From Heiress To Mum. Therese Beharrie
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anchor’s weight. It had felt as if he’d been living under water from that moment forward.
Then he’d met Autumn, and he’d felt as if he’d been given air for the first time in almost two decades. Which was why he’d allowed their relationship to go on for longer than he should have. After a year of dating, she’d brought up their future together. The year that had followed had been a slow decline into the realisation that he couldn’t have what he wanted with Autumn.
And he’d sunk right back into the ocean, reaching the floor of it when they broke up. He could almost understand why he’d looked for a lifeline in a random woman one night.
Not that it had worked. But it had brought him here again. With her. Predictably, he felt as if he was breathing again.
‘The reason I bring it up,’ Autumn said after a moment, ‘is because she’ll recognise me.’
His mind took some time to follow. ‘Okay,’ he said slowly. ‘We’re friends.’
‘Do you think she’s going to believe that?’
‘She won’t care.’
Her eyes had gone serious, and didn’t waver from his. ‘How sure are you about that?’
He searched her face. Saw what she needed to hear. ‘One hundred per cent. There’s nothing there beside this connection. The child.’
My son.
She didn’t reply immediately.
‘We’ll see.’
‘Autumn—’
‘No, Hunter,’ she interrupted with a tight smile. ‘It’s fine. If you think this isn’t going to be a problem, then I’ll help you get settled with the baby.’
For how long? He didn’t ask it. She was giving him something here. Because of it, he felt stronger. More in control. Not like every force in the world had turned on him. So he would give her something, too.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow with the details.’
‘Fine.’
‘And I’ll leave.’ He stood, then stilled when she shook her head. ‘What?’
‘It’s after midnight. You’re physically and emotionally drained. You can’t leave.’
His heart thumped. ‘What’s the alternative?’
‘You stay here. In the spare bedroom,’ she said wryly, when his mouth curved. He’d been planning on teasing her—heaven only knew why—and she’d caught him in it.
Instead, he said, ‘I don’t have to do that.’
‘Yes, you do. I’m not interested in getting phone calls about your death.’ Now she stood, picked up the tray. ‘Down the passage, third door to the left.’ Her eyes met his. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘WAS THAT—? DID I see Hunter’s car leave as I drove in?’ Mandy asked as she walked into the bakery’s kitchen the next morning.
Autumn’s back was facing Mandy, so she allowed herself a quick breath and silent moan that Hunter hadn’t left before her pastry chef had arrived at work. The rest of her team were already there, bustling in and out of the kitchen as they prepared for the breakfast rush that would soon begin. Autumn took another breath, then turned to Mandy with a smile.
‘Yes,’ she said brightly. ‘He came over last night for dinner.’
Mandy’s eyes narrowed. ‘And he’s only leaving this morning...?’
‘We finished late, and we’d been drinking.’
‘Hmm.’
Ignoring the disbelieving tone of the woman she considered a friend, Autumn quickly changed the subject.
‘Give me highlights of what I missed this weekend. Then tell me how the Thompson wedding cake is coming along.’
‘Good morning to you, too.’
‘You were the one who came in here without a greeting.’
Mandy sent her a look, then launched into a concise report as she got ready for work. It had been that kind of efficiency that had helped Mandy work her way up to pastry chef in the six years since Autumn had started the bakery.
If she was honest, it felt like longer than that. Perhaps because she’d spent most of her childhood in the kitchen. At first, it had been out of curiosity. She’d strolled down to the kitchen as the staff had been preparing for one of her parents’ numerous parties, and had found herself hypnotised.
The pastries had drawn her attention almost immediately. She’d loved the colours and the smell of them; wondered at the skill and caution they were being decorated with. When one of the chefs had encouraged her to join in, starting her off slowly, patiently, she’d fallen in love with the creation process. And her parents’ parties had become a way for her to participate in something she loved.
Later, it had been a chance to contribute to the functions in the only way she could. When she’d got older she’d realised the parties weren’t only social events, but networking opportunities. Autumn didn’t have Summer’s business acumen, nor did she have the professional knowledge her father had invested into her sister. She couldn’t talk potential foreign or domestic clients. She had no idea about the details of global merchandise and distribution.
So she baked. And when she left the kitchen, she charmed. And felt like a failure for it.
The smell of sweetness and coffee mingled with the faint freshness of the fields around the bakery usually comforted her. Today, her thoughts turned them sour. For a moment, they even tarnished the efforts she’d put into creating her bakery. The stained cement floors and wooden panelling looked dull. The natural light and countryside atmosphere she’d incorporated when renovating the barn felt kitschy. So did the neat rock-filled paths leading to the bakery; the gardens beyond it.
She’d thought it such a good idea. A cute bakery and café with great food and even better desserts a short trip outside Cape Town that felt like the middle of nowhere. Now, she doubted it. Her memories of growing up tended to do that.
They were always accompanied by the comparisons, starting much earlier than she could even remember. All she knew was that the visits to Bishop Enterprises hadn’t been for her benefit. That her questions hadn’t been answered in the same way that Summer’s had. That the there, there nature of the response to her complaints to her mother had been meant to placate her. And that being sent to the kitchen to ‘bake something’ had been to distract her.
Any desire she might have had to join the family business had been stifled then already. But it had been well and truly shattered after her father’s affair.
When Summer had found out Trevor Bishop had cheated, she’d pulled away from him. From Autumn and their mother, too. Autumn knew now that was because Trevor had asked Summer to keep the affair a secret, which had been a burden Summer had carried with her for years. Autumn had only discovered that this past weekend, at their parents’ thirtieth anniversary.
It had upset her. Not because of her father’s actions, though those weren’t great. No, she was upset that Summer had kept the truth from her. And she was worried about what she’d done to bring that about.
Autumn was sure Summer didn’t know she harboured a tiny bit of resentment towards Summer because their parents preferred her. But what if she did know?
Autumn had pushed the concerns aside during the weekend. It hadn’t been important then anyway. Summer had needed her. Autumn might have been jealous of Summer—only a tiny bit—but she would be there for her sister.