Chapter 20 #2
Despite never having set eyes on the woman, Giselle knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was Claire. And she was stunning. She was also heading this way.
When the door opened and the woman stepped inside, Giselle could hear Cal talking about cold facts and figures that had nothing in common with any of the wonderful things in the shop.
She understood it was a business, but did it have to sound so dry?
Hard work, talent and dedication had been reduced to little more than markups and percentages.
Claire’s face gave nothing away, but her eyes were everywhere, taking it all in.
Cal said, ‘Hi, Jinny. This is Claire Wallace. She’s doing an initial assessment and valuation of the castle. Jinny is our gift shop’s very successful manager.’
Claire gave Jinny a nod and a professional smile, but that was the sum of her attention because she was too busy assessing the contents of the shop.
She hadn’t noticed Giselle, or if she had, she didn’t think her important enough to acknowledge, so Giselle took the opportunity to do some noticing of her own.
High heels, smart suit, glowing skin, brown eyes, glossy dark hair, red lips – Claire was the polar opposite to Giselle in appearance. She also reeked of expensive perfume, confidence and money.
An image of Rocco at Mhairi’s funeral flashed into Giselle’s mind, and abruptly she envisaged Rocco and Claire together, birds of the same feather, flying in the same lofty airspace.
They’d make a perfect couple. No wonder Avril had thought Claire was his girlfriend!
She was far more suited to him than Giselle could ever be.
And they spoke the same corporate language and worked for the same company.
Once again, a sick feeling rose from her stomach to lodge in her chest, and Giselle feared she might throw up. Screwing her eyes shut, she fought the nausea, swallowing hard and concentrating on her breathing.
When she opened them again, it was to find Claire standing in front of the sea glass island picture, her head tilted to the side, her expression thoughtful.
‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ Jinny gushed. ‘Made by this extremely talented lady right here.’
Claire’s head swivelled towards Giselle like a raptor sensing prey, and Giselle found herself the focus of a sweeping, yet comprehensive, assessment.
‘You made this?’ Claire’s voice was sharp, her words clipped, disbelieving almost.
Giselle lifted her chin, her hackles rising. She was proud of her work. ‘Yes, I did.’
The woman held her gaze for a fraction longer than necessary before turning away and speaking to Cal. ‘Let’s move on. I think Rocco will agree that there’s little of any significant value here.’
Cal looked nonplussed. ‘Well, no, I suppose not, since the stock is owned by the artists themselves. The shop takes a commission from each sale.’
For some reason, Giselle didn’t think Claire had been referring to the stock.
Did the woman know that she and Rocco were…
Actually, what were they? Lovers, certainly, but did their relationship go any deeper than that?
For Giselle it did, but she couldn’t say the same for Rocco: she had no idea how he felt about her.
He enjoyed making love with her, that much was obvious, but was that all there was?
Giselle watched Claire leave, Cal trailing behind her after throwing an apologetic look in her direction.
‘Blimey, she’s a piece of work, isn’t she?’ Jinny huffed. ‘I wouldn’t like to have her for a boss. What is she? Some kind of hatchet woman? Little of value, indeed. Huh!’
‘She’s right. There isn’t anything of value to the estate.’
‘I know, but it was the way she said it. All scornful, like.’
‘She’s just doing her job.’ Giselle didn’t know why she was defending the woman, considering she’d taken an instant dislike to her. Or maybe she did know. It wasn’t Claire’s fault that jealousy had risen its head again.
Claire knew Rocco better than she did. Not physically, but physical was only skin deep. Those two had a connection that was outside Giselle’s experience.
Jinny sighed. ‘It’s the uncertainty I can’t handle. Is the craft centre going to close or not? Will Rocco sell it?’
Oh, he was going to sell it all right; Giselle didn’t doubt that for a second. And she wasn’t entirely sure what would hurt the most: saying goodbye to her studio and everything she’d worked so hard for, or saying goodbye to the man she’d fallen in love with.
Rocco checked the time yet again. He thought he was being discreet, but his mother clocked him doing it.
‘Am I keeping you from something?’ she asked archly.
‘There are a few things I’d like to wrap up before we leave.’
‘Would it have anything to do with that girl?’
‘As a matter of fact, it does.’
‘Surely you don’t expect to carry on with this relationship once you return to London. It’s hardly feasible.’
Rocco ran his hand through his hair, exasperated. Until his mother’s arrival, he’d been trying hard not to think about going home, stupidly pretending that things could carry on as they were. But now Beverly was forcing him to make a decision.
However, the problem with her not-so-subtle manipulation was that he might make a decision she didn’t like.
His mother pressed on. ‘You’ve known her, how long? A week? Two?’
‘I’ve known her longer than that. I met her when I went to Venice the summer I dossed around Europe.’
‘That was just after you’d finished university!
’ It surprised her, and he felt a momentary satisfaction.
The feeling swiftly disappeared when she added, ‘You couldn’t have kept in touch, otherwise you wouldn’t only be taking an interest in Skye now.
Therefore, I say again, you’ve known her for two weeks.
People change. Take you, for example: would you say you’re the same person now that you were when you were twenty? ’
He’d been twenty-one, nearly twenty-two, but she had a point. He didn’t know Giselle as well as he wanted, but he was thoroughly enjoying getting to know her. Or he had been, until his mother had brought him down to earth.
He had to face facts: staying on Skye wasn’t an option.
It was simply too difficult to travel to and from London.
He needed to be there, not all the time, but a lot of the time.
Distance working was possible, but much of what he did was networking and making contacts.
Moore Asset Management’s clients liked the personal touch, not a face on a screen.
His life was there. Giselle’s was here. And tonight would be the last time he’d hold her. When he left tomorrow, it would be for good, because it would be too painful to leave her for a second time.