Lizzie Marshall's Wedding Read Online Free PDF Page A

independence.
    She stopped in the doorway and half turned back to face him. ‘By the way, I’ve been meaning to say for some time, I prefer your hair like that, not slicked back as it was when you were at the bank. You’ve made a few changes since then.’
    ‘All for the better I hope.’
    Margaret ambled into the kitchen, filled the kettle then switched it on. ‘Speaking of Lizzie, have you heard from her recently?’
    Max shifted uncomfortably. ‘I didn’t know we were speaking of Lizzie. I thought we were speaking about a money-pit in some East Sussex back-wood.’
    ‘Beckleston village is not a back-wood, I can assure you darling, and the Hall, I think you’ll find, rather than being a money-pit may well turn into a money-spinner. Your father said I could always spot a sure thing.’
    Max couldn’t argue with that. He’d heard his parents’ rags to riches story enough times to know it by heart. His mother had been the financial genius and his father was smart enough to know it, and follow her lead.
    Margaret Bedford had persuaded her husband to invest his meagre earnings, first, in stock and later in property and they’d made a killing from both, often when others were losing money hand over fist.
    Royston Bedford often told his son, it was his mother’s brains that had got the family where they were and it was his mother’s brains that Max should consider his best inheritance. The fact that Royston had worked on all the properties himself and turned crumbling wrecks into little palaces enabling them to sell for many times the price the Bedfords had paid, Royston himself, considered of little importance.
    Margaret returned with a tea tray, full, as usual of cakes she’d baked, and bearing the teapot she had used for afternoon tea, for as long as Max could remember.
    ‘Well, have you?’
    ‘Have I what, mother dearest? And when are we to venture on this expedition to the back-woods?’
    ‘Don’t take that sarcastic tone with me, my boy. And don’t think you can avoid the question by changing the subject. Have you heard from Lizzie recently?’
    ‘Funnily enough, I have. And, unless I’m very much mistaken, my dear ex-wife has told you the good news too.’ He took the cup of tea she held out to him and grabbed a chocolate éclair from the tray.
    ‘Use a plate, Max.’
    He grinned, taking the plate she handed him and bit into the éclair. ‘Delicious as always, mother.’
    ‘Thank you dear. So ... is it ... good news?’ Margaret put her cup to her lips and waited, eyeing her son over the rim.
    ‘Yeah, I think so. It is as far as Lizzie’s concerned, and Jack’s a really nice, if somewhat too easy-going for my liking, kind of guy. I think they’ll be happy together. I hope so. She deserves to be happy.’
    ‘And you? Don’t you deserve to be happy too?’ She sipped her tea.
    ‘I’m very happy. This chocolate éclair is so good I may have to have another.’ He winked and grinned at her.
    ‘I’m serious Max.’
    ‘I know you are. Don’t worry about me. I’ll admit it’s taken me a while, but I’m over it – and I’m over her. I have no one to blame but myself, anyway.’
    ‘That doesn’t make it any easier darling. I didn’t think Lizzie would be getting married again so soon after your divorce. I’m not going to pretend it wasn’t your fault, because we both know it was, but I hate seeing you unhappy.’
    ‘I’m not. Honestly. I’m really not.’
    ‘So, which woman are you currently not being unhappy with? Or is that plural?’
    Max smirked. ‘Okay, so I see a lot of women. I tried the marriage gig and it didn’t work. I’m in no hurry to try it again. And, we’ve been divorced for two years now, mum, so Lizzie’s hardly rushing things.’
    ‘I still can’t believe how that all came about. Fate really does play the strangest games.’
    ‘I don’t believe in fate. That implies we don’t have free will. I think we make our own choices and hope it turns out for the