Chapter 20
JOHN
Turns out Olivia and I were both right.
Or both wrong.
It was a relaxing blow job. And I should have stayed the hell away from her because I am not in the right frame of mind for this meeting at all.
I managed to get us to Merrick’s house in Chipping Campden without getting into an accident, but we’re five minutes late.
I’m never late. For anything. Ever. This is a disaster.
Olivia touches my hand as I turn off the car engine. “I’ll tell him it’s my fault we’re late.”
“It is your fault we’re late.”
“It weren’t my fault ya took so bloody long tuh come in me mouth, guvnah,” she says in some horrible Eliza Doolittle accent as she opens the passenger door.
“Could you please refrain from the cock talk while we’re here?” I stage whisper.
“Here in the Cotswolds, or here at this house?” She blinks innocently.
“In public, anywhere on the planet.”
She purses her lips and then says, “I honestly don’t think I can, no.”
“Just so we’re clear, I was thinking more along the lines of Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday or Sabrina, not Dr. Doolittle.”
“Bahhhaahaaaa! Oy think ya mean My Fair Lady, not Dr. Doolittle, guvnah!”
“Whatever.” I grab my briefcase from the back seat and lock the car doors. Then I look around this idyllic, quaint little road and wonder if it’s considered rude and in bad form to lock my car doors here. So I unlock the doors. And then I lock them again because this is a rental.
I will say that Olivia did a fine job of dressing like a young Audrey Hepburn, though. She also did a fantastic job of the other kind, but I’m not going to think about that right now. She’s smiling as primly as I think she’s capable of smiling as she holds her hand out to me.
“He said he’d be in his garden and we should just go through the gate,” I tell her.
“Audrey Hepburn trained as a ballet dancer, you know,” Olivia says, excited to share this trivia with me.
“That’s nice, dear.”
This would be considered a cottage, I suppose, but it’s a good-sized home.
Merrick has made a fortune from licensing, so he could afford something much more luxurious, but I get why he doesn’t want to leave this place.
It’s so quiet and lovely. Birds chirping, bees buzzing, butterflies flitting about.
Olivia squeezes my hand and hops up and down when she spots a bunny rabbit by a hedge.
We walk hand in hand through a garden gate and down a lawn path that’s bordered with dense rows of flowers and shrubs along both sides.
I have the strangest flash of an image of us walking down an aisle together and glance over at Olivia, who looks over at me at the same time.
She looks sad again. Or possibly peckish.
I spot Merrick up ahead, near a table with four chairs, under the shade of a big tree.
He’s fussing with leaves on a shrub, wearing a sun hat, linen shirt, and long khaki shorts with socks and rubber shoes.
When he turns to wave at us, I expect him to say, Welcome…
to Jurassic Park. He’s younger than Dr. Hammond, but that’s who Merrick reminds me of.
I raise the hand that’s holding Olivia’s and say, “Mr. Merrick. So sorry we’re late.”
“It’s all my fault,” Olivia exclaims. “I lost track of time.”
“Traffic was insane,” I joke and then make a sort of choking sound that was meant to be a jocular laugh. I don’t know why this man makes me so nervous or why I care so much about making a good impression. But I do. “I’m kidding. It was all her fault.”
“I’m very glad you could make it,” he says, wiping his hands on his shirt and walking over to shake my hand. “Thank you for coming all the way out here, John.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure, sir. We’re on vacation for a bit anyway.”
“Ah, yes,” he says, turning his attention to Olivia.
She curtsies, and again, I make that unfortunate choking sound.
“Mr. Merrick, this is my girlfriend, Olivia Montgomery, of the Bay Area Ballet Company.”
He offers his hand to Olivia, and they shake.
“It’s so nice to meet you, sir. This is such a beautiful garden. Do you take care of it all by yourself?”
“I do, yes. Always have. Always plan to, until they bury me in it.”
I make the choking sound again.
Olivia steps closer to me and rubs my back. “You okay, honey?”
“Yep. You?”
“Yes. I’m not the one who forgot to hydrate,” she says, forcing a smile.
“I didn’t forget, my darling. I know how to drink water when I’m thirsty.”
Well. We certainly sound like a real couple. An old married one, I think.
Merrick is just standing there, squinting as he studies us. It’s awkward. Finally, he says, “Yes, there’s no need for you to be nervous, John Brandt. I see through this little ruse. I appreciate the effort, but I don’t think this is a good fit.”
I can’t tell if he’s referring to himself and my company or to me and Olivia, and I’m not sure which would be worse. “We may be opposites,” I say tentatively, “but we definitely—”
“I hope you don’t take offense, my dear,” he says to Olivia. “You’re a lovely girl.” He turns to me. “But what kind of absent-minded professor do you take me for?”
“Sir?”
“Awfully convenient. This new ballerina girlfriend who suddenly appeared in your Instagram posts soon after you learned I have a granddaughter who yearns to become a ballerina…”
I wish I wasn’t so pleased to find out that George Merrick has looked at my Instagram profile, but I’m really stoked.
