Falling for You (28 page)

The next morning Oliver phoned the unit to find out how Tiff was. Juliet took the call and reassured him that everything was fine.

“He's doing brilliantly.” She paused. “Are you coming in to see him today?”

Oliver cleared his throat. “Well, er, no. As long as he's doing well, that's the main thing. I've got a lot on, as you can imagine… Um, give him my best wishes…”

Best wishes. Poor Oliver. He did love Tiff, in his own way.

“I'll do that.” Juliet nodded, doing her best to keep the smile out of her voice. “I'll tell him the other thing as well, shall I?”

“Fine, fine. Far better coming from you. I'll bring him some presents when he's had time to get used to the idea.” Oliver's hearty tone couldn't quite disguise his awkwardness. Now that Tiff was no longer hovering at death's door, he didn't know how to handle the situation.

“They're moving him to the children's ward this afternoon,” said Juliet.

“What would he like? LEGOs? Scalextric? How about the new PlayStation?”

“Oliver, you don't have to do that.” If she left it to him, he'd empty the toy store. “Tiff's fine. He's got everything he needs.” He would soon, anyway. Tiff was already counting down the minutes until he could be reunited with Sophie.

* * *

Jake left Sophie, who was in a frenzy of anticipation, with Marcella. Considering it was a fairly momentous thing he was about to do, he felt surprisingly calm as he made his way up Gypsy Lane.

Approaching Dauncey House, he removed his sunglasses. It was just gone midday and Kate was at the Angel beginning her lunchtime shift. Oliver Taylor-Trent's car, a silver top-of-the-range BMW, was parked on the graveled driveway, looking—as it always did—as if it had just been valeted.

Tucking his sunglasses into his shirt pocket and noticing that the flower-filled stone urns on either side of the front door needed watering, Jake rang the bell.

He heard it jangle inside the house. Finally the door opened. Oliver, back from London and wearing a gray business suit, was on the phone. When he saw Jake on the doorstep he said, “Right, right. Doug, I'm going to have to get back to you. OK, fine, bye.”

“I wonder if anyone's ever gotten it wrong,” Jake said easily.

Oliver frowned. “What?”

“Busy executive businessman barking instructions over the phone to his assistant. They're discussing a takeover bid for another company. The conversation ends and he says bye. But the assistant thinks his boss has just said buy, so he rushes off to do as he's been told. Just a thought.”

Oliver said brusquely, “If he were my assistant, he wouldn't have the power to buy a company.”

Jake looked disappointed. “Not even a little one?”

“Not even a little one.”

“Not even a company as small as mine?”

“What would I want with a company that supplies painted coffins? And why are we having this conversation?” demanded Oliver. “Hoping to sell up, are you?”

“No.” Jake shook his head, smiling at the thought of Oliver stripped to the waist in the dusty workshop, painstakingly painting the whiskers of a blue Persian onto the lid of a cat lover's casket. “But I'd like a word. Can I come in?”

Oliver shrugged and stepped to one side, ushering him through. In the kitchen, he set about boiling the kettle and locating a pair of coffee mugs with the air of someone unfamiliar with such a domestic task.

Jake, waiting for the coffee to get made, leaned against the dresser with his arms crossed, surveying the kitchen. It was vast, almost as big as the entire ground floor of Snow Cottage, but there was a sense of sadness and neglect about the room. Their own kitchen might be minuscule by comparison and it might not boast a gleaming Neff oven, custom-made handcrafted units, and a chrome espresso machine as big as a fridge, but Jake knew where he'd rather live.

It took a while, but finally the coffee was made. Jake stayed standing when Oliver handed him his mug and guessed that Oliver would too. Sitting down at the table would give away his this-is-my-house advantage.

Jake guessed right.

“So,” Oliver said at last. “What's this all about?”

As if he didn't already have a pretty good idea.

“Juliet. And Tiff. Juliet and I are a couple now. I love her,” Jake said steadily, “and she loves me. I love Tiff as well. We've been like a family for years. Even you must know that. But everything's changed now. We're going to live together.”

