Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
T he next morning, Sunday, dawned with me turning over in my head what I was going to say to Zach Stern about Ezra/Joshua.
Oh God. All this had sounded far better yesterday but now that I was giving it much greater thought, my confidence in my “plan” was beginning to droop like my tea roses if I forgot to water them.
I gave my head a mental shake. No. This could work. It had to. It would. We just had to convince ourselves it would and then Zach would believe it as well … wouldn’t he?
I showered, washed my hair, slipped on my dark brown polo neck and dark brown jeans and popped two slices of bread into my toaster for breakfast.
I had to sound convincing when I told him about what I believed was “mistaken identity” where Ezra was concerned. Zach didn’t strike me as gullible, so it was imperative I make this convincing.
I poured some milk into my tea and glanced out of my kitchen window at the wind-whipped hills over in the distance. Talk about playing with fire.
* * *
Monday zoomed up to greet me.
I’d tried to call Zach yesterday, but his phone was switched off. Desperation had raced through me. Although Zach hadn’t rumbled who I really was, the longer he was here in Heather Moore, the greater his chances of making that discovery. The sooner we could get shot of him, the better. Frustration swelled inside me when he didn’t answer. So much for putting my cunning plan into action.
I’d set off earlier this morning for the flower market and was back, armed with an array of shiny new plants and flowers in a festive array of rubies, pillar-box reds and oranges.
I opened up the shop and was just sipping a mug of tea when I heard two murmuring female voices outside the shop door.
Wow. Some people were keen for a Monday morning in November!
Curious as to who they might be, I stole a look out of one of the shop windows.
Two young women, who both looked around my age, were huddled in their winter coats. They kept staring into Flower Power and shuffling from foot to foot as they talked to each other. One had a blocky fringe and waist-length straight brown hair, while the other was a shoulder-skimming strawberry blonde.
I angled my head as I drank my tea. Were they anxious brides, keen to book my floristry services? Or perhaps they were hospitality employees, here to talk to me about an upcoming event?
I tried not to dwell on the suspicious voice in my head. I couldn’t keep hiding every time a new face appeared in Heather Moore. Bloody Zach Stern! He was making me jump at shadows.
I examined the two young women again.
Refusing to think more negative thoughts, I returned to the counter, just as the bell on the shop door rattled to warn me they were on their way in. An icy blast of air shot in from the hillsides as they entered.
“Can I help you?”
The strawberry blonde gave her companion a sideways glance. “Sorry to bother you, but we’re looking for Bailey McArthur.”
I hesitated. Who were they and what did they want?
Well, I wouldn’t find out standing here, gazing at them. “Can I ask why?”
It was the turn of the dark-haired woman to speak. She glanced around herself. “It’s a bit, well, delicate.”
I frowned.
“Are you Ms McArthur?” asked the blonde woman, squinting at me. They both possessed cut-glass English accents.
I could feel myself hurriedly erecting that wall of protection again. “Are you journalists?”
They swapped confused looks. “No. Why?”
I hesitated before I answered. “I’m Bailey.” I pursed my lips in thought. “What’s this about?”
The strawberry blonde was apologetic and glanced around her. “Is there somewhere we could talk more privately?”
“We won’t take up much of your time,” assured her friend. “Please, Ms McArthur.”
“More privately than this?” I gestured to the empty shop.
They shuffled awkwardly, still looking frozen by the chill wind and I was glad my parents had insisted I have a panic button installed under the shop counter, just in case of armed robbery.
Even so, I’d have been surprised if they’d suddenly morphed into raging criminals.
The women drank in the sight of the frilly petals, sprouting leaves and trumpeting blooms.
“This is lovely,” said the dark-haired woman appreciatively. “Have you been open long?”
“Thank you. Only since May.”
Neither of them had yet introduced themselves. They just stood there in their stylish coats and boots. Going by the way they were appraising me, they weren’t interested in flowers, though. I knew I couldn’t spend my life wondering about every person who came in or happened to pass me in the street or I’d end up an anxious wreck, but I couldn’t deny that these two young women were acting rather weird and exchanging odd glances.
“Sorry, but who are you and why did you want to speak to me?” I hoped I didn’t sound abrupt or rude, but I was becoming unnerved.
The dark-haired woman wrung her hands together in front of her and shot her friend another, somewhat knowing, glance. “It’s all a bit awkward.”
