Chapter 50 Leah
Leah
She woke with a raging thirst and a queasy stomach.
Her phone told her it was well after eleven.
Her dress lay discarded over the back of the small armchair by the window.
She’d dropped her shoes by the door and slept in her black thong, passing out within minutes of reaching her room.
Her hair was a snarled mess; she found several pins still hidden in its depths.
Her memories of getting home were jumbled and disjointed.
She recalled some of the car ride with Jackson, remembered slipping off her heels to climb the porch steps (avoiding the hole), and the two glasses of water he’d made her drink in the kitchen.
He’d guided her to her room and—oh, God—turned down her offer to share her bed.
Leah’s cheeks flared; she pulled the comforter up and over her head. Why couldn’t she have forgotten that?
What a disaster of an evening. Even dressed up to the nines and plastering on the social graces, she hadn’t been able to make it through the night without showing herself up. It had all been pointless.
“Coffee.” Her voice sounded surprisingly normal. “And toast. No more thinking until I’ve had coffee and toast.”
She halted in the kitchen doorway, digging on all her reserves of strength.
Jackson paused, mid-chew—cereal bowl in one hand, spoon in the other.
Leah could have sworn his mouth ticked up at one corner when he ran those arctic eyes over her well-worn leggings and crimson hoodie. She tried desperately not to care.
“How’s your head?” he asked.
“Could be worse.” She grimaced. “Thanks for making me drink water.”
“You’re welcome.”
The silence was sticky. Leah expected Jackson to leave, the way he usually did when she entered a room.
But he stayed, leaning against the countertop, watching her as he ate.
He didn’t move when she crossed the kitchen to take a mug from the cupboard by his head or when she accidentally brushed his arm reaching to flick on the coffee machine.
He smelled fresh and minty. It was a relief to move away and slot two slices of bread into the toaster.
A dozen conversation starters hovered on her tongue but Leah’s spirit felt too heavy to spit any of them out.
“Want to eat that out back on the veranda?”
Her knife hesitated, laden with peanut butter. She didn’t know which was less expected—the actual question or the amenable tone it was asked in. “I—”
The clamorous chime of the doorbell cut through her reply. She saw Jackson’s chest rise and fall with the deepest of sighs, and the frustration as he dragged his hand along his jaw. “Of all the fucking timing . . .” he muttered, wrenching his eyes from hers and striding out of the kitchen.
Leah chewed on a mouthful of toast, heart plummeting as the unmistakable and unwelcome tones of Jackson’s father rose and fell in the foyer.
“Crap on a cracker.” She raised “give me strength” eyes to the ceiling.
“You didn’t expect to throw a bomb into the middle of our lives and just walk away, did you?” Alistair Hale sounded at the end of his tether.
“I’ll be honest, I expected we’d sit down and start untangling this mess tomorrow. Unrealistic of me, as it turns out.” Jackson pushed his hands deep into his pockets, weary resignation in the slump of his shoulders. “Come on in.”
Leah propped herself against the kitchen doorframe, raising her toast in subdued greeting when Alistair and Celia swept into the living room.
Seeing Jackson’s parents again so soon had not been on her wish list when she woke up this morning, and as a recap of the night before played at full volume in her mind, she fought to keep the color from flooding her face.
“I suppose we have you to blame for this,” Alistair snapped.
“That’s enough, Dad. Leah knows nothing about it.”
She swung her gaze from Jackson to his father to his mom, and was still none the wiser.
“Hello, dearie!” Hazel’s greeting was full of sunshine. It burst merrily over the gathering storm in the living room, as she tapped on the kitchen door and opened it in the same second. “How did your evening go?”
Leah’s breath escaped in a silent whoosh of relief.
Alistair Hale, hearing Hazel’s voice, did not seem to feel the same. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Can we not have a single, solitary moment without freeloaders and the elderly crashing in on discussions that don’t concern them!”
“That’s quite rude, actually,” Hazel admonished, as she passed through the kitchen and into the living room.
“I apologize for barging in but there’s no need for bad manners, young man.
” Handyman Stan sauntered in at her heel, brushing against Hazel’s trousers before leaping delicately onto a broad cast-iron radiator and stretching out along its length, clearly none the worse for his gasoline dunking.
“I remember when your drainpipe trousers were so narrow you could hardly get your foot through the leg holes, so don’t get all lofty with me. ”
Wow, that was an image Leah hadn’t expected. She fought a smile. “Can I make anyone a drink?”
“Oh, that’d be lovely, thank you.” Hazel twinkled. “I’ll help you brew some tea.”
“I don’t need this right now, Jackson.” Alistair ignored them both. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes feverish and fatigued. “I have enough on my plate as it is.”
“And who’s fault is that, Dad?” Jax stood tall, unbowed and resolute.
His father’s mouth flapped. Somehow, he’d lost the upper hand while Leah wasn’t looking and she couldn’t be more delighted. If she wasn’t so hungover, she’d want popcorn instead of toast to accompany this drama.
“I’m not going to change my mind,” Jackson said firmly. “I’m resigning. I sent you an email confirmation this morning. And I’m not selling Amity Court.”
He dropped both bombshells as calmly as he might have discussed plans for the weekend. Leah whirled in the kitchen doorway, her socks sliding on the floorboards, to find Jax looking at her rather than his father. Her headache gone. Hazel’s tea forgotten.
