No, but it’s an opportunity to show Dr Daley what he’s missing.’
Laurel chewed on her lip. She didn’t want him to think she was trying too hard.
‘I’ve got a beautiful silk top, classy, high neck, sleeveless. Perfect with jeans and sandals. You should—’ Rebecca stopped mid flow. ‘Lila! You throw balls at your brother once more and you will be going to bed without dessert tonight!’
‘Rebecca, if it’s see-through or super revealing, I’ll kill you, okay?’
‘You’ll look chic, classy and absolutely perfect,’ her sister-in-law winked at her. ‘I promise.’
Nate
Laurel was not on time. Or perhaps he was just early? But no, she’d been late to the pub when they were celebrating the first significant find. She was always early in the office, so what was it about the pub? Also, she lived up the road.
Nate checked his watch, again, before sipping his half-drained pint. There was a pint of lager on the little round table for Laurel, but for all he knew she was in a random mood and wanted Malibu and orange, or an espresso martini or something. Not that they would serve espresso martinis in the Dog & Gun.
His leg bounced impatiently and he glanced out the window up the road to see if he could spot her. Ah, there she was, rushing across the forecourt, past the benches and a smattering of locals and students. She was slightly flustered as she bustled into the pub, quickly making her way over his table and giving him a grin.
‘Hey, sorry I’m late. Got a bit caught up.’ Laurel sat and gestured to the lager. ‘Is that for me?’
‘Go ahead,’ he said, and she gulped back a large swig. ‘How was your day?’
‘Yeah, cut to the chase, Nate. You’ve got news and refused to tell me over the phone earlier. I’ve been worrying all day.’ Laurel tugged at the collar of her silvery top. ‘So put me out of my misery and just tell me that the BAS have declined to recommend the site for funding. Then I’ll go home and drown my sorrows with a bottle of white wine and a frozen lasagne.’
Nate pressed his lips together and frowned, before sighing and taking a long gulp draw of his ale.
‘You’re actually killing me, Nate! Come on, let me have it.’ Laurel pulled her hair over her shoulder and ran her fingers through it.
He debated whether to make her work for it, to keep her in suspense, but her big eyes were pleading and desperate.
‘Alex has been an absolute nightmare to get hold of. I’m sorry it’s taken this long. I called him again this morning, three times actually.’
‘Yes?’ She scowled at him. ‘Nate, seriously, I’m going to lose my shit in a minute. Just tell me.’
‘Okay, they’ve approved the site. They’re recommending Little Willow for funding.’ Nate grinned at her, but she just stared back. ‘You alright? Did you hear me?’
Laurel snapped her mouth shut.
‘Nate.’ Her voice was quiet. ‘You promise you’re not messing with me? I don’t think I could take it.’
His smile widened. ‘I’m not messing with you, Laurel. Funding is pretty much all but guaranteed with the BAS endorsing the site.’
Her throat bobbed in a swallow, and she pressed her fingers to the corners of her eyes, blinking rapidly. Was she nearly crying? He’d wanted to see her face when he told her the good news, but this was not the reaction he’d expected.
‘Laurel? Laurel, what’s the matter?’ He leaned over and touched her elbow lightly. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Oh god, I’m sorry.’ She puffed out a breath and gave him a watery smile. ‘I’m just so relieved.’
‘Good, I thought you were upset for a minute then.’ He leaned back in his chair, also relieved.
‘It means I don’t have to scrimp and save and worry. It means funding for the site is practically guaranteed, which means I could possibly, possibly scrape enough together to buy Hibberts’ fields. It means I can relax for a few minutes.’ Laurel’s eyes sparkled.
‘This calls for celebration! Angela,’ he called across the pub to the barmaid. ‘Champagne!’
Laurel laughed. ‘You think they have champagne here?’
‘Angela! Scratch the champagne! Prosecco instead!’
Angela scowled at him from the bar and he gave Laurel a wide grin.
She took a deep breath and placed her hands on flat on the table. It certainly seemed like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. He should have realised she would have panicked, and he winced.
‘Hey, I’m sorry for making you worry. I just wanted to tell you face-to-face.’
‘Don’t worry about it. Oh, thanks, Angela,’ she said as Angela plopped a couple of red wine glasses and what passed for ‘celebration sparkle’ on the table. He grabbed the bottle to pour and she moved their existing drinks to the side.
‘To Little Willow Farm,’ he said, holding his glass up to her. ‘And to you, for making it all happen.’