I could feel my eyebrows rising. “Oh?”
“We’re hoping to find someone.”
I blinked back at her and forced a polite smile. “Who is it that you’re looking for?” I asked with apprehension.
“We understand someone high profile was seen coming into your shop recently.”
My senses screeched onto high alert. Ezra. They must be talking about Ezra. Oh no. Not again!
The brunette, dressed in a ruby-coloured belted coat, took a few steps forward in a pair of pointed, black boots. “We’re looking for a gentleman called Ezra King.”
I felt my jaw tighten. I gave a dismissive shrug. “What, the actor? What about him?”
The strawberry-blonde woman hopped from foot to foot.
“I don’t mean to sound rude, but you’re mistaken,” I said, adding a light-hearted smile for good measure.
The delicate-featured strawberry blonde’s hand fluttered up to the burgundy scarf knotted at her throat. “But we were told he’d been seen in Heather Moore, and in this shop in particular?”
“Told by who?”
Her dark-haired companion’s freckly complexion zinged with two spots of colour. “My mother.”
“Your mother?” I repeated, confused.
The blonde hitched her leather bag higher up her shoulder, a smear of embarrassed colour appearing in her cheeks and reached out to squeeze the brunette’s fingers, as though in an act of solidarity.
There was an electrified silence while I tried to work out what was going on.
“This is just as big a shock to both of us as I’m sure it will be for him…,” said the brunette. She straightened her shoulders and took a steadying breath. “But we’ve just discovered we might be Ezra King’s daughters.”
The two women seemed to morph from well-groomed young women into self-conscious adolescents as they stood there.
I blinked at them. Ezra possibly had a family? I didn’t recall ever reading about him having kids in interviews and he’d never mentioned children to me, but I supposed I didn’t know everything about him.
The dark-haired girl gathered herself. “We wondered if you had an address for him or knew where he was staying? We wanted to speak to him.”
If they were telling the truth then Ezra obviously didn’t know about them, otherwise they would have a way of contacting him.
I studied both of their pleading expressions.
But were they genuine? I only had their word for it.
If they were, my heart went out to both of them, standing there in front of a total stranger and speaking about something so life-altering.
I paused. My sympathy was ramping up. It couldn’t have been easy coming here and my curiosity was alight. The dark-haired one said her mother had told them Ezra was here in Heather Moore.
They both looked cold and a little lost. Should I at least hear them out? Give them the benefit of the doubt for the time being? “Come on. Come and have a seat here.”
They both broke into grateful smiles. The strawberry-blonde woman tightened her scarf. “Thanks.”
They trailed along behind me, as I arranged three chairs behind the counter.
They took up seats beside each other and I offered them tea or coffee, but they both declined. I got the impression they were just anxious to get the information they came here for.
I sat down too. I decided to introduce myself again, to break the silence. The dark-haired woman said her name was Caroline Rushmore and indicated to her half-sister. “And I’m Laura Maddox.”
“I’m so sorry we didn’t say who we were before now,” said Caroline in a rush. “It’s all come as such a shock.” She gestured to herself with an elegant hand, adorned with two silver rings. “My mother is Toni Rushmore, the 60s model and actress.”
“And my mum is the author, Jules Maddox.” Laura sat forward a little, planting her hands on her knees.
I watched as Caroline fished about in her bag on her lap and handed me two cream envelopes. Inside, were their birth certificates. They insisted I take a look at them. “Our father isn’t named on them but our mothers are.”
I looked from one to the other. I was no expert but their birth certificates looked genuine. “Yes, I’ve heard of both of your mothers. Of course, I have.”
I folded the certificates back up, slid them into their respective envelopes and handed them back to Caroline. She delivered a hesitant smile. “I’m sorry if we’re putting you in an awkward position, but we just needed somewhere to start.”
I thought of the recognisable images of Toni Rushmore in her heyday, her raven-black bob and panda eyes make-up and the impressive, engrossing moral dilemma novels of the flaxen-haired writer Jules Maddox.
I studied them both. They could still be trying to con me, in the hope of extracting information about Ezra. “So how did you two find one another?”
Laura gave an eyeroll. “That was thanks to social media. I don’t know if you know much about Ezra King’s recent autobiography, but he revealed in it, that he had affairs with both our mothers almost thirty years ago.”
My eyes popped. “Really?”
