Page 81 of Not So Very Sensible

“I think the person you’re supposed to be doing business with is me,” Nicola snapped. “Do you mean to say that all this time you only wanted to use my services because of one of my employees?”

“Well, er—”

“You’ve been wasting my time, is that it?”

“I needed her to understand that she shouldn’t think she can embroil herself in my brother’s life.”

“Is this the brother who just got himself engaged? I fail to see how Elinor can get in the middle of that. Now, you’ll have to excuse me, as I have real work to do. And I would appreciate prompt payment of my invoice.”

Nicola ended the call and glanced at Ellie. “Did that sound okay?”

“Thank you. But I’m not sure if you’ll see your payment.”

“Then she’ll see my lawyer. Honestly, what is it with people who think they can control the world and control people just because they have money?”

“That’s usually how it works.”

“Hmm. Well, let’s focus on what we have to do now. How are you going with that drawing of the Japanese bridge the Honeymans wanted?”

It was good to have something like a Japanese bridge to focus on. The design for a garden with a large lake with water lilies had the owners wanting to create a garden with a Monet aesthetic, hence the bridge. And while she’d never been to Giverny, she felt her drawing was a fair replica.

And soon she was so lost in design and drawing and thoughts of wanting to visit Japan that the unpleasantness with Ethan’s sister faded. Lord, help me forgive her. And forgive Ethan. And let this go, once and for all.

She just had to leave him in the past and think about the future.

It was time to bite the bullet. Ethan couldn’t pretend to be strong and brave when the last few days he’d put off finally seeing Lucinda. First, because he’d tried to see her on Sunday night and she’d been out. So he’d gone to church instead and found it soul refreshing, and a reminder of what was important—doing what he could to see lives transformed for the kingdom of God.

Then the same thing had happened on Monday. He’d tried to call to set up a time, but Lucinda had messaged back to say it was one of her mum’s sick days, and she was needed at home to care for her. And while he felt compassion for Christine, he also felt like it was an inconvenient coincidence.

And yet perhaps not such a strange coincidence when the same thing happened on Tuesday. And again on Wednesday. He was almost inclined to drop in at her house and surprise her, because it very much seemed like she’d been warned that he was coming to break things off. And he wouldn’t put it past his sister to do something like that.

But now it was Thursday, and miracle of miracles, Lucinda had said she was in and would love to see him. So he knocked on the Steeles’ front door, surprised when it opened immediately.

“Ethan!”

He caught a glimpse of Lucinda’s look of glee before she rushed in to kiss him. He choked, pushing her back. “Lucinda, stop. This has gone on long enough.”

“What? You’ve only just got here.” She grinned, then tugged him inside. “Come say hi to Mum and Dad. Oh, wasn’t last Saturday night wonderful? Everyone had such a great time.”

But that note of desperation sounded like she knew why he was here. He found a tight smile, nodded to her parents, answering their questions about his week as politely as he could.

Yet politeness had perhaps been the curse that had got him into this mess in the first place. He should have been stronger, should have stood up for what he believed. So as soon as he could, he turned to her and asked to speak privately.

“Oh, I’m sure anything you have to say can be said in front of my parents.”

Yeah, no. “I’m sure your parents would appreciate that we might need a moment alone, occasionally.”

Oh, he hated the look of hope in Christine’s eye as she smiled and gave her blessing. He hated to hurt her, even if it had to be done.

Lucinda took him to the kitchen, where the smells of many a dinner he’d eaten here seemed to lace the air. She tried to kiss him again, but he gently pushed her away.

“Lucinda, I’m sorry, but this can’t go on.”

“You keep saying that. What can’t?”

“You. Me. This fake engagement. It’s wrong. I’m not going to marry you.”

“But—”