One Last Gift, page 19
Cassie gave Linda’s arm a squeeze. “I’m fine,” she said. “How is everything here, then?”
“Oh, it’s good, it’s good—and it’s because of you that I’m still here, still able to do this.” She brought Cassie into another hug, and while Cassie hugged her back, she couldn’t help thinking that it wasn’t really because of her that the pub was still here, but rather because of their mystery donor.
A woman with brown hair streaked with blond highlights stepped out of the kitchen at that moment, wearing smart black trousers and a checked blue-and-black shirt. “Linda, we’ve still got some of those chocolate mousse pots left, so is it all right if I put them on as a special at dinner?”
Linda flapped a hand. “Fine, fine. Now, come and meet Cassie.” Cassie smiled at the woman, who held out her hand as she approached.
“I’m Katie.”
“She’s my new manager,” Linda said, and Cassie couldn’t help her eyebrows shooting up in surprise, though she tried to cover it with another smile.
“Lovely to meet you, Katie,” Cassie said politely.
Katie beamed—she had the kind of face you immediately warmed to, and Cassie could already imagine her being a big hit with the local customers. “Likewise. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Now, Katie, have you double-checked the bookings for this evening?”
Katie gave a quick, birdlike nod. “I have.”
“And have you—”
“Linda,” Cassie said, a little pleadingly. She got it—really—but she was also impatient to get going, to find the clue.
Linda glanced at Cassie. “All right, all right,” she said briskly. “We’re off, OK, Katie? Please call me if you have any problems.”
“I will. But I promise there won’t be!” Katie said cheerfully.
Because Linda was opening her mouth to say something more, Cassie linked an elbow through hers and tugged her firmly toward the front door. She gave Linda a sly look as they headed toward the car that she’d rented for this trip. “A new manager, hey?”
Linda wrinkled her nose. “Yes, well, we’ll see how she does tonight and tomorrow, and then I’ll make a call.”
“Does this mean there’s no more drama with the solicitors, then?” Cassie asked as she slid into the driver’s seat of the little red Kia.
“Well…” Cassie gave Linda a look and Linda sighed. “It’s just that apparently there was already a deposit put down, so I don’t know where we stand, legally speaking.”
“What?” Cassie said sharply. “That’s…” But she trailed off. She had an idea. “What if I knew someone?” she asked slowly. “Someone who might be able to help?”
“Who? Sam?”
“No, not Sam.” She was doing her best not to think about Sam, especially as she was just starting to feel better, and thinking about him did not help with that. Though he’d called her the other day—called her and hung up without saying anything. She hadn’t called him back, but she couldn’t help wondering what it had been about. “It’s our mystery donor.”
“Well, I suppose if you—” Linda slapped a palm to her forehead. “Hang on, I’ve forgotten my purse. I’ll be back in a moment, OK?” And she jumped out of the car, running back across the gravel parking lot to the pub.
Cassie used the opportunity to open up the GoFundMe page and write a message.
So we’re having some problems with the lawyers—and I know you said you used to be in law? Do you have any experience with property law? If so, I wonder if I could ask you a few questions?
Sure, ok.
She hesitated, but then decided to go for it. An email would be great, if you don’t mind? She couldn’t keep using the page, could she?
Ok. You can get me on sminnnewyork@hotmail.com.
Cassie frowned, surprised that he’d given up his email so easily now, when he hadn’t before. She felt a spark of triumph, which was immediately squashed when she reread the email address—no name there.
Still, it was better than nothing and she sent a list of the initial questions that came to mind, getting a response back almost immediately.
Just some quick, easy questions for me to look over, then?
Sorry!! No pressure, of course.
It’s no problem—I’ll take a look and get back to you later today.
Thanks so much. And because this stranger was being kind, she felt the need to justify. It’s just, thanks to you we’ve got the money and I don’t want everything to be ruined all because of some stupid legal stuff.
I’ve always thought legal stuff was quite stupid myself.
Cassie felt her lips twitch. Not all legal stuff. I suppose some laws are there for a reason.
Like the law against murdering people, do you mean? That kind of thing?
Cassie felt her lips pulling into a smile. Yes, that’s the kind of legal stuff that probably isn’t stupid, I’ll admit.
Or, for instance, the law against eating mince pies on Christmas Day.
Cassie snorted out loud. That’s not a law.
It was in 1644.
You’re having me on.
I’m not—Christmas Day fell on a legally mandated fasting day that year.
That’s the kind of thing they teach you in law school, is it?
Sure—we have to learn every single law that ever was by heart.
You googled it, didn’t you?
Guilty as charged.
Cassie laughed as Linda got back into the car.
Linda frowned. “What?”
“Nothing,” Cassie said, a little quickly. “Right—next stop Wales?”
Linda settled her purse on her lap. “Indeed. Wales, here we come.”
* * *
—
“This must be it,” Cassie said, as she followed the GPS and turned right up a winding tarmac drive. A sign that read Of Pubs and Men was barely visible by the side, the black lettering on the wooden sign fading, the “Pub” half rubbed away. It wasn’t really a pub, either, from what Cassie had gleaned on the internet. It was more of a B&B, but apparently there had used to be a pub here, and they hadn’t bothered changing the name.
