But they got over it.’
On the surface at least. The very worst part of being ill had been the despair in his parents’ faces whenever they thought he wasn’t watching. Or the forced positivity when they knew he was. It made it hard to say no to them.
‘You’re the son and heir.’ There was no hiding the bitterness in her words. ‘Of course they expect a lot.’
His mouth curved into a wry smile. ‘Son?
Oui.
Heir? That remains to be seen. Celine is studying vineyard management in New Zealand and Claire is doing a very good job of opening the chateau up to guests and tourists while presenting them with a perfect trio of grandchildren.’
‘Three!’ She straightened up, pulling her hair back into a knot as she did so. He watched, fascinated, as she gathered up the silky golden strands and twisted them ruthlessly, tucking the end under. It wouldn’t take much to make it spill free. Just one touch.
‘Three in three years,’ he confirmed. ‘And Natalie is expecting her second. She takes care of all the advertising and marketing. So you see I have some formidable rivals for the vineyard. If I wanted it that is.’
‘Isn’t it funny? You and Raff could have it all on a plate. And you don’t even want it.’
‘We still have to work,’ he argued. ‘No one I work with cares what my parents do. Raff had to work his way up at Doctors Everywhere. It’s exactly the same. Pass me a plate, will you?’
Polly got up and took two plates off the dresser, handing them over. Gabe shredded some lettuce and added a couple of tomatoes before cutting the omelette in half and sliding it onto a plate.
‘Voilà,’
he said, sliding it towards her.
‘Thanks, Gabe, this looks great.’ Her hair was coming loose and she gathered it up again, beginning the familiar twisting motion as she re-knotted it, before picking up her fork.
‘I have worked at Rafferty’s since I was legally allowed to get a job. Before that I spent every moment there.’ Her voice was wistful, filled with love.
Gabe pictured the iconic store, its large dome and art deco façade dominating the expensive London street on which it was situated. It was always busy, exuding wealth and glamour and style. Exciting and as restless as its patrons, prowling in search of the bag, the outfit, the décor that would make them unique, special. It was easy to see why she loved it.
But then his mind turned to the chateau, to the acres and acres of vines, the scent of lavender and the scarlet flash of poppies. The old grey building, covered in ivy. He loved the buzz of retail but had to admit that no shop, no matter how magical, could match his home. The look in her eyes, the note in her voice spoke of the same deep connection.
‘It’s your home,’ he said.
‘Yes!’ Polly pointed her fork at him. ‘That’s it. But only temporarily. It was made very clear to me that I could work there but it was never going to be mine. Grandfather even wanted me to study History of Art instead of business, not that I took any notice of him.’
So much dwelling on the past; if Gabe had done that he would still be in Provence, weeping in the graveyard. ‘But now look at you. In charge of the whole store.’
Polly took a bite of the omelette, her face thoughtful. ‘I told you I went away to find myself. The truth is I had no choice. Grandfather came to see me three months ago and told me he was signing Rafferty’s over to Raff.’ She laughed but there was no humour in the sound.
‘My ex had just got engaged and Grandfather was concerned for me, or so he said. He thought I was leaving it too late, “letting the good ones get away”.’ She swallowed. ‘He said it was for my own good—I should concentrate on marriage, have children before it’s too late.’
‘That was unkind.’
‘It hurt me.’ It obviously still did, her voice and her face full of pain. ‘So I left my job, my home and I went away to try and work out who I was without Rafferty’s. But then
On the surface at least. The very worst part of being ill had been the despair in his parents’ faces whenever they thought he wasn’t watching. Or the forced positivity when they knew he was. It made it hard to say no to them.
‘You’re the son and heir.’ There was no hiding the bitterness in her words. ‘Of course they expect a lot.’
His mouth curved into a wry smile. ‘Son?
Oui.
Heir? That remains to be seen. Celine is studying vineyard management in New Zealand and Claire is doing a very good job of opening the chateau up to guests and tourists while presenting them with a perfect trio of grandchildren.’
‘Three!’ She straightened up, pulling her hair back into a knot as she did so. He watched, fascinated, as she gathered up the silky golden strands and twisted them ruthlessly, tucking the end under. It wouldn’t take much to make it spill free. Just one touch.
‘Three in three years,’ he confirmed. ‘And Natalie is expecting her second. She takes care of all the advertising and marketing. So you see I have some formidable rivals for the vineyard. If I wanted it that is.’
‘Isn’t it funny? You and Raff could have it all on a plate. And you don’t even want it.’
‘We still have to work,’ he argued. ‘No one I work with cares what my parents do. Raff had to work his way up at Doctors Everywhere. It’s exactly the same. Pass me a plate, will you?’
Polly got up and took two plates off the dresser, handing them over. Gabe shredded some lettuce and added a couple of tomatoes before cutting the omelette in half and sliding it onto a plate.
‘Voilà,’
he said, sliding it towards her.
‘Thanks, Gabe, this looks great.’ Her hair was coming loose and she gathered it up again, beginning the familiar twisting motion as she re-knotted it, before picking up her fork.
‘I have worked at Rafferty’s since I was legally allowed to get a job. Before that I spent every moment there.’ Her voice was wistful, filled with love.
Gabe pictured the iconic store, its large dome and art deco façade dominating the expensive London street on which it was situated. It was always busy, exuding wealth and glamour and style. Exciting and as restless as its patrons, prowling in search of the bag, the outfit, the décor that would make them unique, special. It was easy to see why she loved it.
But then his mind turned to the chateau, to the acres and acres of vines, the scent of lavender and the scarlet flash of poppies. The old grey building, covered in ivy. He loved the buzz of retail but had to admit that no shop, no matter how magical, could match his home. The look in her eyes, the note in her voice spoke of the same deep connection.
‘It’s your home,’ he said.
‘Yes!’ Polly pointed her fork at him. ‘That’s it. But only temporarily. It was made very clear to me that I could work there but it was never going to be mine. Grandfather even wanted me to study History of Art instead of business, not that I took any notice of him.’
So much dwelling on the past; if Gabe had done that he would still be in Provence, weeping in the graveyard. ‘But now look at you. In charge of the whole store.’
Polly took a bite of the omelette, her face thoughtful. ‘I told you I went away to find myself. The truth is I had no choice. Grandfather came to see me three months ago and told me he was signing Rafferty’s over to Raff.’ She laughed but there was no humour in the sound.
‘My ex had just got engaged and Grandfather was concerned for me, or so he said. He thought I was leaving it too late, “letting the good ones get away”.’ She swallowed. ‘He said it was for my own good—I should concentrate on marriage, have children before it’s too late.’
‘That was unkind.’
‘It hurt me.’ It obviously still did, her voice and her face full of pain. ‘So I left my job, my home and I went away to try and work out who I was without Rafferty’s. But then
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