Laura nodded. “And that was when my mother told me who my real father was. I couldn’t take it in at first.” She gave a small glance at Caroline. “After the initial shock of finding out, I read up about Ezra and stumbled across an Ezra King Appreciation Page on Instagram.”
Caroline chipped in, explaining that she’d made the same discovery after her mum found out she’d been named in Ezra’s autobiography too. “For years, I’d heard rumours that a former MP was being pin-pointed as my real father. Everyone knew Lionel Cavendish was gay and once I got older and heard the same stories, I kept asking her to tell me the truth but she wouldn’t talk about it. I think I knew all along that Lionel wasn’t my dad.”
Her fingers tumbled over each other in her lap. “Lionel was a good friend of my mum’s. He still is. He’s been like an uncle to me, but he isn’t my biological father.”
She scooped a lock of hair back behind her ear. “Laura and I became friends on Insta. We started chatting and then when Laura told me why she was also searching for information on Ezra King, I couldn’t believe it. But it’s such a relief to find someone else in my position…”
Laura nodded in agreement. “I felt so conflicted when I first found out about him, but when Caroline told me she was his daughter too, we both agreed we had to do this.”
Laura shot an encouraging smile of support to her sister beside her. “We’ve both said that we’ll undertake DNA tests to prove for certain that we are his daughters. We’ve nothing to hide.”
I listened to them. They sounded genuine but I couldn’t be sure.
I pushed around thoughts in my head I couldn’t tell them anything. For one thing, I couldn’t betray Ezra and if I did, what would happen if Zach found out? Also, it might not be true – either because Ezra was not their biological father or because they were part of a ploy to get me to reveal where Ezra was.
“So, you’re convinced here’s here in Heather Moore?” I said playing for time. “Because your mum said––“
“Yes,’ Caroline cut in. ‘And one of her friends also said that a while ago he’d been making enquiries about houses in this area. She’s an estate agent to some high-profile people. We put two and two together and…”
Now it was Laura’s turn to speak again. “What with those two women on the Insta page saying they saw Ezra King here in Heather Moore and then hearing that he’d been looking at property here…” Her voice tailed off. Then she carried on. “Look, I wouldn’t blame you for one second if you doubted what we’re telling you, but I swear we’re both genuine.”
These two young women in front of me, bunched up together, reminded me a little of myself. All they wanted was to make contact with the man who could be their real father and find a part of themselves they had every right to discover. I’d been swallowed up by Declan’s obsession with money and deceit and I felt like I too had lost myself along the way, but now perhaps, the air was beginning to clear.
“We’d be more than happy to supply you with our mothers’ details, should you wish to speak to Toni or Jules for yourself, to be certain we’re not making this up,” insisted Caroline.
Laura agreed. “Although, being honest, we’d prefer it if you didn’t contact our mothers. At least not yet.”
“Neither of them knows you’re here?”
Laura pulled a face. “No. They’ve made it clear they’d prefer us not to reach out to Ezra King. They’re both very independent women.”
Caroline sighed in frustration. “We did try to reach out to him via his agent, but no luck. The official line is that he’s been inundated with publicity requests since the book came out and so he’s had to take a hiatus from that side of things for a while.”.
“Ah. I see.” I paused before speaking again. I hated being suspicious like this, but I also wasn’t prepared to betray Ezra’s trust if they weren’t genuine or were out to exploit their connections to him. Thoughts rattled around inside of me. I had to tell them something; but I couldn’t and wouldn’t put Ezra in jeopardy.
“So, he hasn’t been in here, then?” probed Laura.
I found myself crossing my fingers behind my back. “No… But look, why don’t you both give me your contact details and if Ezra King does ever come in here, I’ll be sure to pass them onto him?”
Caroline and Laura forced out disappointed smiles.
“Ok. We’d appreciate that so much. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
I smiled at them in what I hoped was a sympathetic way. There was no harm in me secretly forwarding their details to Ezra, who could take it from there.
Caroline delved with one hand into her Radley bag and handed over a thick, white business card, containing her contact details.
Laura did the same and gave me hers.
“Thank you so much, Bailey. We were fired up about hunting down his address and just turning up on his doorstep, but you’re right. Better to take things one step at a time.” She shrugged. “He hasn’t been our father for almost thirty years, so what’s another few days or so?”