The driveway gave way to an epic house—the photos on the website really didn’t do it justice. It was Victorian in style and brilliantly bright green, a beautiful veranda on one side of it and an old oak tree on the other. There was only one other car—an old, slightly rusty-looking Fiat, parked outside. Like the car, the house had a slightly run-down look to it, but in a way that suited it. Cassie couldn’t help wondering what it must have been like, back in the day, to live somewhere like this. There were cottages down the driveway to the right, presumably for the workers who had once lived here, and Cassie assumed the drive also led to a separate servants’ entrance around the back of the house.
She and Linda got out of the car, and Cassie took a deep breath of the fresh, clean air. The day was glorious—bright blue sky spanning out across the fields—far from the cold and wet picture Tom had painted. There were sheep, though—Cassie could see them in the fields below, with little lambs skipping around after their mothers. It made her smile, and she surprised herself by how instantly she felt content here, out in the rural countryside.
Linda smiled over at Cassie. “You look a picture with that backdrop.” She indicated the rolling hills.
Cassie grinned. “I have to say, I kind of love it here.” She felt she could breathe, somehow, now that she was out of London, away from the hectic nature of it, away from Robert watching her every move at the hotel.
“You’ve been to Wales before, haven’t you? I remember Claire taking you when you were little.”
Cassie nodded absentmindedly. It had been the summer holidays, and Claire had booked a week in Snowdonia. Cassie had been excited about going on holiday for the first time in ages—and about spending time with Tom, just the two of them. At the last minute, though, Sam had ended up coming too. He was supposed to be going on holiday to Greece or somewhere, but his dad had canceled with no notice and his mum had been all panicked, so Claire had invited him along with them.
Cassie grabbed her small rucksack from the trunk of the car. “Hey, Linda. Did you know Tom got into Oxford?”
If Linda was surprised by the abrupt change of subject, she didn’t show it. “I didn’t,” she said, and her voice was a little careful. “You mean, to university there?”
Cassie only nodded. It had been playing on her mind since she’d gotten the last clue, the fact that Tom could have kept something like that from her. It made it better, maybe, that she wasn’t the only one who had been in the dark. Had Sam known? she wondered. Would she ever be in the same room with him again, to ask him? They’d only ever been brought together because of Tom, really, and she couldn’t imagine just bumping into him, given she’d decided to try to cut him from her life. For the first time, though, she felt a pang of sadness at that. Not for Sam, but for the memories he held of Tom, the bits of her brother he carried with him.
She and Linda walked to the front door. There was no doorbell, so Cassie banged the big brass knocker.
“It’s open!” came a voice from inside. Cassie looked over at Linda, who shrugged, then twisted the doorknob. They stepped inside a little porch area, a line of coats hanging to the right and at least four umbrellas leaning against the wall to the left. Tentatively, Cassie stepped through the porch, pushed open another door, and saw a grand entrance hall, red-carpeted steps opening up to a majestic fireplace, a candle chandelier hanging in the middle of the room.
“Welcome, welcome!” An old woman, white-gray hair set in curls atop her head, rushed into the room, beaming at them both. She wore a dress of velvet blue and bright red lipstick, more appropriate for a cocktail party than hosting a B&B, Cassie thought. “Come in, come in, come in.” She gestured all the way inside. “You’re Cassie Rivers and Linda Hill, is that right?” She had a soft, lilting Welsh accent. “Wonderful. We’ve got the best rooms in the house set up for you. Though, as you’re the only two guests here today, you’d expect that, wouldn’t you?” She gave a tinkling laugh.
“Now,” she said, taking both Linda’s and Cassie’s bags with surprisingly toned arms, “I’ve put a brochure on the things to do in the local area in your rooms—though come to think of it, you’re only staying one night, is that right?”
“Yes, sadly,” Cassie said. She’d only been able to get the one night away from London because of work. She hadn’t wanted to piss Robert off by asking for an extra day off, but on top of that, there was an events exchange weekend coming up in a few months, and she really wanted Robert to send her. It was something some of the hotels did, if they were in the program together, and it meant you could go and manage an event at a different hotel, try to see what they were doing differently that you could take back to your own company, and what you could improve from your own experience. She’d never done it before, and this year it was at this gorgeous manor house in Sussex, and she was hoping that Robert would let her do it.
“It’s a shame, it’s a shame. But here, I’ll show you round. Oh, and I’m Tiff, by the way, but you probably know that.” Tiff gave no mention of Tom visiting as she started the tour of the house, but then, Cassie had a feeling she already knew who the next clue was coming from.
