Chapter 27
27
DEAN WALKER’S APARTMENT, DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN
Her brother was still looking at the product like it might explode in his hands as Oliver talked to him about something he’d found out on the electronics grapevine to do with one of the components they had used. Hayley felt bad for making Oliver lie and for getting Dean hot under the collar about the apparent failure of his baby. But the alternative was to try and explain what the billionaire was doing in the apartment with her. The two men were huddled over the Globe on the breakfast bar, Dean talking and swiping and Oliver looking back to her every now and then for a get-out.
‘Did you know, Vernon’s meatball recipe has been in his family for six generations,’ Angel said, appearing at Hayley’s elbow, a bowl of ice cream in her hands.
‘I didn’t know that,’ she replied, her eyes still on Oliver.
‘I know there’s nothing wrong with the Globe,’ Angel said, digging her spoon into the dessert and pushing the food into her mouth.
Hayley turned to Angel. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘There are shortbread biscuits on the coffee table,’ Angel said through a mouthful .
Hayley looked to the table. The half-empty coffee pot, the glass of water, the biscuits. Did the scene have incrimination written all over it?
‘He’s Uncle Dean’s boss. What was I supposed to give him when he turned up here? Leftover pizza?’
‘Billionaires don’t just turn up at people’s houses,’ Angel continued. ‘They make appointments in work time.’
‘How many billionaires do you actually know that you’re basing that judgement on?’ Hayley put her hands on her hips.
‘I know what’s going on,’ Angel stated loudly.
Hayley watched Oliver glance over his shoulder and away from Dean’s dissection of the tablet. Her heart was hammering now. She wasn’t that transparent, was she? She made certain the zipper on her onesie was up to her neckline.
‘You got him to come over here and you’re going to ask him for a job,’ Angel said, finishing the sentence off with a firm nod.
‘I have a job,’ she reminded, in a whisper.
‘You think? After the way we were almost ordered to leave that house today?’
Hayley let out a sigh. She hadn’t heard anything from Majestic Cleaning and she didn’t dare call. She shrugged. ‘It will blow over.’
‘Are you crazy? The woman looked like she wanted to kill us and the housekeeper screamed like she was in a horror movie.’
‘Which you are not old enough to watch.’
‘Biscuits never lie,’ Angel said, looking triumphant.
She held her hands up. ‘OK, you got me, I wanted to ask him for a job.’
Angel’s eyes grew big. ‘And?’
‘And you and Uncle Dean burst in and I didn’t get the chance.’
‘So there’s nothing wrong with the Globe?’
‘No… I mean yes… I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t say that.’
Angel’s eyes misted over and she slumped down onto the sofa, ice cream spoon still in her hand. ‘I really wanted that lady to like what we’d done to her room today.’
Hayley moved, plumping down next to Angel and taking the spoon from her. ‘Yeah, me too.’ She dug into the ice cream and ate a mouthful.
‘I thought it looked beautiful. It was warm and inviting, the fire was cosy and the lights made her photographs stand out,’ Angel continued, grabbing back the spoon.
‘We did a great job. It just wasn’t to her taste, that’s all.’
‘And you’re probably going to get fired because of me,’ Angel added, looking glum.
Hayley shook her head. ‘No, not because of you, because of me.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. I shouldn’t be working here. I don’t have the right paperwork and this is supposed to be a family holiday. I should be making the most of not working and spending every second with you.’ She put an arm around Angel and drew her close.
‘But what about money?’
Hayley shrugged. ‘We’ll work something out.’
Angel moved slightly, turning her head to look at her. ‘So no more mopping and silly outfits?’
‘No more mopping and no more Agatha. Now go and get another spoon for this ice cream. You can’t possibly eat it all yourself.’
‘I think Dean would have had me stay here all night taking it to pieces with him.’ Oliver smiled as Hayley showed him down the stairs to the front door of the apartment. He felt almost human again after water and coffee and the bathroom visit that lost him half his body weight .
‘I’m so sorry. I couldn’t think of anything else to say.’ She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and put her hand to the gold latch. ‘He’s not going to rip it all apart and start again, is he? I don’t want to be responsible for the crumbling of an empire.’
‘I’ve put his mind at rest, I think. Said I wasn’t sure of the model number. He’ll probably Google it.’
‘Or Globe it.’
‘Voyage it, actually. That’s the name of our search engine.’
‘I like it.’ She nodded. ‘All about the journey and no connotation of wild animals.’
He looked quizzical.
‘Safari?’
Oliver smiled then. Her eyes were shining as she looked back at him, dewy, alive. ‘Can I take you out somewhere?’
She didn’t reply and he realised he was holding his breath and his stance. He was almost bracing himself for the negative response.
‘I made you stand there for half an hour getting fictitious about a piece of equipment and you want to take me out somewhere?’
‘I came round here drunk and behaved badly. Let me make it up to you.’ He swallowed, then reached for her hand. He turned it over and gently stroked her palm with his fingers. He couldn’t remember the last time he had stroked a woman’s hand this way.
She nodded, smiling. ‘OK.’
‘OK?’ He shocked himself by how surprised he sounded. She’d said yes. ‘Well, what do you want to do?’
He felt her squeeze his hand.
‘No more wishes. You decide,’ she replied.
‘Are you sure about that? I don’t want to take you out somewhere and have you disappointed.’ In truth, he was playing for time, his brain desperately wondering where he could take her, what he could do, how to make the best possible impression .
‘I’m sure, Superman.’ She rose up on her tip-toes and planted the lightest of kisses on his lips. She let go of his hand and backed up the first step.
‘Well, shall I call you? I don’t have your number.’ He reached into the pocket of his trousers and drew out his cell phone.
‘Ready?’ she asked.
‘Hold up just a second.’ He tapped at the screen.
‘077026 415798.’ She turned away and headed back up the steps.
‘What? Was that seven nine eight or seven eight nine?’ he called.
‘Bye, Clark.’ She stopped walking and turned back. ‘By the way, Angel loved the Christmas tree in your lobby.’