Oliver's jaw tightened with annoyance. “How can you say you've been like a family for years? I may not always be around, but I hear about what goes on from Marcella and Estelle. You've never settled for one girl when half a dozen would do. You, stay faithful to Juliet? Don't make me laugh.” He gestured dismissively. “The pair of you wouldn't last five minutes. First you'd break her heart, then you'd break Tiff's. No, I'm sorry, I can't allow that to happen.”

Jake raised his eyebrows. “You can't
allow
it?”

“You and Sophie aren't moving into the apartment above the shop,” Oliver said bluntly. “Now, don't take this personally. I'm just thinking of Tiff and what's best for my son—”

“Hang on, sorry, we're talking at cross purposes here.” Jake held up a hand to stop him. “I wasn't asking your permission just then. I was telling you how things are going to be from now on. And no,” he went on before Oliver could protest. “I'm not planning to move into Juliet's apartment. She and Tiff will be coming to live with us. At Snow Cottage.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Oliver exploded. “You can't do that! What about your sister and that dippy barmaid friend of hers? Are you seriously planning to squeeze six of you, all together, into that—that
rabbit
hutch
?”

“Well, maybe we can come to some arrangement about that.” Jake paused and took a mouthful of coffee. He was really enjoying himself now. “You see, Juliet tells me you bought the deli outright, so obviously what you decide to do with it is up to you. But she'd like to carry on working there, and so would Maddy. Which got us wondering,” said Jake. “Actually it was Juliet's idea. How would you feel about Maddy and Nuala moving into the apartment?” He watched Oliver, who was clearly wary of being outmaneuvered, mentally running through the list of pros and cons.

Finally Oliver said, “And if I say no?”

“That's absolutely OK. Before my parents moved into Snow Cottage, Cyrus Sharp's family lived there. And they had nine children,” said Jake. “So please don't worry about us, because I promise you, we'll be fine.”

Oliver was motionless, staring at him. He ran a finger around the inside of his shirt collar, loosening it. Jake, waiting for his reaction, thought how silent the house was.

Until the tiny cell phone on the kitchen table began to ring, causing Oliver to jump and glance down at the caller's ID.

“I'll think it over.” Oliver's dismissive manner indicated that it was time for Jake to leave. “And let you know.”

Smiling, Jake left Oliver to deal with his phone call and let himself out of the house. It was actually really nice, feeling this sorry for a multimillionaire.

* * *

“Hey, this is cool.” Tiff greatly approved of his new surroundings. Gazing around the brightly decorated children's ward, nodding with satisfaction, he said for the hundredth time, “When will Sophie be here?”

Juliet's eyes danced, picturing the Hollywood-style reunion. Any minute now, Jake and Sophie would appear through the swing doors. Yelling, “Oh, Tiff. Oh,
Tiff
,” Sophie would break away from Jake and race, in Hollywood slow motion, the length of the ward before throwing herself ecstatically into Tiff's arms.

It didn't happen like that at all. Sophie, who had never lacked confidence in her life, found all the pre-reunion hype too much and experienced her first-ever bout of paralyzing shyness. Refusing to let go of Jake's hand, she remained glued to his side, staring fixedly at the artwork up on the wall. For a good five minutes, their conversation was as stilted as that of two strangers in the waiting room of an STD clinic.

Finally Sophie said, “What's the food like?”

“Gross.”

“Oh.” Pause. “What are the other kids like?”

Tiff shrugged. “Don't know. I only just got here.”

“Oh. So what are the nurses like?”

“Don't know. I only just
got
here.”

Longer pause.

At last Sophie said grudgingly, “I told Bean you were better and she wagged her tail.”

Tiff's lip curled. “That's because she's a dog.”

“Did you like my cards?”

“They were all right.”

“I won't make any more then.” Sophie bristled. “They took me ages.”

They were glaring mutinously at each other now, like Tom and Jerry.

“You can have them back then,” snarled Tiff.

“Ugh, no thanks, with
your
germs on them.”

“
Right
.” Jake seized Sophie's hand. “If all you're going to do is argue, we'll go home now and—”

“No!” bellowed Sophie and Tiff in unison.

Jake raised his eyebrows. “So if we stay, you think you can manage to be nice to one another?”

