Logan

I hadn’t expected to crave the countryside. I was looking forward to seeing my grandmother this weekend, but more than that, I wanted to be surrounded by trees, grass and blue skies rather than brick, glass and tarmac. The air was cleaner, the pace slower—colors seemed brighter, the smiles more genuine.

The week in London had taken its toll, and by Friday afternoon I couldn’t wait to get back to Badsley House. The helicopter landed in the gardens and the stress of the day began to slip away. It was also nice to get distance from my business. I left Badsley more focused, and found I looked at problems with a fresh perspective when I returned to work.

I waved at my grandmother, who was sitting out on the terrace. It was good to see her so happy here. After Darcy’s visit, she’d had a number of visitors drop by and she seemed to be enjoying being back home.

Dipping my head, I headed over to the terrace from the helicopter, I saw my grandmother had a visitor. But it wasn’t Darcy Westbury this time.

“Hello, darling, come and join Patricia and me for some tea,” my grandmother said as I approached, kissed her on the cheek, then shook hands with our visitor, a slight woman who I’d estimate was in her early sixties.

“Delighted to meet you, Patricia,” I said.

“And you. I’ve heard so much about you, so it’s nice to be able to put a face to a name.”

“Patricia’s come to ask us a favor,” my grandmother said.

“Really?” I asked. “What can we do?” I asked, pulling up a chair.

“Well, I’m chair of the local fundraising committee for our mobile library, and I was hoping for your support.”

“Of course, how can I help?” I crossed one leg over the other, letting the sun soak into my face, the week’s strain chased away by the warmth.

“We have a fundraising target of fifteen thousand pounds this year. Those funds go toward maintenance of the truck that transports the books and payment of the driver.”

“I’m happy to donate. I can let you have a check. But what can I do that’s more practical? I have a contact at one of the big publishers. I can see if they have any books that might add to your stock.”

Patricia set her teacup down. “Well, that would be simply wonderful. Our readers tend to enjoy fiction, especially cozy mysteries, but anything would be a bonus. Thank you. Of course, we’d love to have you on our committee if you can spare the time.”

The cogs in my brain started whirring. Since I’d last seen Darcy, her words “game on” had echoed in my brain. There was little doubt that she didn’t like the plans I had for Manor House Club, and although I’d already decided to try to talk her through what I hoped to achieve, I wasn’t convinced I’d have her on side by the end of it. I expected opposition and knowing who my opponents were and why they took the position they did helped me form an offense and defense. I needed to get to know some of the Woolton villagers better. But I didn’t have the time and I didn’t make commitments that I wasn’t sure I could fulfill.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m not sure I can commit to a position on the committee. I have a number of members of my team who I know would jump at the opportunity and are even better than me at coming up with creative solutions to problems.”

Her cup at her lips, Patricia froze, her eyes wide. “That’s a lovely thought, but we only have local people on the committee.”

She probably thought I was an arsehole for trying to delegate a place on the committee, but realistically, there was no way I could be a regular attendee at meetings. And I didn’t half do things or say I was going to do something and then let people down. That was my father. Not me. “Well, perhaps I could come along as your guest, Patricia. Not a member, but just someone who might be able to help. Every six months or so.”

“Wonderful,” she said. “We need fresh ideas on the committee, and we’re thrilled you want to be part of our village. There’s a meeting tomorrow morning at ten if you’re free.”

“I’ll make sure I am.” Darcy wouldn’t expect me to get to know the villagers. She’d count on having more influence with them, but if I made an effort to get to know them, I could at least communicate my point of view. Maybe even gain a few supporters. I’d had the best lawyers draw up the application to the Parish Council so I’d have the best possible chance of fulfilling any technical requirements, but I also understood that the first step in any planning process was easily influenced by the non-technical.

“I’ll take you down to the farm shop before the meeting, Granny. Then drop you back.”

“Oh, that’s so nice that you support our village farm shop,” Patricia said.

“Of course. We’re a big supporter of local producers. We want to be a real part of the village.”

Patricia beamed. “Well, I’m excited for you to get involved.”

“As am I. Now, if you’ll excuse me while I change into my comfortable clothes? I never feel quite like me in a suit.” Perhaps I was laying it on a little thick, but I wanted to be sure there was an alternate argument in circulation when Darcy began to paint me as a corporate monster.

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

I slipped into the house, ready for a hot shower. I always felt dirty when arriving back at Badsley from London, so I hadn’t really lied about being uncomfortable in my suit. I’d never found myself feeling that way before spending my weekends in the country. But I found myself wearing ties less and less often, even when I was back in London. Here in Woolton, I was more comfortable in jeans and a shirt. And I was genuinely pleased to help out the fundraising committee. And if it made the likelihood of the village accepting Manor House Club, then all the better.