“I understand,” I said. “Sometimes, it’s best to take things slowly.”
Caroline adjusted the collar of her blouse under her thick coat and gave me a long look. “You sound as if you’re talking from experience.”
I half-laughed and walked with them back towards the shop door. “Something like that.” I instantly regretted letting that slip, because Laura pushed her hands into the pockets of her thick beige coat and studied me for a few moments longer than was necessary.
I cleared my throat, almost making her jump.
“Sorry! You must think I’m being rude. It’s just that you seem familiar, somehow. I can’t think where I know you from though.”
My heart juddered. Not again. Was my life going to be like this forever? Living on my wits? Always looking over my shoulder?
Shit! No, stay calm, Bailey.
I flapped my hands about, my growing panic threatening to spill over.
“Oh, I’ve been told that a few times before. As long as it’s someone glamorous, I don’t mind!”
Relief flooded through me when Laura laughed, and let the subject drop.
Determined not to look too suspicious and usher them out quickly, I went for small talk and asked them what they each did for a living.
Caroline worked in public relations for her local council and lived in Cheshire, while Laura was an architect in London. They’d decided to stay in a hotel together about an hour away, they said, until they saw how things progressed with Ezra.
“We’re going to stay around for a few days,” Laura said. “The way we see it, if Ezra isn’t interested, then we haven’t lost anything.”
* * *
Once Caroline and Laura had departed, I debated what I should do.
In the end, I tidied myself up, and then rang Rowan and asked her if she could come in and cover the shop for a couple of hours. She said that was fine with her and that she’d be there in ten minutes.
Once she’d arrived, I snatched up the girls’ business cards containing their contact information and set off for Ezra’s home in my car. The sooner I got this information to Ezra, the better. I drummed my fingers on the top of my steering wheel at the traffic lights as I headed for his place––
This must be the scandal that Zach had alluded to; Ezra fathering two daughters to two different, high-profile women.
The prospect of Zach Stern discovering my car-crash past faded into insignificance at the thought of speaking to Ezra about Caroline and Laura. I mulled over the situation, as I eased my car down the frost-tipped country lanes towards Duxbury Hall. Talk about a bolt out of the blue!
I pushed my foot a little harder down on the accelerator, not taking any notice of the meandering, toffee-coloured Highland cattle in the fields.
I pulled up outside the security gates. My stomach was flipping all over the place. How the hell was I going to tell him? I couldn’t just burst out with it.
Could you imagine? Hi Ezra. How’re things? Oh, there were two young women who turned up to speak to me today and they say they’re your long-lost daughters by two former girlfriends of yours. They’re happy to take DNA tests. Oh, have you started your Christmas shopping yet?!
I hovered for a few moments, before pressing the security intercom.
Jackson answered and we exchanged a couple of pleasantries. “I don’t suppose I could have a word with Ezra, if he’s available please?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
I got back inside my car and watched the gates swish inwards. My heart hammered a little louder in my chest, as I eased down the driveway and parked up.
Ezra was waiting for me. He was sporting a pastel-pink jumper and beige trousers.
I managed to force out a strained smile.
“Everything all right?” he asked, encouraging me inside.
I waited until Jackson vanished.
Ezra beckoned me into his sitting room and took up a seat on the opposite sofa. “You look very serious.”
I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times.
Oh God. How the hell do I get myself into these situations?
I took a breath.
Right. Get on with it.
And so out it came; about Caroline and Laura visiting me; them believing they were Ezra’s daughters and how they came to track him down to Heather Moore.
Ezra’s expression twisted from surprise to shock and then disbelief.
Then he made a noise that sounded like a gasp. “I don’t believe it.” His eyes were troubled. “I mean, I had gorgeous women flirting with me everywhere I went and I couldn’t resist a pretty face, but daughters I’ve never heard of?” He shook his head and looked thoughtful. “Technically, it is possible, I suppose, but…” He looked me directly in the eyes. “No. I’m certain it’s a ruse.”
I shot him a careful look. “Well, they seemed genuine to me.”
Ezra’s brows knitted together. “I know you mean well, my dear. But I’ll bet good money that they’ll have dreamt this up between the two of them… in all likelihood to get money out of me.” He narrowed his eyes, then. “You really shouldn’t have got involved? You’re my friend, or so I thought.”
Now it was my turn to make a wounded sound. His words stung.