Tiff and Sophie exchanged glances, then both nodded vigorously.

Jake smiled across at Juliet and said, “OK.”

“I should think so too.” Juliet gave Tiff a behave-yourself look. “Getting stroppy with your first proper visitor really isn't on. You're supposed to be nice to people who—”

“Sophie isn't my first visitor,” said Tiff. “Mr. Taylor-Trent was here yesterday.”

Juliet stiffened. Of all the subjects to crop up. She'd spent the entire morning attempting to pluck up the courage to explain the necessary facts to Tiff, but the right moment simply hadn't arisen.

Plus, of course, she was a big wimp.

“Did he do you a card?” Sophie's tone was accusing.

Tiff scowled. “No.”

“Well then, he's not as good as me, because I've done you six cards. Anyway, he doesn't count as a proper visitor,” she went on scornfully. “He only came here because he's your father.”

Juliet felt all the blood drain from her face, although where it went she couldn't imagine. Casting an anguished glance over at Jake, she willed someone, somewhere, to press the rewind button so the words could slither back into Sophie's mouth. Unable to move, she looked across at Tiff.

“What?” Tiff was frowning. “Mr. Taylor-Trent? How can he be my father?”

Sorry
, Jake mouthed across at Juliet.

“You remember, the seed thing. Carrie Carter from school told us about it.” Sophie assumed an air of superiority. “It's called mating.”

Jake was doing his best not to snort with laughter. Juliet was glad he found it so funny.

“Oh, mating.” Tiff nodded equally sagely, like an eminent professor. “Seeds, yeah.” He paused, his expression thoughtful. “Mr. Taylor-Trent's a bit old, isn't he?”

“He's
very
old,” Sophie grandly announced. “But quite rich. So that's good, probably.” She beamed at Tiff. “For when you need a new bike or an Xbox or something. Now that he's your dad, he'll have to buy you presents.”

Tiff blinked up at Juliet. “So you really mated with Mr. Taylor-Trent?”

Never mind hiding under the bed, she wanted to crawl away and die.

“Um…yes.”

Behind her, Jake was by this time almost crying with silent laughter.

“Do we have to go live with him?” asked Tiff.

Wordlessly Juliet shook her head.

“That's all right then.” Visibly relaxing, Tiff turned his attention back to Sophie. “They've got a PlayStation 2 on this ward, one of the nurses told me. Do you want to have a look at the tube going into my arm?”

This was the invitation Sophie had been waiting for. Next moment she was perched on the bed next to Tiff, avidly poring over the spot where the plastic tubing actually disappeared through the skin, and bombarding him with questions about how much it had hurt.

Jake drew Juliet to one side, away from the bed.

“Damn, so that's what I've been missing all these years—the ultimate chat-up accessory, an IV drip. Think of the girls I could have hooked up with if only I'd known.”

Scarcely able to believe that the question of Tiff's paternity had apparently been answered and dismissed as not terribly interesting in half a minute flat, Juliet breathed a shaky sigh of relief and leaned against Jake.

“You didn't do so badly.”

“Ah, but you might not have been able to resist me in the first place if only I'd had an IV tube to enthrall you with.”

Juliet smiled, enjoying the feel of his hand on her back. “You were pretty irresistible as it was. I just told myself that was the problem.”

“You weren't so shabby yourself.” Lowering his voice further still, Jake murmured into her hair, “Is it time to tell them, d'you think?”

“Tell us what?” asked Sophie immediately, her head jerking up like a meerkat's.

Jake and Juliet glanced at each other.

“Something soppy,” Tiff observed with a sly smile. “Your dad's got his arm around my mum.”

“So?” asked Jake.

“Bleeeuurgh,
gross
,” Sophie and Tiff cried in unison, breaking into fits of giggles and pointing at Juliet and Jake.

“You're in looove, you're in looove.”

It wasn't the first time this had happened. Any fleeting demonstration of affection between adults was routinely greeted with jeers and the same chanted accusation. As a rule, the best way for the adults concerned to deal with it was to ignore them.

“Yes,” Jake said simply, “we are.”