The Theotokis Inheritance. Susanne James
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‘all its goods and chattels’ would be no more than a blot of ink on Oscar’s personal portfolio, and he was no doubt thinking that he could well do without this annoying interruption in his life, especially as it was going to include someone else—her! She lifted her chin.
‘First of all, I think we need to discuss one or two things,’ she said calmly. She paused. ‘I happen to know that Isobel’s personal belongings were tremendously important to her, and we should consider that point very carefully.’ Mulberry Court was full of treasures—as well as those priceless figurines—which Isobel Theotokis had brought home from all the travelling she’d done in her life.
‘Oh, valuers—experts in the trade—will deal with all the paintings and antiques. They’ll ensure that everything’s sold appropriately,’ Oscar began. ‘At least we can start to sort that out straight away.’
Helena frowned briefly. How typically masculine! He had no problem with Isobel’s cherished belongings being handed over to complete strangers to ‘deal’ with, without a thought as to what everything had meant to the old lady. Well, Helena wasn’t having that. She had spent so many happy hours at Mulberry Court when she’d been growing up—had almost been like the child Isobel had never had.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said. ‘I think that that part of the equation should be our responsibility alone, without the input of strangers.’
Oscar raised his eyebrows—more in surprise that Helena had voiced her opinion than what she’d actually said. He shrugged.
‘Well, yes, perhaps,’ he said reluctantly, accepting for the first time that they both had to agree on everything before any action could be taken. ‘But I’m afraid my time here is very limited. I’m due back in Greece by the end of the month, though I expect to be in the London office until then.’ He paused. ‘What about your own commitments?’ he asked. ‘I remember Isobel mentioning that you live and work in London.’
Helena nodded. ‘I head the team at the Harcourt Employment Agency at the moment,’ she said, ‘but I have started looking for something else.’ She bit her lip. So far, she’d found nothing which offered anything comparable with her present salary, nor the lovely mews cottage she was renting as part of the deal.
‘You’re not happy there?’ Oscar asked briefly.
Helena paused before answering. ‘It’s just… just that I think it’s time for a change,’ she replied guardedly.
There was silence for a moment, then, ‘I could come back this weekend—if you’re free as well,’ Oscar said. ‘A couple of days should be enough to give us a clear picture of what has to be done.’
‘As it happens I am free, and it would be a start,’ Helena said, ‘but it’s bound to take some time, and we shouldn’t rush things.’ She paused. ‘I intend to take the matter very seriously—and do my utmost for Isobel… in her memory,’ she added.
She began walking across to where she’d parked her car, with Oscar following, and she opened her bag. ‘In the meantime,’ she said, ‘if you think you need to contact me, here’s my card.’
He glanced at it briefly, then withdrew his own from his wallet and handed it to her, and without even looking at it Helena slipped it into her bag.
‘I must get back,’ she said, glancing at her watch. ‘The roads are going to be a lot busier than they were this morning.’
He held open her door for her, and as she got in she looked up at him through the open window, wondering if she should apologize for the situation they’d found themselves in—the situation that he’d been landed in. But before a single word had formed on her lips, Helena checked herself. She had nothing to say sorry for. Isobel Theotokis had every right to dispose of her property in whichever way she wanted.
‘So—I’ll come back down on Friday night,’ she said, ‘and that’ll give us Saturday and Sunday to have a proper discussion and look over the house.’ She switched on the engine. ‘I’ll book myself a room locally,’ she added.
‘I’ll have to stay somewhere myself,’ he said casually, ‘so I’ll see to it. I’ll leave you a message to let you know the arrangements.’
‘Oh… OK. Fine. Thanks,’ Helena said, and with a brief wave of her hand she began driving slowly out of the car park, glancing in her rear-view mirror to see Oscar standing there, watching her go. She’d love to have been able to read his mind! So far he’d been cool, almost impassive, at their news, and once or twice she’d caught him staring at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. But it was good that there’d been no obvious sense of awkwardness between them, she thought, though there wasn’t much doubt that he was wishing he was now the sole owner of Mulberry Court.
As she began her journey back to London, Helena felt mightily relieved to be alone with her thoughts. She, Helena Kingston, had just been left a fortune, and it was like winning a lottery she’d never entered. But was she prepared for such wealth? Her beloved father, a widower for many years, having lost his wife when Helena had been just ten, had left a very modest inheritance for his only child. Money which she had put aside for the day when she might need it for something special. And so far she never had, thanks to her successful career.
But quite apart from everything else—apart from even the amazing legacy she had just received—there was another problem she had to face: she and Oscar were going to have to spend time together again under totally bizarre circumstances. This wasn’t ten years ago when they’d both been young and carefree and so in love, something which had been so important then, but which would be utterly embarrassing to even mention now. Did he remember any of it? she wondered. Did he remember all the time they’d spent walking, talking, kissing and enjoying spending time with each other? How could either of them pretend it had never happened? Helena made a face to herself. If he did remember any of it, he’d also have to remember how he’d dumped her—but then, he’d probably dumped so many other women since, she was just another note on whatever mental record he kept of his love life.
As Oscar got into his own car, his feelings were in turmoil. Because it had given his emotions a huge and undeniable jolt to see Helena today.
His handsome brow creased into a frown and his hands, tense on the steering wheel, became pale under his grip as he sat there for a few moments, deep in thought.
What had he done to her? What had he done to himself, to them both? Why had he allowed fate to rule their lives? Because when he had looked down into her wide, misty eyes, he was aware of his heart exploding into a million painful fragments of regret. The heart which had taken so long to heal had shattered again, renewing his sense of loss.
Over time, Oscar had managed to convince himself that he would probably never see Helena again. But he’d thought about her often enough, wondered who she’d married, how many beautiful children she might have. And while trying to concentrate on what was going on around them today, he’d automatically noted that there was no gold band on her ring finger and every male instinct he possessed had urged him to pull her up towards him, to enfold her, to taste her mouth again.
But he knew that would not have gone down very well. Why would she ever want him near her again? A nerve clenched in his strong jaw as his thoughts ran on.
Of course, it was not unexpected that he should be named as a beneficiary in his great-aunt’s will because he was now the only member of his generation left—he’d never had siblings and his two cousins had been killed in a multiple car crash. But although he’d always known that Isobel had been very fond of Helena, the will had taken him by surprise, he admitted. Not that he cared a jot about having to share the value involved; that was irrelevant. Great wealth had never interested him in a personal sense. It was only the continuing success of the family firm that was important—ever since he’d realized that it was his destiny.
Destiny. Oscar’s lip curled briefly. There was still one, more vital, personal expectation of him which he had so far not fulfilled. To find himself a suitable wife. And if his father—Georgios—had