Convenience

Part 15

It was six weeks after that faithful meeting at the hotel that David showed up at her doorstep.

One short car journey with the assistance of GPS, and he was driving south from Auckland, heading for her place. Just over a couple of hours from Auckland, he found himself taking an unsealed road which eventually came to an end at a large detached home.

He'd never been here before, and wasn't sure quite what he was expecting. But he hadn't been expecting this. Surely she'd want to ensure that he didn't get his hands on this. This was her home. A substantial home. But she hadn't blinked when he'd threatened to divorce her and seek half her assets.

What was it that she was hiding that led her to believe she could take him on and win? Why had he chosen to make this personal, to do the legwork, to come out and see exactly what was going on? The fact that she frequently popped up in his head for no apparent reason had convinced him that the only way to get her out of his head, was to bring this matter to a close. So she was different to the woman he had married, that did not mean he was interested in her. Not in that way.

David leaned on the doorbell. It rang and rang. He could hear it. But he got no answer. Typical he thought.

With his temper starting to rise he scanned the front of the house and decided to follow the path that ran along the front and round to the side. When David rounded the side of the house he spotted a converted shed. It appeared to house a hive of activity given the number of windows and boxes. This place was a lot bigger than he was expecting. Surely she wouldn't want him to have access to half of this. He could seize it. Yet she hadn't replied to his threat. He'd checked with his solicitors. The letter was signed for. So David knew the letter had reached Beatrice. It wasn't lost. She had simply chosen not to respond.

"Hello!" David called loudly, hoping that the place was not as deserted as it appeared to be at the moment. He stalked toward a door that looked open. Someone must be around. They wouldn't leave the place open and unattended.

A head popped out from one of the other open doors. "Can I help you?" Said a young woman as she stepped more fully into the courtyard. David smiled as he took stock of the woman. Young. Maybe just out of her teens. Probably the same age Beatrice had been when she married him. The young woman smiled. Which made him wonder, had Beatrice ever smiled at him?

He smiled with open charm, walked forward a few more steps and said, "I'm looking for Mrs Cardoso." How odd it sounded, to say his surname and be looking for his wife. Then he found himself saying her name in full, and liking the sound of it. "Beatrice Cardoso." He said when the woman just carried on watching him although her smile had wobbled. Surprise? Or Alarm. He wasn't sure. But at least he was going to track his wife down. With his hands in his jean pockets he strolled forward, meeting the young woman half way as she came toward him.

She smiled confidently at him. "Beatrice isn't here at the moment." The young woman finally announced. She was casually dressed in shorts and t shirt, and her eyes were taking stock of his attire. She smiled, though, from what he could see, the smile was now somewhat cautious. It was obvious that she was trying to figure out who he was and what he was doing here.

David wasn't sure whether he was being given the run around. "I see." Came the cool response, that in many a boardroom had been sufficient warning to others to back up.

"She'll be back soon. I think." The young woman told him, totally oblivious to David's frame of mind. His shoes were expensive, she thought, as if that made a lot of difference to the situation. She recognised the logo on his shirt. Ok, lots of money, she thought and wondered whether he was going to send some business in this direction. Beatrice had lots of celebrity clients, maybe this man represented someone famous.

"How soon?" He asked suavely, hoping his charm would continue to impress the young woman into supplying the much needed information.

The young woman shrugged and then frowned as she thought about it. "Maybe lunch time." She could of course go and check Beatrice's diary. But something told her not to bother. She wondered about this stranger. Should she be giving out this information?