“Of course, I’m your friend and you know you can count on me, but these two women asked me for help in trying to contact you.” Frustration gnawed at me. “And I can assure you I never once let on that I had ever met you or seen you in Heather Moore.” I paused. “And what if Zach Stern had got to them first, what if he’d found out who they’re claiming to be? I can only imagine what he’d do with the story.” I rubbed at my forehead. “I didn’t know what to do for the best, Ezra. You trust me and so you should, but there’s an investigative journalist lurking around and two young women who are desperate to reach out to you…” I let my hands rise and fall as I sat there. “I wouldn’t betray your trust.” It was important to me that Ezra knew he could trust me. “All I said was if you ever wandered into Flower Power, I’d be sure to pass on their details to you.”
Ezra looked away; his hawkish profile uncompromising. Bursts of a delicate, popping red poinsettia were exploding behind him from a gold pot on an occasional table. “It’s very convenient that they’ve materialised, just as my much-anticipated autobiography was released.”
He threw me another irritated glance.
They didn’t come across as money-grubbing.
“Well, they both said they’d be happy to undertake DNA tests.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m sorry if you think I shouldn’t have got involved, but I was trying to do what I thought was best and it’s not like I’ve told them anything. I promised you I wouldn’t tell people you’re here and I didn’t.” I rubbed at my face. “I denied I’d seen you and that you came into the shop.” I hesitated. “But Zach Stern’s presence is worrying me.” I let out a weary sigh. “Both these girls came to my shop looking for you. They were desperate.”
“Yes, desperate for fame and money, no doubt. I bet it’s all some con.”
I dragged a hand through my hair. “They both said they approached their mothers about you, but they refused to help. They didn’t want to know.”
Ezra’s mouth contorted. He shot a guarded look around his opulent sitting room. “Yes. Well, we know why that’ll be. It’s all a tissue of lies. Or the four of them are secretly in on it.” He let his hands flap in frustration. “I don’t mean for this to sound dismissive, Bailey, but there are some very mercenary people out there; convincing too.” He tried to smile. “I know you only meant well, but in all likelihood, they aren’t who they say they are.”
I eyed him. “I appreciate that, Ezra, but for what it’s worth, I think Toni Rushmore and Jules Maddox could’ve capitalised on this years ago if they’d wanted to. I’ve told them nothing.”
Ezra’s tanned face froze. He gawped over at me for a few seconds. “What?! What did you just say?”
I blinked at him. “What part?”
“The names,” he faltered. His expression carried an odd look. “The names of the girls’ mothers. Tell me them again.”
I repeated the names Toni Rushmore and Jules Maddox.
Ezra’s expression was stricken. He looked lost in his own world for a time.
I gave Ezra a meaningful look. “Both these young women said you’d named their mothers in your autobiography and that you said you’d had affairs with both of them?”
There was a charged silence. He struggled to look me in the eyes. “My God.” Then he gave the briefest nod of his head. “Yes. I did name Jules and Toni.” He paused. “And I was involved with both of them.” He shot me a look. “They were intelligent, gorgeous women.”
A dark cloud settled over his features. His hands tumbled over each other in his lap. “And that’s definitely who they said their mothers were? You’re sure?”
“I’m certain. They showed me birth certificates.”
I moved to speak again, but Ezra cut me off. “That doesn’t mean I’m their father though.” He shook his head, hurt and confusion rearing in his eyes. “I don’t know what to think right now and that includes about you too, I’m afraid to say.”
I blinked at him. “Sorry?”
“I thought you were different, young lady. Everyone has always wanted a piece of me in some way or another, but I thought you were open and honest.”
“Ezra,” I began, “what are you talking about? You know you can trust me. You always can. I haven’t told anyone anything and you know that.”
The light from Ezra’s huge windows cast shadows across the pale carpet. “What do you get out of this?”
I frowned at him, hurt. “What do I get? What do you mean?”
“Well,” he said, glowering. “I imagine that trying to get a fledgling business off the ground nowadays isn’t cheap.”
His implication twisted in my chest like a knife. Did Ezra believe I offered to help Caroline and Laura for my own ends? That I would then go to the press and sell the story of the acclaimed elder statesman of the British acting world discovering he had two grown-up daughters?
Ezra didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t have to. The furious glint in his eyes answered my question.
It was ironic. He wouldn’t be contemplating the idea of me bleating to the press for money if he knew who I really was.
