Chapter 3 3. Encounter

Stepping to the reception, where a pretty blonde woman, immaculately turned out, with bright red lipstick and heavily made-up eyes, looked through me disdainfully, I said softly,

'Please, can I meet Mr. Finn St Just?"

*

The woman behind the desk looked at me like I was something unpleasant that the cat had dragged in. I did not blame her. With my round hips and full chest, breasts straining under the old plaid shirt I had on under the hoodie, I probably looked like a tramp, I thought gloomily.

But I straightened up, to my full five feet one inch and met her eyes bravely. She continued to study me balefully and then, in a cheesed-off voice, she asked,

"Do you have an appointment?'

My heart sank.

Shaking my head, and biting my lip, I shook my head sadly.

"No...but I needed to meet him urgently. Please?'

My brown eyes and full mouth were my best features, my friend, Stacey had once told me. I thought so too and used all my bravado to straighten up and say,

"Please, could you fit me in? I mean, it's very important."

She shook her head immediately as a phone call came in and she attended it. An older woman, who had been listening intently, stepped to me.

"Why don't you sit over there?' she said kindly, indicating a set of plush, upholstered armchairs that were scattered around the lounge. And then, with a wink, she added in a low tone,

"I'll call you when he's free."

I smiled gratefully and walked to the chairs she had pointed out.

Sinking into one, I sighed and closed my eyes.

What a mess life was!

*

My father, Derek Cruz, had started a small bakery in a little corner of the town of Luther Springs, where I was born and raised. Dad, with his shy smile and skill at baking, was able to make a success of it. But things went downhill when an investment he had made went all wrong and his partner in the business disappeared after embezzling the funds Dad had so painstakingly collected. Overnight, Dad found himself in trouble, owing money to a notorious small-time crook, Dean Nelson.

And that's when things began to go downhill.

The bills began to mount and Dad was not able to run the bakery the way he wanted to. He had already mortgaged it and finally, one cold snowy afternoon, a little before Christmas, he drove his car into the lake and left us to handle the debts.

My beautiful stepmother, Heather, who had never really understood the extent of the money he owed, was frantic. She had always been a butterfly, with Church fetes and hen parties keeping her happy. Dad had met her after my mother had died of cancer, and when pretty Heather waltzed into his patisserie, asking for Madelines, he had fallen hard for her. She was sweet and pretty, though empty-headed, as I realized when I grew up. But Dad loved her and she was kind to me.

Faced with the enormity of her task, she struggled to run the bakery and to take care of us, my little sisters and the house.

I stepped in and at sixteen, I opted to give up school and my dreams of university and a career in astrophysics. Instead, I took over the running of the bakery and tried to keep it afloat. I had never really dated, had never slept with a boy and was now at the ripe age of nineteen, a virgin and ridden with debts and worries.

&&&

Heather meanwhile, had taken to drinking and she was on the way to becoming a full-blown alcoholic... At the start it was just a few glasses of wine, to keep herself going, she told me apologetically. But it had snowballed into a situation where she was hitting the bottle regularly, no longer trying to hide her addiction. When I tried to remonstrate, she wept so loudly, I stopped for fear of upsetting the twins.

The visits from Dean Nelson were more frequent but now, the slimy toad had begun to come onto me.

&

"If you can't repay me, hun," he kept saying," I can arramge a job for you."

The first time he said it, we were in the tiny living room of our house. I tried to keep it looking neat and clean but the upholstery was old and faded, the walls were moldy and we had yet to pay the rent for last month, as old Mr. Craig had pointed out mildly. We had not been able to keep up with the extensive loans and I was grappling.

I needed money, and I needed it yesterday.

And when my Dad's assistant in the bakery, Alice White told me about the realtors who were buying the property next to ours, I had hit upon a wild plan.

Surely they would be interested in buying the land on which our little patisserie stood?

And maybe, I might make a profit, enough to set up a small bakery in another area...after a while?

I could get Heather to make an attempt to get over her addiction...

&

It was evening, and the gathering dusk outside made me grow more anxious as I looked outside. I had been here for almost five hours now, and still counting.

For the tenth time, I went up to the receptionist, my eyes pleading.

"Can I please meet Mr O'Grady or Mr St Just?' I said, trying to hide my frustration. The haughty woman who had spoken to me earlier, snapped,

"Mr O'Grady is not here today. As for Mr. St.Just, he does not have time to meet... ." And her eyes ran over me as she seemed to say," Scruffy teenagers like YOU."

"Please..." I tried and almost jumped as a deep voice said behind me,

"Who wants to meet Mr St.Just?"

"Oh!' cried the woman with the blonde hairdo, her eyes flying wide in shock.

"Oh, Mr St.Just!"

And as she stuttered, I whirled around, to look into a pair of amber eyes, like expensive brandy, almost translucent and I could hear my heart thudding in my chest.