‘You’ve literally invented workplace romances, so you can’t kibosh it.’ Rebecca leaned back in her chair. ‘Besides, I heard what you and Nate were doing on your conference table the other week.’
No. Fucking. Way.
Colour shot up her face and Rebecca threw her head back and cackled loudly.
‘Oh my god! It is true! I said to Jack that no, not my Laurel, she wouldn’t do something like that.’
Laurel buried her face in her hands.
‘Oh my god, Jack knows?’
‘Jack knows, Robin knows, your dad doesn’t know, but pretty much everyone on the entire farm knows.’ Rebecca said through bursts of laughter. ‘Don’t worry, I think it’s great, you deserve some happiness.’
‘Does Nate know that everyone knows?’
Forget how good Sylvie was at her job, Robin could go out with her, smash her heart into a million pieces, whatever.
‘Probably, him and Jack are besties now, it’s so weird,’ Rebecca said. ‘But weird in a good way, Jack needs a forward thinking, progressive friend to drag him out of the nineteenth century.’
‘I’m going to kill Sylvie,’ Laurel said, fanning her red face.
Rebecca laughed again.
‘Yeah, best of luck with that.’
‘I’m obviously not going to kill Sylvie,’ she said, pouting.
Subject change, anything to get away from Sylvie walking in on her and Nate on the conference table.
‘Are you coming to the funding meeting presentation thing?’
It would be so nice to have Rebecca there, a bit of support for Jack. It was their farm, and making the funding meeting a success would result in all kinds of untold benefits. Besides, Rebecca could schmooze with the best of them.
‘It’s in the middle of the day, Laurel,’ Rebecca’s lips pursed. ‘I can’t just leave work whenever I feel like it.’
‘Of course. I’m sorry,’ Laurel said. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’
She kicked herself mentally. This had been a longstanding argument between her and Jack. Rebecca couldn’t just up and leave in the middle of the day, couldn’t just drop everything. Rebecca had her own high-flying career, and it was unfair for Laurel to have asked.
Rebecca’s face softened. ‘But I will come after I finish. Will it go on that long?’
‘It should do. There’s a drinks reception after the talk and stuff, so yeah,’ Laurel said, making a mental note to check on the preparations for the buffet and drinks with the cafe.
‘Alright then, I’ll be there, probably with the children. Perhaps I’ll see if the nanny can stay a bit longer and watch them. We’ll see.’ Rebecca sipped her wine.
Another bottle later, and they were both quietly sozzled, and a smidge slurry.
‘Robin,’ Laurel called. ‘Are you going back to the farm or are you being naughty and staying out?’ She giggled, because Drunk Laurel was funny.
‘I’m going back,’ he said, draining his pint. ‘You coming?’ he asked Rebecca.
‘Yes, Robin Fletcher, Sir. I am definitely coming.’ Rebecca stood and flung her jacket on. ‘Come on, Laurel Fletcher. We’ll walk you home.’
Rebecca linked her arm with Laurel’s and marched her out of the pub door, not checking to see whether Robin was following or not.
‘So, I think you and the good doctor are great and I like him for you,’ Rebecca was saying as they meandered down the high street. ‘But I will kill him if he makes you cry, okay? Or certainly give him a stern talking to.’
Now, that was surely a fate worse than death.
