One Last Thing by Melissa Hill

Author:Melissa Hill [Hill, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

34

Jenny studied the list of names on the report on top of her desk. Great, a stack of overdrawn letters to be dictated on top of everything else she had to do today. Her extension buzzed but she finished what she was doing before picking up.

“About time.” She knew that Mike was smiling when he spoke. “I thought you were going to keep me on hold forever.”

She grinned too. “Just ringing for a chat, or does the high-and-mighty director of InTech have a cash-flow problem?”

“Very funny. But that may well be the case after today. Can’t talk long, but I need to ask you a favour.”

“Fire away.” As she listened, Jenny began to doodle on a pad of Post-it notes.

“I’m going to view some houses this evening and wondered if you’d be interested in acting as a second pair of eyes.”

Since moving back for the UK after the divorce, Mike was living in what he called his ‘bachelor pad’ – a rented house in Wicklow. He was keen to move closer to the city and the office, and with Dublin house prices rising at an alarming rate, plus the ongoing success of InTech, the time felt right for him to buy a place of his own.

“Definitely – I’d only love the chance to see how the other half lives,” Jenny teased. “I’m finished here around five – what time will I meet you?”

“Why don’t I pick you up? We can go for a bite somewhere after.”

A little after five, Jenny exited the branch and smiled as she caught sight of his car across the road.

It never failed to amuse her that Mike drove one of those tiny Smart motors when he could easily afford a Merc or Jaguar.

But that was him in a nutshell. Unpretentious and practical, he’d pointed out that he only needed ‘enough room for himself and his laptop’. Jenny idly wondered whether he would apply the same criteria to buying a house. She opened the car door, the scent of his aftershave assaulting her nostrils.

“Phew. Do you have a date tonight or something?” she teased, settling herself in the passenger seat. “What’s with the barrel of Brut?”

“You don’t like it?” He feigned a hurt look. “Your woman in Arnotts told me that I’d have ‘em falling at my feet. And it’s not Brut – I can’t remember the name, Packie something.”

“Keeling over maybe,” she chuckled, “and I think you mean Paco Rabanne.”

“Hmmm, never trust a woman pointing a tester bottle at you,” he said, pulling out into the traffic.

“Where are these houses, then?”

“The estate agent is showing us two in Blackrock – one on Newtownpark Avenue and another close to the seafront.”

“The one on Newtownpark would be easier for the office commute,” Jenny pointed out.

“True – but I kind of fell in love with the view from the other one.”

“You haven’t seen inside though - it could be an awful kip. Online brochures can be deceptive.”

“Which is why I’m bringing you along,” he stated simply. “I need you to keep me on the strait and narrow.

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