“You are not resigning and you will sell this house.” His father dragged the words out as if each one was a dead weight.
“I am and I won’t,” said Jackson. “But this conversation is getting stupid.” His chest expanded and he rolled his shoulders.
“I’ve realized how much I miss not working on the tools day to day.
I don’t enjoy the management role. It’s time for a change.
Hale Evolution has always been your obsession—it’s not mine.
I need to find something that means more to me. ”
Leah wanted to hug him for his bravery.
“Nothing should mean more than the family business!” Alistair spluttered.
“It’s your company, Dad. You’ll only ever treat it as your company. The mess we’re in is down to the unilateral decisions you made and I’m sick of dealing with the fallout.”
“I won’t let you do this. We’re on the verge of the big one.” Alistair was unraveling in front of their eyes. “The Kingswater deal is everything. It’ll be the project that makes us. The project that steals Addlestone-Black’s place in the market.”
“What do the Addlestone-Blacks have to do with anything?” Hazel stepped into no man’s land with fearless disregard for landmines. Her voice was sharp.
“You know them?” Jackson was confused.
There was a sudden charge in the air. Alistair, Celia, and Hazel exchanged loaded glances. And a bolt of understanding streaked through Leah’s memory. “RAB—of course. Richard Addlestone-Black. He was The Creep from Esther’s diary!”
“What?” Jackson’s head jerked back. “You’re kidding me.”
Alistair sat down heavily on the edge of the sofa, wiping his hands over his face. Celia’s eyes bounced between them like ping-pong balls. “Do we need to get into this now?” she asked. “Maybe we could talk it over at home.”
Leah’s focus remained on Hazel, whose shoulders were straight even though her eyes held whirlpools of emotion.
“What happened at the anniversary party?” The question escaped Leah before she could call it back.
“I don’t want—” Alistair tried interrupting, but Hazel cut him short with just a look.
“It’s time,” she said simply. “I’ve waited for you to explain but you haven’t.
So now I will.” Crossing to the armchair, she sank down onto the cushions and lifted her chin, directing her words to Leah.
“The party took place just as I explained. I told you about Esther’s plan to leave early, didn’t I? ”
Twisting the ring on her thumb, Leah nodded, frozen in the doorway.
“And that’s what we did, but we had no idea that Dickie followed.
His pride was wounded by Esther’s disinterest. She said she never imagined for a moment he would be such a danger.
” Hazel’s throat bobbed as she chose her words carefully and deliberately.
“But he was indeed dangerous. An arrogant and egotistical young man, who believed strength and money allowed him to take whatever he wanted, even when it wasn’t freely given. ”
Her hands clasped in her lap, the old lady took a shaky breath. Alistair and Celia radiated tension from the couch, while Jackson stood like a statue beside them.
“When the dust settled and we found there was to be a baby, Atherton stepped up, rock-steady and willing to support Esther with the parenting. He never wavered in his love for her and he was prepared to take on the role of father as if the baby was their own.” Hazel’s voice was strained and thin.
Leah rubbed at her chest, utterly heartsick.
“Esther was so strong, so resolute. She quietly married Atherton, with the blessing of her parents, and they raised Alistair together, making their own happiness the priority over any revenge. They never had any more children.”
Looking utterly blindsided, Jackson cleared his throat before he could speak, and turned to his dad. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? If Richard Addlestone-Black is your father, it doesn’t need to be kept a grubby secret. You could have talked to me, adult to adult.”
His dad stayed mute, his shoulders slumped. Hazel held herself taut beside Leah, her face unusually pale. Handyman Stan yawned, bored by the drama.
“I get that you would want some kind of payback for what he did. But you almost ruined your company—and worse—to get back at him,” said Jax.
“You get nothing.” Alistair turned his chin, a muscle knotting in his jaw.
The bitterness coating his dad’s voice was vicious.
“I’ve had to scrabble to build the business up from the ground, step by gradual step, while Max Addlestone-Black collected on my birthright with no effort at all.
I don’t want payback. I want what’s rightfully mine. And I want them to suffer.”
Leah curled her fingers into the cuffs of her hoodie, hugging her body. She wished her head would stop banging. This was all way too much on one cup of coffee and a half-eaten piece of toast.
“Now you’re being silly.” Hazel was the one to answer first, though Leah noticed her voice wasn’t steady. She studied her old friend more intently, concern blooming in her chest. “You’re not owed anything at all, whatever the circumstances of your birth. None of us are.”
“You—” There was hostile dismissal in Alistair’s reply. “You stay out of this. You and Esther made your decisions and left me to deal with the consequences, so you have no say over what I do or don’t do now.”
Hazel narrowed her eyes, the clear blue of her irises flashing in the morning light and—oh my God! thought Leah. She sucked in a breath so swiftly it tickled the back of her nose. Then her gaze darted to Jackson. And to his dad.
The same eyes. How had she missed seeing it before? They all had the same brilliant blue eyes. Esther’s had been brown, Atherton’s too from the photos she’d seen.
And that letter she’d found from Hazel—
Are you absolutely sure? One hundred percent?
I have to ask again.
This isn’t like lending a purse or borrowing a book. This is a really big deal.
“Esther wasn’t your mother,” she murmured, turning back to Alistair again. “Hazel is.”