Time Once More for Marilyn: Captivated & Rekindled Romance Read Online Free Page B

daughter on my weekends. It was a delight to see Sarah on this regular basis and watch her grow up. She had been five years old when her mother and I divorced, as she changed from a little girl to the cusp of her teen years she developed a character of her own, not just a reflection of her family. She was a younger version of her mother, which was good as Jane was a lovely looking woman, however Sarah exhibited one trait that pleased me immensely; she didn't like her grandmother, calling her 'the old scroat'.  She was always interested in my travels and listened spellbound as I told her of the places I had been, and hearing about the people I met. I obviously didn't mention the sexual liaisons I had, although she did ask occasionally some quite pointed questions. As if I was going to discuss my sex life with my eleven year old daughter? No, not at all.
                 
                  The travelling stopped when the company took onto the Board a new Marketing Director, Martin Clarke. He decided that he would visit our suppliers, ensuring that the quality of product we bought was up to scratch. I realised quite quickly that while he knew about marketing strategies he didn't understand the first thing about textile technology. That understanding came after a brief conversation with him when I mentioned the problem of tight selvedge's. He looked blank. Great, I thought, does he really know what to look for?  It was obvious that he wished to enjoy the jollies of the travel, whether or not he was qualified to do so. The M.D. was also dubious, but had been overruled by the Board. Instead, he told me in confidence that my position would undoubtedly become more important as our suppliers came to understand that they could get all sorts of rubbish past the Marketing Director. So he gave me carte blanche to examine any delivery of fabric from wherever and the right to reject any that I deemed not to standard. I now had my own department and a laboratory equipped to scientifically test the fabric weave, checking its tensile strength and the fastness of colour in the dyes. I envisaged battles royal with Clarke. I still went out to investigate complaints though.
                 
                  It was one day in April that we received a complaint from a retailer in Torquay. I spoke to the proprietor of the business, an Adrian Moore. He told me that the job was for a customer who had a large property and for whom he hoped to do a lot more work. This was a usual tactic to put pressure on me to accept the complaint. He was wasting his time as he should have known by now that we would be scrupulously honest in examining the problem. I got the customer's name, address and telephone number, promising to phone immediately. I did exactly that and arranged with the lady a time for the Tuesday the following week.
                 
                  I travelled down on the Monday and stayed overnight at a Travel Inn. I had over the years, collected a library of town and city street maps, but I didn't have one for Torquay, so first thing I did was to buy one. I discovered that the address was not actually in Torquay but well out of the town and appeared to be quite isolated, so I assumed that had to be a fairly upmarket property. The street map did not show the actual area, but combined with my normal road atlas I found the lane. A problem started to loom as I followed the lane winding around between high banks. There were not too many properties, but those that were there were isolated and all set well back from the lane. Apart from the entrance to a drive which vanished quite quickly between banks of foliage, none could be seen from the road. The difficulty was that few had name boards. It was getting close to my appointment time and I had a horror of arriving late, so I drove up to one of the properties to ask if they could direct me. The woman who answered the door appeared to be