Despite his heart not always being in the job, Alexander knew he was good at it. People warmed to him, trusted him almost without question, believed he had their best interests at heart.
Which he did. Which the family business did. When dealing with competitors they showed no mercy, but when it came to buying land that they would one day profit from, the Fletcher Group ensured they were more than fair. It was one of the reasons Alexander was able to commit to the job. That, and he had no choice. The only child of Frank and Veronika Fletcher meant he had no option. He was the future CEO of the Fletcher Group, whether he liked it or not.
The phone’s ringtone pierced his ears once more. His father wasn’t going to like what he was about to say, but if Alexander didn’t update him now, Frank Fletcher would be down here in a flash, and while he was generous with payouts, his methods of getting people to sell up were nowhere near as kind in their persuasion as Alexander’s.
Alexander accepted the call and braced himself for the barrage of questions that were sure to follow. ‘Dad, what can I do for you?’
There was no point exchanging pleasantries. His father was no more likely to ask how Alexander was than he was going to wish him a good evening. Such pleasantries were his mother’s job. His father’s job was to ensure his son was ready to take the reins of the Fletcher Group when the time came.
‘Alexander. Are all the contracts signed?’ In the background Alexander could hear the tinkle of ice hitting the bottom of the tumbler. He checked his watch. Just gone six. His father would still be at the office, but it was time for his daily gin and tonic. The one he drank as he went over the day’s dealings, while barking orders at his secretary, who would then stay as late as necessary to get what needed to be done sorted.
Alexander loosened his tie, hoping doing so would make the constricting piece of material feel less like a noose. No such luck. ‘The farmer, and the fishing supplies fellow signed immediately. The hairdresser still needs some convincing, but I’ll get her over the line.’ He pursed his lips together. This was going to go down like a tonne of lead bricks. ‘We have a hold out.’
‘What’s gone wrong?’ Frank’s tone was calm, steely. With a hint of condescension. He knew Alexander’s methods didn’t mirror his own, and he had little time for them, only tolerating them because they brought results.
‘Nothing’s gone wrong.’ Alexander gripped the phone and focused on a lone seagull soaring in the sky. What would it be like to be able to do just that? Soar on one’s own. Do whatever one wanted, whenever one wanted to do it? ‘It should have been a shoo-in. I researched her. I know her background. I saw an in.’
‘Clearly you saw wrong. You know how we do this. We find their weak point and we use it to our advantage.’
‘I know. And I thought I’d found it. I still think I have. I saw a bill flash up on her mobile while I was in there. She’s in debt. Can’t make payments. Where there’s one overdue bill, there will be more.’ Alexander left it there. Frank’s motivation in life was expanding the business in order to make more money, and if he thought Sophie was in financial trouble, that would settle his unease over Alexander not getting her to sign.
‘I’m going back to see her tomorrow. I left the offer with her. I can see it piqued her interest.’ Alexander crossed his fingers. Sophie had left the offer on the table. Unopened. A move that had astounded him. How could she not be even the remotest bit curious about what kind of money he was offering? She’d been so resolute in her refusal to sell, he was willing to bet a goodly sum of money that the offer was still on the table, unopened. ‘If she’s in the kind of money trouble I think she’s in, one night should give her enough time to realise how much easier her life would be without companies chasing her for money day-in, day-out.’
Except the original offer was enough to take care of debts and then some. If she was going to sell she would have by now.
He pushed the thought out of his head. Sophie would sign on the dotted line. They all did. He just had to find the right angle. Or find another option.
‘Get it done, Alexander. And if they still won’t sign, explain to them that they are a mere irritation in the grand scheme of things and that if we have to, we’ll build around them. We’ve already spent enough on this project that it can’t not go ahead. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Alexander swallowed a sigh. ‘I understand what you’re saying, Dad. I know what’s riding on it.’ The family name. Pride. Respect. Bottom lines. Profits. The future of the family business, which would one day sit squarely on his head, whether he wanted it to or not. ‘Talk tomo—’
He tucked the mobile back in his pocket. His father had already hung up. Moved on.
He swore under his breath. How was he going to play this? How was he going to balance his family’s expectations over his own way of doing business? Of getting the deals done without compromising his own values?
He slipped his tie over his head and tucked it into his trouser pocket, then released the top two buttons of his shirt.
Approaching Sophie twice in one day was out of the question. She wasn’t ready to trust him. Wasn’t ready to see his way of thinking.
His mind churned with possibilities as he turned his face towards the sun as it dipped closer to the horizon. He leaned his head back and allowed himself a moment to enjoy its soothing warmth.
His shoulders, bunched towards his ears, dropped. His hands, screwed up tight at his sides, unfurled. Alexander breathed in and took a moment to appreciate the intoxicating scent of the jasmine that wafted over the fence rails of the cottages that lined the street-side of the cliffs. Mixed with the salty aroma of the sea, it was a heady combination. One that made him want to change out of his formal uniform and slip into a pair of cargo shorts and a T-shirt and forego work for a barefoot walk along the beach below, followed by a spot of sand-sitting and sunset-watching.
The shimmering water, bathed in sunset colours of golds and reds, encouraged him to shirk his responsibilities.
There’s time enough to figure things out tomorrow. What’s a few hours to yourself? The waves shushing back and forth on the sand whispered. Take a moment. Relax while you can.
He shook his head clear of the temptation. The Fletchers didn’t relax; they made goals and met them. They took ailing communities and improved upon them.
What they achieved in a year did not happen by resting on one’s laurels.
He turned back to the tiny township and began to march towards it. He couldn’t see Sophie again, but he could drop in and see the hairstylist, Natalie. She was a sure thing, he felt it in his bones.
He reached the bookshop, and was surprised to see a light shining in the front window. He slowed his steps, acted as casual as he could as he side-eyed the window.
Sophie was curled up on the couch, her nose buried in a book. One hand stroking a small black and white cat that had snuggled up beside her. Her petite bow-shaped pink lips moved, as though she was reading the story to the cat.
Cute. Such a Sophie thing to do.
‘Such a Sophie thing to do’? What was he thinking? He’d barely spent half an hour in her presence. Sure, he’d researched her past, but that didn’t give him the right to believe he had intimate knowledge. That he knew her.
God, he needed to get back to the nitrogen dioxide-filled London air. This ozone was clearly playing with his head. Sending him on random flights of fancy. He no more knew Sophie than he knew the hairstylist, Natalie.
Yet the more he watched her read to the cat, curled up and comfortable on the worn sofa, a mug of tea steaming on the old coffee table, the more his brain whirled.
She was at home in the bookshop. Yet she was in danger of losing it, if his assumption that she was in serious debt was correct. Did that debt extend to council