Falling For The Secret Millionaire. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
Brian Thomas had left the cinema to her: to the grandchild he’d rejected before she’d even been born.
Why?
Guilt, because he knew he’d behaved badly and should’ve been much more supportive to his only daughter? But, if he’d wanted to make amends, surely he would’ve left the cinema to Nicole’s mother? Or was this his way to try to drive a wedge between Susan and Nicole?
Nicole shook herself. Clearly she’d been working in banking for too long, to be this cynical about a stranger’s motivations.
‘It’s actually not that far from where you live,’ the solicitor continued. ‘It’s in Surrey Quays.’
Suddenly Nicole knew exactly what and where the cinema was. ‘You mean the old Electric Palace on Mortimer Gardens?’
‘You know it?’ He looked surprised.
‘I walk past it every day on my way to work,’ she said. In the three years she’d been living in Surrey Quays, she’d always thought the old cinema a gorgeous building, and it was a shame that the place was neglected and boarded up. She hadn’t had a clue that the cinema had any connection with her at all. Though there was a local history thread in the Surrey Quays forum—the local community website she’d joined when she’d first moved to her flat in Docklands—which included several posts about the Electric Palace’s past. Someone had suggested setting up a volunteer group to get the cinema back up and running again, except nobody knew who owned it.
Nicole had the answer to that now. She was the new owner of the Electric Palace. And it was the last thing she’d ever expected.
‘So you know what you’re taking on, then,’ the solicitor said brightly.
Taking on? She hadn’t even decided whether to accept the bequest yet, let alone what she was going to do with it.
‘Or,’ the solicitor continued, ‘if you don’t want to take it on, there is another option. A local development company has been in touch with us, expressing interest in buying the site, should you wish to sell. It’s a fair offer.’
‘I need a little time to think this through before I make any decisions,’ Nicole said.
‘Of course, Miss Thomas. That’s very sensible.’
Nicole smiled politely, though she itched to remind the solicitor that she was twenty-eight years old, not eight. She wasn’t a naive schoolgirl, either: she’d worked her way up from the bottom rung of the ladder to become a manager in an investment bank. Sensible was her default setting. Was it not obvious from her tailored business suit and low-heeled shoes, and in the way she wore her hair pinned back for work?
‘Now, the keys.’ He handed her a bunch of ancient-looking keys. ‘We will of course need time to alter the deeds, should you decide to keep it. Otherwise we can handle the conveyancing of the property, should you decide to sell to the developer or to someone else. We’ll wait for your instructions.’
‘Thank you,’ Nicole said, sliding the keys into her handbag. She still couldn’t quite believe she owned the Electric Palace.
‘Thank you for coming in to see us,’ the solicitor continued. ‘We’ll be in touch with the paperwork.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you. I’ll call you if there’s anything I’m unsure about when I get it.’
‘Good, good.’ He gave her another of those avuncular smiles.
As soon as Nicole had left the office, she grabbed her phone from her bag and called her mother—the one person she really needed to talk to about the bequest. But the call went straight through to Susan’s voicemail. Then again, at this time of day her mother would be in a meeting or with one of her probationers. Nicole’s best friend Jessie, an English teacher, was knee-deep in exam revision sessions with her students, so she wouldn’t be free to talk to Nicole about the situation until the end of the day. And Nicole definitely didn’t want to discuss this with anyone from work; she knew they’d all tell her to sell the place to the company who wanted to buy it, for the highest price she could get, and to keep the money.
Her head was spinning. Maybe she would sell the cinema—after all, what did she know about running a cinema, let alone one that hadn’t been in operation for the last five years and looked as if it needed an awful lot of work doing to it before it could open its doors again? But, if she did sell the Electric Palace, she had no intention of keeping the money. As far as she was concerned, any money from Brian Thomas ought to go to his daughter, not skip a generation. Susan Thomas had spent years struggling as a single mother, working three jobs to pay the rent when Nicole was tiny. If the developer really was offering a fair price, it could give Susan the money to pay off her mortgage, go on a good holiday and buy a new car. Though Nicole knew she’d have to work hard to convince her mother that she deserved the money; plus Susan might be even more loath to accept anything from her father on the grounds that it was way too late.
Or Nicole could refuse the bequest on principle. Brian Thomas had never been part of her life or shown any interest in her. Why should she be interested in his money now?
She sighed. What she really needed right now was some decent caffeine and the space to talk this through with someone. There was only one person other than her mother and Jessie whose advice she trusted. Would he be around? She found the nearest coffee shop, ordered her usual double espresso, then settled down at a quiet table and flicked into the messaging program on her phone. Clarence was probably busy, but then again if she’d caught him on his lunch break he might have time to talk.
In the six months since they’d first met on the Surrey Quays forum, they’d become close and they talked online every day. They’d never actually met in person; and, right from the first time he’d sent her a private message, they’d agreed that they wouldn’t share personal details that identified them, so they’d stuck to their forum names of Georgygirl and Clarence. She had no idea what he even looked like—she could have passed him in the street at any time during the three years she’d been living at Surrey Quays. In some ways it was a kind of coded, secret relationship, but at the same time Nicole felt that Clarence knew the real her. Not the corporate ghost who spent way too many hours in the office, or the much-loved daughter and best friend who was always nagged about working too hard, but the real Nicole. He knew the one who wondered about the universe and dreamed of the stars. Late at night, she’d told him things she’d never told anyone else, even her mother or Jessie.
Maybe Clarence could help her work out the right thing to do.
She typed a message and mentally crossed her fingers as she sent it.
Hey, Clarence, you around?
Gabriel Hunter closed his father’s office door behind him and walked down the corridor as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
What he really wanted to do was to beat his fists against the walls in sheer frustration. When, when, when was he going to stop paying for his teenage mistake?
OK, so it had been an awful lot worse than the usual teenage mistakes—he’d crashed his car into a shop front one night on the way home from a party and done a lot of damage. But nobody had been physically hurt and he’d learned his lesson immediately. He’d stopped going round with the crowd who’d thought it would be fun to spike his drink when he was their designated driver. He’d knuckled down to his studies instead of spending most of his time partying, and at the end of his final exams he’d got one of the highest Firsts the university had ever awarded. Since then, he’d proved his worth over and over again in the family business. Time after time he’d bitten his tongue so he didn’t get into a row with his father. He’d toed the party line. Done what was expected of him, constantly repented for his sins to atone in his father’s eyes.
And his father still didn’t trust him. All Gabriel ever saw in his father’s eyes was ‘I saved you from yourself’. Was Evan Hunter only capable of seeing his son as the stupid teenager