‘Callie—’
‘Mother didn’t want me at all, Logan,’ a disgruntled Donald came back into the room. ‘And your—Miss Harris is looking for you.’
Impatience warred with good manners in Logan. ‘All right,’ he sighed at last. ‘I’m just going.’
As usual Donald seemed unaware of the friction around him. ‘How’s Aunt Cissy now?’ he asked cheerfully.
Callie’s gaze sharpened. ‘Is your mother ill?’ she asked Logan concernedly.
‘She slipped in the snow the other night,’ he informed her distantly.
No wonder she wasn’t here tonight. ‘I’m so sorry. Is she all right?’
‘A little bruised, but otherwise fine,’ she nodded.
‘Father would like to talk to you now,’ Donald told Callie eagerly. ‘He’s waiting for you in the library.’
‘A little business discussion?’ Logan drawled.
‘And if it is?’ she challenged.
‘Then maybe I should be there too. Spencer Plastics is a three-way ownership, or have you forgotten?’
She shuddered. ‘No, I haven’t forgotten. But this is private, Mr Carrington.’
‘In other words, mind my own business?’
‘Yes!’
‘Very well,’ he turned on his heel, walking to the door. ‘I’ll see you on Thursday, Caroline.’
‘Thursday?’ she blinked.
‘At the shareholders’ meeting,’ he drawled.
‘Oh—oh yes,’ she nodded. ‘You’ll be acting on your mother’s behalf, as usual?’
‘Of course,’ he nodded arrogantly.
Callie felt less defensive once he had gone, turning to Donald with her composure back intact. ‘Let’s go and talk to your father.’
‘Oh, he doesn’t want me there,’ Donald flushed. ‘He never discusses business with me.’
‘But surely—Never mind,’ she dismissed, deciding that it was none of her business if Donald’s father kept him excluded from business affairs.
It was the first time she had actually spoken to Sir Charles this evening, their few words of polite greeting not really counting as conversation. He was seated in one of the winged armchairs placed either side of the fire, a big cigar in his hand, a look of the cat-that-had-swallowed-the-cream about him. Callie suddenly felt as if she were the fly walking into the spider’s parlour.
Sir Charles stood up as she hesitated in the doorway. ‘Come in, Caroline,’ he beamed. ‘Come in. Sit down,’ he invited.
She did so, taking a long time to arrange her skirts about her, looking up to surprise a contemptuous expression on Sir Charles’ face, something he was quick to try and hide.
‘Let’s get straight to the point,’ she said hardly. ‘You want me to vote in favour of expanding Spencer Plastics. Why should I?’
‘Well, I—I—You’re a bit abrupt, my dear,’ he spluttered in his booming voice.
‘I like to be direct,’ she pinpointed him with steady brown eyes. ‘And I like people to be direct with me. So far I’ve heard all the arguments against, now I want to know your arguments for.’
That Sir Charles resented the necessity to confide anything to a chit of a girl was obvious over the next few minutes; his words were stilted and abrupt. By the time he had finished she was none the wiser, knowing nothing about the industry, despite having read Bill’s in-depth file from cover to cover.