Her smile was infectious as she clinked her glass against his. He took a sip of his slightly warm prosecco and grimaced as it went down. It was not nice.
‘It’s a huge weight off my mind, Nate. Without this funding,’ she sighed. ‘I just don’t know how the farm would survive.’
He looked at her carefully. She was tired, and stressed, and no matter how much makeup she put on, she couldn’t hide the exhaustion in her eyes. When did she ever do anything for herself?
‘You need a break, Laurel. You were going on about Jack and Rebecca going away, but what about you?’
‘God, I can’t remember the last time I had a whole day off, let alone a break. It’s so hard not to worry all the time.’ She sipped her wine. ‘The farm means so much to me, I can’t let it fail.’
Nate leaned his chin on his hand. What must it be like to be so intrinsically linked to a place? Little Willow Farm was a part of Laurel Fletcher, just as she was part of it. But she still needed a break.
‘Hey, my uni friends have an annual barbeque. It’s next weekend. You should come.’
Well, that just popped out of his mouth.
Laurel looked taken aback. ‘Come with you to your friends’ barbeque?’
‘Yeah, why not?’ He was warming to the idea. ‘Get out of Lower Houghton, away from the farm for a little bit? Socialise with people who don’t talk about crop rotation and pig mastitis?’
She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I’ll have you know, pig mastitis is quite common and can be very painful for the sow.’
‘Okay, well, that’s excellent dinner party conversation.’ He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Come on, it will be fun.’
Laurel took a long look at him, and he could practically hear the cogs whirring in her mind.
‘Will Alex be there?’
‘Alex will be late, but he’ll be there.’ Nate shrugged. ‘It’ll be fine. Jess and Owen are so nice, and Paul will be there as well. Do you remember them from uni?’
‘Vaguely. You guys didn’t hang out with lowly undergrads.’
Was there a hint of bitterness in her tone? Or was it the bubbles from the nearly flat prosecco making her voice funny?
Now he’d said it out loud, he actually did want Laurel to come and meet his friends. Hanging out with Laurel was fun and would be even more fun if there wasn’t the spectre of the farm, or her family, or the dig site hanging around.
Laurel flicked her hair over her shoulder and her throat bobbed as she took a sip of her prosecco. He swallowed, because he could not look away from her pulse beating hard in her neck, her pink lips glistening with sparkling drops of wine. If he reached out, he could drag his thumb over that bottom lip. Something hard and warm expanded in his chest, pushing the air out of his lungs.
Shakily, he blew out his breath. What was that? He couldn’t reach over and touch her lip, that would be ridiculous. Wouldn’t it?
‘Okay, fine. I’ll come.’ Laurel narrowed her eyes at him. ‘But you have to run interference between me and Alex.’
‘Deal.’ Nate lifted his glass in a toast.
Her phone buzzed on the table and she quickly swiped at it. It buzzed again immediately and again, she swiped at it.
‘It’s Robin, and I don’t want to talk to him. He’ll just be moaning about something or other, and I don’t want to hear it.’
Laurel’s phone was hot tonight, because it buzzed again.
‘He really wants to talk to you,’ Nate said.
‘It’s Jack. Jack never calls. Sorry,’ she said, lifting the phone to her ear. ‘Jack. What is it? I’m busy.’
Nate looked away to give her some privacy and took the opportunity to get himself together. Yes, Laurel was beautiful, and yeah, following her collarbone with his tongue, licking into the V at the base of her neck, nipping at the softness where her neck met her shoulder, would probably be amazing. But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. Besides, who said she would even welcome that? A niggling thought in the back of his mind said that she would, that she nearly invited him back to hers that time. But copious amounts of alcohol had been involved, and people get flirty when they’ve had a bit to drink.
This attraction was passing, fleeting, and let’s face it, who wouldn’t be attracted to Laurel Fletcher? There wasn’t a lot not to like.
Nate could hear Laurel hissing down the phone.
‘What’s happened? Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’ There was a pause and he could hear Jack’s voice coming through the speaker. Jack was not happy. ‘Okay, okay, Jack. I’m coming.’
Laurel put the phone back on the table and looked at him, wilting. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.’
‘Is everything alright?
‘I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s urgent. Do you want me to take you back?’ She stood up from the table.
‘Yeah, if you could.’ She’d only had a quarter of a pint of lager and a few sips of prosecco.
Besides, he wanted to see what was so urgent that it destroyed Laurel’s sparkle.