When she’d finished explaining, her aunt was beaming. ‘But that’s wonderful,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘You’ll have a wonderful meal in the most wonderful place and this man sounds—’
‘Wonderful?’ Cory interrupted wryly. There had been a sight too many wonderfuls as far as she was concerned. She was terrified, and here was her aunt acting as though she had just won the lottery or something.
‘I was going to say very reasonable,’ her aunt said reproachfully. ‘He could have shouted or caused a fuss after all. Lots of people would have, and in this day and age of everyone suing everyone else at the drop of a hat…’ She sighed, wagging her head in despair at the current trend. ‘And all this Mr Morgan did was to ask you out to dinner at the most fabulous place. I mean, what’s the problem?’
Put like that there wasn’t one, but then her aunt hadn’t seen Nick Morgan. Cory swallowed hard. ‘I don’t have a thing to wear,’ she prevaricated, but even to her own ears it sounded weak. ‘Not something that carries a million dollar label anyway.’
‘Is that all?’ The complacency was now most certainly of the Cheshire cat variety as Joan’s smile widened. ‘Darling go and see a friend of mine, Chantal Lemoine of Mayfair. She’ll fix you up.’
This wasn’t comforting. Cory loved her aunt—since her parents had died within a year of each other when she had been at university, her aunt was the only close relative she had—but Joan had never married and had made her career her life before she’d retired early at the age of fifty after a heart attack scare. She’d had a high-powered position in the world of fashion and hadn’t thought anything of spending an exorbitant amount on a simple skirt or top. Since leaving university four years ago Cory, on the other hand, had felt drawn to work in the sector of social care, something which involved long hours, stress and a merely adequate salary. A salary which didn’t lend itself to designer establishments.
Whether her aunt sensed what she was thinking Cory wasn’t sure, but the next moment the older woman had picked up the telephone saying, ‘I’m ringing Chantal, all right? It’s your birthday in a few weeks’ time and I didn’t have a clue what to get you. This is the perfect answer. You go and choose something absolutely outrageously expensive. You’ve been an angel to me since my fall and I want to thank you.’
‘I couldn’t, Aunty.’ Cory’s cheeks were pink.
‘You could and will.’ And then Joan’s expression and voice changed as she said softly, putting her hand on Cory’s arm, ‘Please, darling. For me. You’re the daughter I never had and you never let me spoil you. Just this once indulge me, eh?’
Cory wriggled uncomfortably. It was true she looked on her aunt more as a mother than anything else. In spite of being an only child she hadn’t been close to either of her parents, who had been so wrapped up in each other they hadn’t needed anyone else, not even their daughter. It had been a lonely and not particularly happy childhood in many respects, and her Aunt Joan had often been an oasis in the desert. Whether because of her childhood or perhaps just the way she was made, she’d always been reserved and independent, preferring to help rather than be helped and to give rather than receive.
‘Hello, could I speak to Miss Lemoine, please?’ Her aunt had taken her hesitation as a yes. When Cory went to speak Joan waved her to silence with a raised hand. ‘Chantal? Darling, how are you? It’s Joan.’ A few seconds and then, ‘Yes, we must as soon as this wretched leg of mine is better. Perhaps lunch at Roberto’s? Look, the reason I’m calling is to ask a favour. I’m sending Cory to you—you remember she’s my niece? She has a very special occasion tonight—at Templegate. Yes, I know, it’s very exciting. The thing is, she needs something really gorgeous and I thought you might be able to help. Could you see to her personally? Advise her on what suits her best? I’d come myself but with this leg…Oh, you’re a sweetheart. Two o’clock will be fine. Thanks so much, darling. And put it on my account, would you, this is a little birthday treat. Bye-bye, Chantal.’
The receiver replaced, her aunt beamed at her. ‘That’s settled then. Sweetheart, you’re going to