“This is amazing,” Cassie told Tiff honestly as she finished the tour. There were eleven bedrooms, she’d learned; a billiard room upstairs that was “out of action” at the moment due to a leak in the en-suite toilet but which would be brilliant when up and running; a grand dining room, a living room where you could curl up next to the fire, with the old Victorian kitchen still intact at the back of the house, next to a separate, more demure-looking staircase compared to the one at the front of the house, which presumably the servants would have used. The rundown feel of the house was impossible to ignore, with paint flicking off the walls in places, and cobwebs hanging high in corners in some of the rooms, along with carpets that were tearing off the floor at the back of the house. But despite all that, Cassie loved it. Other than the fact that it was majestic, the house seemed to have a story to tell—she felt it almost waiting expectantly for them as they opened each door, and she couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit sad for the old rooms that had been neglected, their doors shut off from the rest of the house, like they were just waiting to shine again.
“Do you do any events here?” Cassie asked, as Tiff led them back into the entrance hall, where two armchairs sat by the window around a coffee table in the corner. Because events would be amazing here, Cassie couldn’t help thinking. A majestic Victorian house in the countryside, not too remote but rural enough that you’d have the feeling that you could escape from reality. It would be great for intimate weddings, birthdays, but also longer things too—retreats would be brilliant here, and there was plenty of space to write or do yoga, or whatever your thing was.
“Oh no, I don’t have the energy for that anymore,” Tiff said. “I’m actually trying to sell the place at the moment.”
“Sell it?” Cassie asked.
“Yes. It’s lovely, but too much for me now—and I’ve met someone in Portugal, so I’m going to go and live there, as soon as I’m shot of this place.” She gave Cassie a look that she couldn’t quite interpret. “Anyway. You both sit down—can I get you a little welcome tipple?”
“That would be lovely,” Linda said, sitting herself down on the red armchair and leaving the green for Cassie. “I run a pub, and I’m hardly ever the one being waited on. How about a glass of red wine?”
Tiff pursed her bright red lips. “I don’t have any red in at the moment, I’m afraid—I’m running stocks down while I wait to sell up. How about a glass of port? Or sherry?”
“Have you had much interest in the house?” Cassie couldn’t help asking.
“Not yet,” Tiff said breezily. “It’s a big project to take on, I suppose. There was one fellow who was interested a while back, but he said he was waiting for something, so we’ll see.” It was a big project, Cassie thought, but what a place. “I’ll get you both a sherry, shall I?” And leaving them with no choice, Tiff disappeared.
Cassie and Linda grinned at each other as they watched her go. “Well,” Linda said. “She’s certainly…something.”
“I like her,” Cassie said decisively. She was sure Tom would have liked her too, and she wondered if he had ever met her—if that’s why he’d decided to send her here.
“Now that we’re here,” Linda said, “I think it’s OK to give you this.” She slid an envelope out of her purse. “I know you’ve been wondering about it,” she added softly.
Cassie felt that shock, the way she always did with the envelopes, at the sight of Tom’s handwriting. Number Four. One more to go after this, if Tom was following the same pattern as previous years—which meant she was over halfway through. What would she find when she got to the end?
“Your parents used to come on holiday to Wales, you know,” Linda said.
Cassie looked up at her. “Really?”
Linda nodded. “They took you and Tom one year. I think you might have been too little to remember, but your mum told me all about it when they got back. They attempted to climb Snowdon—your mum’s idea, but it was a disaster with you and Tom, apparently.”
Cassie smiled. Of course her mum would have tried to climb a mountain with two toddlers. Always searching for the next adventure, like Tom.
“She loved it here, though, your mum. Was always talking about how she and your dad would move to Wales one day. That was the plan, anyway, but they needed to be somewhere on the commuter belt for a bit longer, and Wales was just that bit far out.” And they never got the chance, Cassie thought sadly. Just like Tom, now, would never get the chance to do all the things he’d planned to do.
Tiff came back into the room carrying two sherries in mismatched glasses. She popped them down on the coffee table between them. “Now, I think I’ve got a bit of shortcake to go with that somewhere, bear with.”
As she disappeared for the second time, Cassie opened the envelope.
All I can think of when I think of Wales, Chipmunk, is that holiday we went on, and you stamping your little foot and refusing to come in out of the rain, because I’d annoyed you about something, and Sam had to go out and coax you back inside. Do you remember?
She did remember, now that he’d mentioned it. It was on that same holiday she’d been thinking about earlier. Claire had rented a tiny holiday cottage, and Tom and Sam ended up sharing a room, alternating who slept on the floor, because it had only been booked for the three of them. Cassie had been upset, because it was the first time she hadn’t been sharing a room with Tom on holiday. She’d stormed out of the house—it had felt like a big deal to her and it should have been obvious why she was upset, but clearly she’d not articulated it very well, because Tom didn’t get it and thought she was being silly. They’d had a rare sibling fight, ending with him telling her, “Go away, Cassie, you’re so annoying.”
“Fine, I will,” she said dramatically, intending to go far and leave them all worrying about her—that would teach her stupid brother. So she had gone away, but she hadn’t been brave enough to go farther than the garden, because she didn’t want to get lost. So she’d stood out there, folding her arms, refusing to get in out of the rain until Tom apologized.
Claire had called from the house. “Cassie! Don’t be silly, you’ll get cold. Come inside now, hmm?”
“No.”
“Fine. You stay there then.” Claire knew, perhaps, that she only had a few more minutes’ determination left in her.
