Chapter 9 #2
“How was your day?” she finally asked. “Did your mum have a good birthday?”
“I think she had fun.”
“High tea, huh?”
“Your sisters were there too.”
Regret kneaded that she hadn’t been there too. Once upon a time, she liked nothing more than having high tea with her mum and sisters. And while she’d visited many high tea venues across the city, few possessed the charm of The Silver Teapot Café. Maybe because she could always feel the love there.
Oh, it would’ve been so much nicer to be there than at the sleek city bistro that felt pretentious and impersonal.
“So, how do you think tonight went?”
She winced. “I think we can count Neil out as a potential investor,” she said, before admitting what had happened, to Jordan’s shock and anger.
“Are you serious? How dare he? Want me to yell at him?”
“I think I did an okay job at telling him what I thought.”
“Good.” He huffed out a breath. “What kind of guy does that?”
“Apparently a pretty rich one.”
“Wow. I have to admit I wasn’t really expecting that of him. Eric Churchill, yes. But not Neil.”
Offence flared. “Why would you say that about Eric?”
“Because he doesn’t seem to be the sort of man who gives a favour without expecting something in return.”
“How can you say that after meeting him for five minutes?”
“Mmm, by the time we finished, it was closer to an hour.”
Much as she was tempted to remain offended, another part of her was desperate to know more. “What happened after I left?”
He exhaled. “He and Gwen both gave me a not-too-subtle grilling about you and what my plans were with the app.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I think they both wanted to know if I have a stake in it, and if so, what that means.”
“You do have a stake,” she said. He owned twenty percent of Woodhouse-Knightley, while she had fifty. Smaller investors rounded out the rest.
“I know. But I got the feeling that they would like me to not be so heavily involved, that they’d much rather deal with just you.”
It was a little mortifying to think that Jordan had better insights into these people after an hour than she had after weeks. “Well, too bad. I want you involved.”
“I think after tonight I want to be involved too.”
She closed her eyes, grateful for his support. Yet again. “I’m so glad you came. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll confess that Neil was not the man I thought him. I thought he was gentle, but he obviously is a little more arrogant than first impressions suggest.”
“You don’t need to worry about him,” Jordan said. “I suspect he wants to boost his ego by attaching himself to you, an up-and-coming entrepreneur, and if you won’t play, then he’ll find someone else.”
Ouch. Was it wrong to be newly offended by this remark? Not that she wanted to be the object of Neil’s affections, but to think she could be replaced so easily felt a little humiliating.
“But this Churchill character, he’s a different type.”
“How so?”
“Elton is clumsy—anyone can see that. But Churchill is like a fox—he’s sly. And I think he is genuinely interested in the app.”
The earlier sense of trepidation faded as excitement ballooned inside. “Really?”
“Mm. But you need to stand firm about what you want it to be about. He and Gwen kept pushing for it to lose the Christian elements.”
“They kept doing so, even after I’d gone?”
“Yeah. And that’s why I think you need to be cautious in dealing with them. We don’t know why they are acting that way. So it’s important to tread carefully.”
His words dug past her offence, and she forced herself to breathe steadily. Okay, so maybe there was some wisdom in what he was saying. She’d sensed it before with the way that Gwen had always rushed invitations and appointments.
“Look, I’m trying to be wise about this, which is why I wanted you there, so thank you.”
“Of course. That’s what friends are for.”
She smiled, as memories flickered of times when they used to sing that eighties song at family and church talent shows back in high school days. Almost like putting a seal on stamping out any speculation that they were more than friends. A bit like she had done tonight.
“So, uh, what does this week hold for you?” she asked him.
As she stroked Charlie, Jordan told her a bit about the latest happenings at Donwell, and she paid much closer attention than the last few times.
“So Lionel is struggling, huh?” Was it unchristian of her to be glad that the man who coasted off other people’s hard work was finally having to pay the piper? Probably. Oh well.
“You don’t need to sound so glad about it. Especially when it means I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces he keeps missing.”
“Oh. Well, that is bad. I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “It’s not the same as when you were there—”
She opened her mouth to remind him he’d encouraged her to quit.
“—but I think it’s good, because it’s proving to Dean, yet again, how much load you actually carried.”
His words, far from being a reprimand, only proved how much he encouraged her. God bless him.
“So I suspect Dean is rethinking how much responsibility he’s given to the undeserving,” Jordan concluded.
“And that perhaps some others are due a little more responsibility?” she suggested.
“Maybe.”
A cruise ship’s lights snagged her attention as it slowly drifted past. “Are you sure you don’t want to come work for Dream Match?”
“Do you miss me that much?”
“You know I value your steady head.”
There was a pause for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. “That’s me. Steady head.”
“I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”
“It’s okay. I know exactly what you mean.” He made a noise halfway between a sigh and a yawn. “Look, it’s getting late. I’m glad you’re okay, but I need to go.”
“Thanks again for coming in tonight. I really, truly appreciate you.”
Another moment lengthened into two beats, three beats, four.
“EJ, do you ever think—?” He coughed. “No, forget it.”
“Forget what?” she asked, curious.
Another couple of seconds passed before he chuckled. “I see what you did there.”
Huh? It wasn’t a joke.
“I need to go. Talk again soon. Have a good sleep, EJ.”
“You too,” she murmured. “Sweet dreams.”
The call ended, and she was left looking at the phone, at the image taken last year of Jordan and her looking intently at the camera, like they were models for fashion week. Serious, yet also not.
A little like how Jordan had sounded. Serious, then not.
What had he been about to ask? She wished she knew. He’d really gone above and beyond tonight, and she truly was appreciative.
She yawned and suddenly realised she had an early start tomorrow too. She needed to sleep.
But then couldn’t, as the events of the past six hours rolled through her mind.