Chapter 1
PRESENT DAY
The restaurant hummed around me with the polite chaos of the lunch rush, but I barely noticed the clatter of cutlery or the punchy waft of garlic from the neighbouring tables.
I stabbed my fork into my chicken salad with unnecessary force, sending a cherry tomato rolling across the white tablecloth.
“He actually said that?” Katy leaned forward, her eyes wide with sisterly indignation. “That your proposal was ‘cute’?”
“Cute.” My jaw tightened. “Like I’m a four-year-old showing him my finger painting instead of a marketing strategy that could triple our user base.” Honestly, my boss could go fuck himself.
“You need to get out of there.” Katy reached for her water glass, her wedding ring catching the light. “Which brings me to my brilliant idea.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“If it involves Aunt Margot and Voss Watches, then no.” I put down my fork. The dull scrape of cutlery against porcelain grated on my nerves. “We’ve been through this.” And we had. A million times. My answer was always the same.
Katy’s expression took on that particular brand of impatience she’d perfected since having her twins. “Pops, she needs help. The company needs help. And you need a job where you’re actually appreciated.”
“I love my job. Today was just a hiccup.”
“You do not love your job, you love the work. You love coming up with ideas and problem-solving. There’s a difference.
” Katy tucked a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, the same shade as mine but cut shorter and more practical these days.
If I looked closely, I’d still be able to see the indent from the nose ring she got when she was 19.
She had the energy of someone who’d spent the morning negotiating with toddlers over whether socks were mandatory, which meant my career crisis barely registered on her scale of things worth getting worked up about.
“Look, I know you think Margot likes me better because I pop out babies and remember to call on her birthday, but that’s bullshit and you know it.”
I winced at her bluntness. “She literally sent you a Hermès scarf for Christmas. I got a gift card.”
“Because she doesn’t know what to buy you!
You’re like this enigma to her. Brilliant, independent, always keeping your distance.
” Katy’s tone shifted. “You were a little unhinged for a while, but you’ve dialled that right back.
You’ve worked things out. You’re more stable, and she knows that.
I also know she’s drowning. I had lunch with her last week, and she was really stressed.
She never wanted to run the business, and now she’s talking about selling. ”
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. My knee jiggled under the table. “Selling? To who?”
“I don’t know, but likely a conglomerate.
They’d gut it, keep the name for prestige, and move production overseas.
The brand and quality would be sold down the river.
” Katy’s eyes searched mine. “Everything our grandma built, everything Mum maintained.” She snapped her fingers. “Gone. In an instant.”
Something caught in my throat. Voss Watches wasn’t just a company. It had paid for our education, our childhood home, every opportunity we’d ever had. But it had also demanded everything in return. Late nights, absent parents, a marriage breakdown, and eventually...
“It killed them, Katy.” My voice came out smaller than I intended. “Mum was 56. Grandma was 66. I’m nearly 30. If I take this on, it means I only have a few decades left, give or take.”
“Gran got cancer. Mum had an aneurysm. I’ve watched enough Grey’s to know they happen all the time. It’s just a mix of bad luck, bad habits, and no work-life balance.” Katy reached across the table, covering my hand with hers.
“You could do it differently. You don’t have to live to work.
You could work to live. Promote a different culture in the company.
Value your employees, like Mum and Gran did.
Make money, give it away, be a force for good.
Keep Voss in the family for my girls, maybe, if they want it someday. Or any future children you have.”
I turned my hand palm-up, squeezing her fingers. The familiar weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders like a coat I’d avoided trying on, knowing it would fit perfectly.
Maybe it was time to stop running.
“Just meet with her,” Katy pressed, sensing the crack in my armour. “Ask about her plans. You don’t have to commit to anything.”
I pulled my hand back, wrapping both around my coffee cup. It was barely warm anymore. “And say what? ‘Hi, Aunt Margot, I know I’ve spent the last decade avoiding anything to do with my family and Voss Watches, but I hear you’re struggling, so I thought I’d swoop in and save the day’?”