Hurt lodged in my throat. My mouth opened and closed a few times, resentment alight inside me. After what I’d been through with Declan. Now, I was being accused of betraying Ezra’s trust? “How dare you!” I ground out finally. The insult burned in my chest. “How could you even think that I’d even contemplate doing something like that. I told those two women I’d never seen you. I protected your privacy, just as I promised.” I swallowed. “And I even tried to find a solution by suggesting a doppelg?nger… You know nothing about me, Ezra. If you did, you’d see how alike we are in many ways.”
My voice was on the brink of cracking. “I’ve been let down by a lot of people in my life and I understand what that feels like; how you feel like you can’t trust anyone again; how you have to build this barrier around yourself, as that’s the only way you won’t get hurt…”
I drew up. I’d said enough. I knew how important it was, to find out who you were, what you wanted to be and how you were going to get there, but I halted my tongue. I couldn’t tell Ezra that.
Ezra raked a hand over his grey hair. His tone was dismissive. “Yes. Well.” He let out a self-conscious cough. “How old are they? Twenty-eight? Thirty? They must be about your age. They should have a sodding good idea who they are by now.”
“Oh, come on,” I snapped back. “That’s not fair and you know it.” The next sentence shot out of my mouth before I could stop myself. Indignation and hurt were swirling around inside of me like a typhoon. “And anyway, that’s rich coming from you.”
“Meaning?”
I dropped my voice lower, in case Jackson or Mrs Watson were in the vicinity. “You’re a famous actor with a very successful career and yet you leave London and move to a little Scottish town whose major claim to fame is a historical tree?”
Ezra looked awkward. “What’s your point, Bailey?”
“What are you running away from?”
His jaw hardened and he looked away, an odd expression charging across his craggy features. “I’m not running away from anything.”
He wasn’t telling me the whole story. Zach’s reference to some sort of scandal that Ezra was supposedly caught up in, nudged at the corners of my mind again. “I think you’re running away to escape having to take responsibility for whatever it is that you’ve done.”
Ezra’s Adam Apple bobbed up and down. He blinked back at me, his features thunderous. He jutted out his chin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, believe me, I do.”
There was an icy silence for a few moments.
Ezra closed off. He stood up. “On reflection, I don’t know if I should go ahead with having you supply your floristry services.”
I stared up at him, wounded.
He thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Under the circumstances, I feel it wouldn’t be appropriate.”
Bubbles of hurt exploded inside me. I’d expected Ezra to be stunned about what I’d just told him but to be so cruel. So dismissive. I struggled to maintain a level of dignified calm in my voice. I got to my feet.
“Well, that’s your prerogative, of course.”
I made a noise that was a cross between a grunt and a sigh. It was all I could manage.
“I apologise if you think I’ve overstepped the mark, but those women asked me for my help and I did what I thought was best at the time.” I tried to keep the emotion out of my voice. “I wanted to tell you straight away. That’s why I came here.” I buried a ball of upset rising up in my throat. I steadied myself and carried on. “The funny thing is that Caroline and Laura reminded me a bit of myself.”
Ezra cast his light gaze downwards for a few seconds towards his cream carpet. Then he scanned my face.
“If I hadn’t been trustworthy or if I’d been a fraud, I wouldn’t be standing talking to you like this right now. I’d be blabbing everything to the media.”
I began to march out of his panelled sitting room, but then stopped, swung round and strode back towards him. “If you stopped for just one moment to think about this, you might just realise that you can trust me, but I do understand how difficult it is to take that step, when you’ve been let down so often.”
I pushed out my chin, trying to stop the swell of hurt. “Must be such a shock for you, that the world doesn’t solely revolve around Ezra King after all.”
Ezra’s eyes widened in surprise. Then he set his jaw. “Please cancel my booking with you. I won’t be requiring your floristry services for the house or my party. I’ll make alternative arrangements. Oh, and I can deal with Zach Stern myself. No need for dramatics with Joshua. It was doomed to failure anyway.”
“Fine.” I gritted my teeth. “You do what you think is best.”
Ezra drew himself up.
He looked as if he were debating whether to speak again, but then a shadow passed over his face.
I marched out across the tiled hall. Jackson was glancing at his mobile as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He darted forward and opened the front door for me.
My hurt and anger burned white hot as I drove back to my shop.