Page 37 of One Last Gift

“I think so,” Cassie said slowly. The word “defeat” had initially made her think of boxing, but somehow she couldn’t equate boxing with her brother—it just wasn’t his sort of thing. Besides, it was a team event, unless there was something she was missing. The only thing she could be certain of was that it was referring to something that happened in spring, and that there were teams—which could be sport, as Amy said. She’d googled soccer because it seemed the most obvious—Tom and Sam had played soccer at school, and going to a soccer match was something she’d never done before, but there were loads of matches on in spring and she had no idea how she was supposed to know which one it would be. She’d tried them all after that—rugby, hockey, cricket. But nothing had jumped out at her as some big event—an event that Tom must have assumed she’d know about.

“Blue,” Amy said, tapping her fingernails against her mug. “Like second place? Isn’t it red for first, blue for second?”

Cassie frowned—she hadn’t thought of it that way. Was she supposed to be looking for a team that always came second or something? Worth a try, for sure—as long as she wasn’t too late. The sense of time passing—of spring passing—pressed down on her, though she tried to hide it from Amy.

“I reckon you’ll get it,” Amy said confidently. “You haven’t ever not finished one before, right?”

“No, but I always had Tom there to help me in person if I got stuck.” Both of them went quiet at that. What would he be doing now, if he was here? Would he still be speaking to Amy? Be back together with her? Or would they still be broken up? Would he have helped Cassie with this clue, or given her annoyingly superior hints, making her work for it?

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she’d never know the answer to these questions, that her brother’s future had been snatched away, just like that.

She closed her eyes against the threat of burning tears, just as her phone buzzed on the table. She slid it toward herself automatically, saw that it was a GoFundMe alert. The reminder of it, of the fact that she’d not managed to save the pub, made her feel heavy. Linda had been right. It wasn’t that easy, getting your hands on that kind of money. Not that Linda had made her feel bad about it.

You tried, she’d said when they’d last spoken. Tried, Cassie thought—and failed.

“It’s this thing,” she explained to Amy as she unlocked her phone. “Linda, our family friend, is about to lose her pub, and I’m trying to raise money so she can…” But she went silent, the words sticking in her throat. Because this was not just another small donation from a friend or family member, doing their best to help out.

Someone had just donated ten thousand pounds.

“Oh my God!” Cassie squealed and jumped to her feet, then sat back down again immediately, her whole body twitching, unable to keep still.

“What?” Amy asked sharply. “What is it?”

“Someone has just…” She shook her head, unable to articulate it, and turned her phone toward Amy so she could see for herself.

Amy gave a low whistle. “That’s megabucks.”

“I know.” Sudden adrenaline was pumping around her body, making it impossible to think straight. “Oh my God, Amy, I know, and I think it’s enough. All together, I think this is enough.” She sprang to her feet again. “Amy, it’s enough to save the pub!”

To her credit, Amy jumped on board immediately. “Amazing! This is the pub by your old house, right?”

“Right,” Cassie agreed, nodding reverently. “Exactly.”

“Who did it? Who donated all the money?”

Cassie frowned, looked down at her phone at the donation. But there was no name, no message. She looked back at Amy blankly. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Chapter Seventeen

Sam woke while it was still dark, took a moment to remember where he was, the room in Toby’s house still unfamiliar. It was silent around him—noticeable because he’d fallen asleep to the sound of music blaring in the living room, Toby having invited everyone to his place after the yacht. His head was pounding. He figured that was what had woken him. Jesus, he’d drunk too much last night. It had been easy, in the end, to slip into it, to let the party carry him away.

Next to him on the double bed, Sophia stirred, the sheet pulled up around her waist, leaving the rest of her sexy, curvy body on show. It had been so easy to go there with her, too. To flirt back, to kiss her, to let her take him by the hand, lead him to his room. Easy to fall back into old habits, to remember the dance he’d known so well, before Jessica.

Feeling oddly claustrophobic next to her on the bed, he threw the covers off, dressed as quietly as he could in his discarded clothes from the night before and padded from the room, slipping his phone off the bedside table as he did so. He headed for the kitchen, then out the double sliding doors.

It was cold. Really bloody cold outside at night, especially without a coat. He sucked in a breath, walked down over the perfectly mown lawn (by whom, Sam wasn’t sure—he’d never seen Toby do it), and headed to the fuck-off massive pool at the end of the garden. He sat on the nearest deck chair, staring at the water. There was just a sliver of a crescent moon tonight, half hidden by cloud, but wisps of moonlight still bounced off the water, in a way that was oddly soothing to watch.

He glanced at the time on his phone, did a quick calculation of the time difference. It would be morning now in the UK; his mum would be up and about, probably having a cup of tea. He called her and she answered immediately.

“Sam?”

“Hey, Mum. Sorry I missed your call yesterday.” He hadn’t noticed it, his phone on silent, sitting away from him.

“That’s OK. How are you, love?”

“I’m OK. I’m still in the Hamptons. It’s nice,” he added for her benefit. “I’m sitting by the pool right now.”

“Oooh, very fancy.” She was trying hard to keep her voice light, he could tell. “And are you doing…OK? I’ve been worried about you, out there all alone.”