“You could try being honest. Tell her you’re thinking about a career change.
That you’re interested in learning more about the business.
That you have some solid business experience to bring, as well as your MBA.
” Katy glanced at her phone as it buzzed on the table. “She’d probably cry with relief.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I managed a weak smile. “I can handle disappointing my boss. But Margot crying...”
“Would be harder because you actually care about her, despite pretending otherwise.” Katy’s phone buzzed again, more insistently. She frowned at the screen. “Damn. That’s the nursery.”
“Everything okay?”
“Probably just Lily refusing to nap again. But I should call them back.” She paused. “Promise me you’ll think about it?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. The idea of taking over the company terrified me, but the thought of it being sold to strangers made my chest tight with something that felt dangerously like grief.
Katy glanced over my shoulder, then beamed. “Look who’s walking up behind you.”
I turned, and saw Sage Morrison making her way towards our table.
Her flowing skirt swished around her ankles, and the silver jewellery she always wore caught the light, glinting with each step.
We’d known each other since university, though her career had taken some left-field turns since our business school days.
“What a nice surprise to get both sisters in one place.” Sage greeted us with a warm smile, her voice carrying that calmness that always made people trust her instantly.
Before I could respond, Katy’s phone rang, the vibration loud against the table.
She glanced at the screen, and grimaced as she answered.
“Yes, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she promised, her voice clipped.
Hanging up, she sighed and stood, then grabbed her bag.
“Lily’s thrown up on the teaching assistant. I really have to go.”
Katy leaned over to kiss my cheek, then reached for Sage’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze.
“Sorry I can’t stay to chat, but thank you for last week. Same time next month?” She paused, looking between us. “Take care of my sister, please. She’s having an existential crisis. You might be just the right person in this moment.”
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. “I’m really not having that,” I started to protest, but Katy was already halfway to the door, her brilliant-white trainers squeaking against the black-and-white tiles as she hurried out.
Sage slid gracefully into the chair Katy had vacated, then flagged down a passing waiter to order a coffee. She turned to me, her dark eyes filled with an unsettling mix of curiosity and understanding. “So. An existential crisis?”
“Career crossroads,” I corrected, trying to ignore how her presence made the air feel sharp and charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm.
“And why is my sister seeing you again next month?” I hadn’t realised Sage and Katy even knew each other that well, let alone that they were meeting regularly.
“We ran into each other at a wellness day I was doing.” Sage’s tone was casual, but there was something deeper in her words.
“You’ve got quite a distinctive surname, and I think we met once or twice when she visited you at uni.
We got chatting about my gift, and I mentioned that I was picking up a lot of… activity around her.”
“Activity?” I asked, even though I already had an idea where this was going.
“Spirit activity.”
Right.
Along with being a healer and a crystal expert, Sage was also a medium. A good one, apparently, if all my friends were to be believed. I didn’t necessarily buy into the idea of a chatty afterlife, but if it brought people comfort, who was I to judge? Until, of course, it involved my sister.
“Katy has been seeing you for your medium service?” I kept my tone as neutral as possible.
Sage took a moment before answering. “You should talk to her, but… yes.”
There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I swallowed them down. Sage wouldn’t tell me anything before Katy did. I knew the drill.
Instead, I shifted the subject. “Katy thinks I should join the family business.”
“Ah.” Sage tilted her head. “And you’re resistant.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Family always is. Plus, when you were at university, you never wanted to join the company. I remember that well. ABV you once told me.”
I pulled my gaze from her, shame washing over me. Anywhere But Voss: ABV. That had been my mantra at business school when I was feeling particularly aggrieved with Mum. Now I saw it for what it was: childish and petty. But I couldn’t take it back.
