What was so important, he wondered, that she still had to run out of here, even after the arrival of a husband she hadn’t seen in five years? Another man? Probably.
Not that he cared, of course. All that mattered to him was her professional availability. Not her personal life.
‘I want to hire you. Your firm, I mean. But specifically you.’ There, he’d said it. And, judging by the look on his wife’s face, he’d managed to surprise her in the process. The shock in her expression gave him a measure of control back, which he appreciated.
‘Whatever for?’ she asked eventually.
‘My father.’ The words came out tight, the way they always did when he spoke about it. The unfairness of it all. ‘He’s dying.’
And that was the only reason he was there. The only thing that could make him seek out his ex-in-all-but-paperwork-wife and ask for her help.
‘I’m so sorry, Jacob.’ Clara’s eyes softened instantly, but he didn’t want to see that. He looked down at his hands and kept talking instead.
‘Cancer,’ he said harshly, hating the very word. ‘The doctors haven’t given him more than a couple of months. If he’d gone to them sooner...’ He swallowed. ‘Anyway. This is going to be his last Christmas. I want to make it memorable.’
‘Of course you do,’ Clara said, and he felt something inside him relax, just a little. He’d known that she would understand. And what he needed would require more than the sort of competence he could buy. He needed someone who would give everything to his project. Who would do what he needed, just like she always had before.
And, for some reason, Clara had always been very fond of his father.
‘I’m planning a family Christmas up in the Highlands,’ Jacob explained. ‘Just like one we had one year when I was a boy.’
‘I remember you all talking about it once. It sounds perfect,’ Clara agreed. ‘And like you’ve got it all in hand, so I don’t really see why—’
‘That’s it,’ Jacob interrupted her. ‘That idea. That’s all I have.’
‘Oh.’ Clara winced. ‘So you want to hire Perfect London to...?’
‘Do everything else. Organise it. Make it perfect.’ That, she’d always been good at. She’d been the perfect businessman’s wife, the perfect housewife, the perfect beauty on his arm at functions, even the perfect daughter-in-law. Up until the day she wasn’t his perfect anything at all.
‘But...’ Clara started, and he jumped in to stop whatever objection she was conjuring up.
‘I’ll pay, of course. Double your normal rate.’ He’d pay triple to make this happen but he’d keep that information in reserve in case he needed it later.
‘Why?’ Bafflement covered Clara’s expression.
‘Who else?’ Jacob asked. ‘It’s what you do, isn’t it? It’s right there in the name of your company.’ The company she’d left him to build—and which, by the looks of things, seemed to be doing well enough. He’d never even imagined, when they were married, that she’d wanted this—her own business, her own life apart from him. How could he? She’d never told him.
Well. If she was determined to go off and be happy and successful without him, the least she could do was help him out now, when he needed it.
‘Perfect London,’ Clara said, emphasising the second word. ‘We mostly work locally. Very locally.’
‘I imagine that most of the arrangements can be made from here,’ Jacob conceded. ‘Although I would need you in Scotland for the final set-up.’
‘No.’ Clara shook her head. ‘I can’t do that. I have...obligations here. I can’t just leave.’
Obligations. A whole new life, he imagined. A new man...but not her husband, though. That, at least, she couldn’t have. Not unless he let her.
Jacob took a breath and prepared to use his final bargaining chip.
The only thing he had left to give her.
* * *
This made no sense. None at all. Why on earth would Jacob come to her, of all people, to organise this? There must be a hundred other party planners or concierge services he could have gone to. Unless this was a punishment of some sort, Clara could not imagine why her ex-husband would want to hire her for this task.
Except...she knew his family. She knew his father, and could already picture exactly the sort of Christmas he’d want.
Maybe Jacob wasn’t so crazy after all. But that didn’t mean she had to say yes.
She had her own family to think about this Christmas—her and Ivy, celebrating together in gingerbread-man pyjamas and drinking hot chocolate with Merry on Christmas Eve. That was how it had been for the last four years, and the way it would be this Christmas too, thank you very much. She wasn’t going to abandon her daughter to go and arrange Christmas deep in the Highlands, however much Jacob was willing to pay. Especially not with the Harrisons’ gala coming up so soon afterwards.
‘No,’ she said again, just to make it doubly clear. ‘I’m sorry. It’s impossible.’
Except...a small whisper in the back of her mind told her that this could be her chance. Her one opportunity to see if he’d really changed. If Jacob Foster was ready to be a father at last. If she could risk telling him about Ivy, introduce them even, without the fear that Jacob would treat his daughter the way Clara’s own father had treated her.
Even twenty years later, the memory of her father walking out of the front door, without looking back to see Clara waving him goodbye, still made her heart contract. And Jacob had been a champion at forgetting all about his wife whenever work got too absorbing, walking out and forgetting to look back until a deal was signed or a project tied up.
She wouldn’t put Ivy through that, not for anything. She wanted so much more than that for her daughter. Clara might work hard but she always, always had time for her child and always put her first. Ivy would never be an afterthought, never slip through the cracks when something more interesting came up. Even if that meant she only ever had one parent.
But Jacob had come here to organise a family Christmas. The Jacob she’d been married to wouldn’t have even thought of that. Could he really have changed? And could she risk finding out?
‘This Christmas I’d like to have a dad, please.’ Ivy’s whispered words floated through her mind.
She shook her head again, uncertain.
‘What if I promise you a divorce?’ Jacob asked.
For a moment, it was as if the rain had stopped falling outside, as if the world had paused in its turning.
A divorce. She’d be completely free at last. No more imagining a life she no longer possessed. Her new life would truly be hers, clear and free.
It was tempting.
But then reality set in. That divorce would cut the final tie between them—the last link between Ivy and her father. How could she do that before she even told Jacob he had a daughter?
Clara bit the
inside of her cheek as she acknowledged a truth she’d long held at bay. It hadn’t just been Jacob holding up their divorce for five long years. If she’d wanted to push for it she could have, at any time. But she’d always known that she’d have to come clean about Ivy first...and she was terrified.
The risk was always, always there. Jacob might reject them both instantly and walk away, but she could cope with that, she hoped, as long as Ivy didn’t know, didn’t hurt. But what if he wanted to be involved? What if he wanted to meet her, to be a part of her life—and then ignored Ivy the same way he’d kept himself apart from Clara after they were married? What if he hurt Ivy with his distracted, even unintentional, neglect? Nothing had ever meant more to Jacob than his work—not even her. Why would Ivy be any different?
So even if he thought he wanted to be a father...could she really risk Ivy’s heart that way?
No. She had to be sure. And the only way to be certain was to spend time with him, to learn who he was all over again. Then she could decide, either to divorce him freely, or to let him into Ivy’s life, whichever was best for her daughter. That was all that mattered.
But to spend time with him she’d have to organise his perfect family Christmas. Could she really do that? With all her other clients, the Harrisons’ Charity Gala—and her own Christmas with Ivy? It was too much. And she was still too scared.
‘I’m sorry, Jacob. Really I am.’ She was; part of her heart hurt at the thought of James Foster suffering and her not being there to ease it. An even larger part, although she hated to admit it, stung at the idea of Jacob going through this without her too.
That’s not my place any more. It’s not my life.
She had to focus on the life she had, the one she’d built. Her new life for her and Ivy.
‘I can’t help you,’ she said, the words final and heavy.
Jacob gave her a slow, stiff nod. ‘Right. Of course.’ He turned away but as he reached the door he looked back, his eyes so full of sorrow and pain that Clara could have wept. ‘Please. Just think about it.’