Even though—shit.
This is not good.
“The purpose of this meeting was for me to assess your character, John,” he continues. “I thought I made it clear that I won’t commit to any company if I can’t trust that the billionaire behind it isn’t honest and ethical. I think I’ve seen enough.”
He’s right. He’s a genius. I should have known I couldn’t fool him. “You’re right,” I start to admit.
“Yes.” Olivia steps in, cutting me off. “We must have appeared to be a bit stilted in the way we spoke with each other, but it’s because I really did make us late.
He was nervous about meeting you, so I…played ye olde skin flute to try to get him to relax.
And now he’s mad at me because he doesn’t like to be late.
He’s never late. I know this because I’ve known him my entire life. ”
Merrick’s still squinting at her as he assesses, but he’s definitely open to this explanation.
I’m already planning to call Sanjay to get us on an earlier flight to New York and kissing my investment goodbye, though, because I don’t recall Audrey Hepburn saying the words ye olde skin flute in any of her films.
“He used to get up before anyone else when he stayed over at my house,” she continues. “He’s been my brother’s best friend forever, you see. My mom would go down to the kitchen to make breakfast and scream because she’d find him doing his homework on his laptop in the dark. On a Sunday morning.”
“Brother’s best friend, eh?” Merrick strokes the white stubble on his chin, looking at me.
“Yeah, Monty’s my oldest and best friend. Olivia and I did happen to reconnect very recently. I can certainly see why you’d be suspicious.”
She weaves her fingers with mine, leaning into me.
After a beat, Merrick pats me on the arm. “Forgive me. My wife makes me watch so many romantic comedies when she’s home, I see plots everywhere. Fake relationships happen to be a favorite.”
I have to hold my breath to prevent myself from breathing a loud sigh of relief or making a weird choking sound.
“Tell me about it!” Olivia says, although I know she’s struggling to come up with the name of a fake-relationship romantic comedy and she’s drawing a blank because Baryshnikov never starred in one.
We sit down for tea, little sandwiches, and scones with clotted cream and homemade strawberry jam. When I pull out my iPad to show Merrick photos from the vertical farm in London, he looks past me and says, “Ahhh, there she is. Gertrude dropped you off, did she?”
Olivia and I turn to find Merrick’s granddaughter walking toward us, wearing a pink leotard, tutu, and flip-flops. “Yeah. Are there any scones left for me?”
“No, I ate every last one,” he says, teasing her.
“Grandad!”
“Ginny, say hello to our guests, John and Olivia.”
“Hullo,” she says. Her face lights up when she sees Olivia. “Oh, are you the real ballerina?!”
“I am! It’s so nice to meet you. Did you just come from a ballet class?”
Ginny frowns, nodding. “Yeah. It’s a shit class, though. Teacher’s a twat.”
“Ginny,” Merrick scolds her while spreading cream and jam onto a scone for her.
“She is! She’s very mean.”
“I’ve had a mean ballet teacher or two,” Olivia says. “I still learned a lot from them, though.”
I wish I knew what to say to this little girl, but I’m not good at talking to children, and I’d probably just start choking again.
She takes a huge bite of scone and says to Olivia, “Grandad made me a ballet studio—wanna see?!”
“I would love to!” Olivia stands up and wipes her fingers on a napkin. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” She gives me a little wink as she holds her hand out to take Ginny’s.
“John and I will go for a stroll around the garden,” Merrick tells Olivia. “Don’t let my granddaughter keep you too long now. She has to make me dinner.”
“Ha ha!” Ginny says, leading Olivia toward a glasshouse near the edge of the property.
Merrick groans as he pushes himself up out of his chair. “That right there is why I won’t live in London, Mr. Brandt.”
“Understood. As I’ve told you before, we’d only ask you to visit the site in London once a month, and if you’d care to visit Amsterdam too, we’d be grateful.” I reach for my briefcase.
“Leave that there, my boy. The rabbits won’t steal it. But that girl of yours… Don’t let that one go. Life is long, and success is empty without someone to share it with.”
“I have every intention of hanging on to her, sir.”
“Good, good. You remind me of a young man I mentored at Oxford: Brilliant mind. Burnt out by the age of thirty-five,” he says.
“I won’t waste my precious time working with people who are on that path.
I would have gone down that path myself if it weren’t for my wife.
” He taps me on the arm as we stroll toward a vegetable garden.
“I can tell you think I’m the key to everything.
The missing piece. Meanwhile, that girl looks at you like you hung the moon. Why are you pretending not to notice?”
“I…” I have no idea what to say to that. I’m not pretending not to notice; I can’t say that I have noticed.
“Listen, I’ve got nothing against bachelors or single people—don’t get me wrong. But a man who’s in love with a good woman, one who treats him right, tends to make better long-term decisions.”
“I actually had the idea for my start-up because of Olivia,” I say.
“Is that so? Tell me more.”