The waiter returned with Sage’s coffee, and she poured milk from a tiny jug, her rings clinking softly against the white porcelain cup. Then, after a brief pause, she added: “Speaking of family…”
My stomach flipped. I’d run into Sage a few years ago at a conference, and during an unplanned chat at the hotel bar, she’d casually mentioned things about my grandfather. Things she couldn’t have possibly known. She’d said he was there with us that night. I hadn’t known what to make of it.
“I’m getting some pretty insistent visitors around you.” Sage’s voice dropped to an ultra-calm tone. “Would you be open to hearing from them?”
A shiver ran down my spine, even though it was a bright April London day. I sat up straighter, glancing around. “Here? Now?”
She nodded.
Before I could think better of it, I found myself nodding too. Maybe it was the weight of the conversation with Katy, or maybe it was Sage’s voice, soothing and steady. Either way, my usual scepticism decided to take the afternoon off.
“I’ve got two women with me. I should tell you I can never see faces clearly.” Sage’s voice shifted, and I shivered again. “One is carrying a blue pen. The other is quite a bit older.”
Her words hit me like a jolt of electricity. Montblanc was my mum’s favourite pen brand, and it was pretty fancy. Her favourite pen was blue. The other woman had to be my gran.
Every part of my skin prickled. I’d expected to feel uncomfortable or angry, but instead, a strange, unexpected comfort settled over me like a blanket.
“The woman with the pen…” Sage paused, her brow furrowed. “She wants you to know she’s sorry. Deeply sorry for not being there. For all the times work came first.”
I swallowed hard, and I took a sip of my now-cold coffee to give myself a moment. I was not going to fall apart here.
“She’s showing me a program from a play,” Sage continued, eyes closed, and tilting her head as though listening to something. “Something to do with Christmas? Maybe a pantomime? Does that make any sense?”
“It does,” I replied. “I was the narrator in the school panto when I was 11. Mum was meant to be there, but she got held up in Switzerland meeting suppliers. Dad came, and he brought the program home for her.”
When Mum got home after that, they’d had an almighty row, and the next week, Dad left for good, hardly ever to be seen again.
He lived in Thailand now with his new family, and kept in touch sporadically.
I was amazed that of all the things Mum had in the afterlife, that program had made it. I would have shredded it by now.
Sage nodded slowly. “She sees it all differently now. The choices she made.” Her eyes flicked back to me, sharp and clear. “The other woman.” She frowned. “I don’t know if this means anything, but she’s talking about scones?”
I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Gran made the best scones.”
“The recipe,” Sage said suddenly. “She says it’s in the loft in the big photo box. You’ve been looking for it?”
My coffee cup rattled against the saucer as I set it down too fast. I’d been looking for that recipe just last month, when I’d cleaned out some old boxes. I hadn’t told a soul. I knew it more or less, but wanted my gran’s exact measurements.
“They want you to know,” Sage continued gently, “that whatever you decide about your future, they support you.” She hesitated, her head tilting again, as if catching the last whisper of something.
“But they’re worried about another woman in your family.
They’re saying you should support each other. ”
“I can’t.” I shook my head. “I don’t know how to run the company.”
“They’re showing me someone.” Sage frowned. “Someone from your past who could help. A woman with blonde hair. There’s something unfinished there.”
My mind raced, trying to piece together who they could mean. A woman from my past? I’d been so wrapped up in my startup life, I’d let most of my old connections fade. Blonde hair. It was a vague description. I knew many blonde women. Some of them might never want to talk to me again.
Sage blinked a few times, her shoulders relaxing, as if releasing a weight. “They’re stepping back now,” she said quietly, “but they want you to know they’re proud of you.”
A mix of sadness and elation slipped through me.
“Even though I’ve been avoiding the family legacy like it’s contagious?” I tried to make a joke, but my voice cracked.
“Especially because of that,” Sage replied, her gaze steady. “It shows you understand its weight.”
She wasn’t wrong. I’d spent my whole life learning from my grandmother and Mother. I knew the principles of the business, the suppliers, the factories. Whatever I didn’t know, I could learn. I’d just never wanted to consider it before.
But maybe now was the time.