‘Nate. We’re meeting for a drink later. He’s got “news” about the BAS apparently.’
‘Laurel,’ Rebecca trailed off, tilting her head to the side.
‘I know, I know! I’m not putting myself out there to be shot down.’ Again.
Rebecca pursed her lips. ‘I’m not saying you shouldn’t put yourself out there, I’m just worried about you being hurt.’ She took Laurel’s hands over the table. ‘I want you to be happy, that’s all.’
‘I know.’ Laurel squeezed Rebecca’s hands. ‘If he’s attracted to me, he can make the first move.’
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. ‘Okay.’
‘And if he’s not, then he won’t.’ Laurel shrugged.
‘You’re giving a man an awful lot of credit. Men are stupid. They don’t know what they want and half the time they don’t know a good thing if it slapped them around the face.’
Laurel smiled. ‘He’s very highly educated. I’m sure he can make up his own mind.’
‘The educated ones are the worst!’ Rebecca grinned. ‘They have absolutely no common sense.’
The spectre of Alex and the power he held over her niggled at her brain.
‘What if it’s bad news?’
‘Tell me exactly? I’m not sure I follow,’ Rebecca said, giving Laurel her full attention.
Laurel explained that the gold brooch that had been found was probably a part of something bigger, a burial perhaps. If the British Archaeological Society, aka Alex, said ‘yes, Little Willow Farm dig site is of special historical importance’, then English Heritage would want to be involved. English Heritage came with funding for the dig, and for the farm; compensation for losing their field to the dig site. There would be media interest, academic interest, there would be grants that the farm could apply for – all with that little piece of paper from Alex that said ‘yes, this site is important’.
‘If it is a burial site, can you imagine?’ Laurel asked. ‘We could have an immersive history area, a living museum, a gift shop, all of it funded, or part-funded, by grants or English Heritage. Think of the money it would bring into the farm. You could go on holiday, because we could afford a thousand farm hands to do Jack’s job.’
Rebecca nodded slowly, her lawyer’s brain working. ‘If it’s bad news, you’ll deal with it, like you always do.’
Yeah, like she always did. Her stomach sank a little at that because just once it would be nice if everything went smoothly. It would be nice if she didn’t have to deal with it like she always did. God, what she wouldn’t give for a weekend off.
‘But, more importantly than that...’ Rebecca flicked her eyes over the ball pit. ‘What are you going to wear tonight?’
Laurel scoffed. ‘It’s not a date, Rebecca.’
‘No, but it’s an opportunity to show Dr Daley what he’s missing.’
Laurel chewed on her lip. She didn’t want him to think she was trying too hard.
‘I’ve got a beautiful silk top, classy, high neck, sleeveless. Perfect with jeans and sandals. You should—’ Rebecca stopped mid flow. ‘Lila! You throw balls at your brother once more and you will be going to bed without dessert tonight!’
‘Rebecca, if it’s see-through or super revealing, I’ll kill you, okay?’
‘You’ll look chic, classy and absolutely perfect,’ her sister-in-law winked at her. ‘I promise.’
Nate
Laurel was not on time. Or perhaps he was just early? But no, she’d been late to the pub when they were celebrating the first significant find. She was always early in the office, so what was it about the pub? Also, she lived up the road.
Nate checked his watch, again, before sipping his half-drained pint. There was a pint of lager on the little round table for Laurel, but for all he knew she was in a random mood and wanted Malibu and orange, or an espresso martini or something. Not that they would serve espresso martinis in the Dog & Gun.
His leg bounced impatiently and he glanced out the window up the road to see if he could spot her. Ah, there she was, rushing across the forecourt, past the benches and a smattering of locals and students. She was slightly flustered as she bustled into the pub, quickly making her way over his table and giving him a grin.
‘Hey, sorry I’m late. Got a bit caught up.’ Laurel sat and gestured to the lager. ‘Is that for me?’
‘Go ahead,’ he said, and she gulped back a large swig. ‘How was your day?’
