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Hannah replied. ‘I’d like you to plan, organise and execute the ball.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘Riley will help you with the creative side—help you pick the theme, do the design. You both have an amazing streak of creativity and I know that it will look visually spectacular.’
    Morgan shook her head, wishing she could speak freely and say exactly what was on her mind . I don’t do well with reading reports, writing reports, analysing spreadsheets. You know this! I’ve worked really hard to conquer my dyslexia, but it’s still there and it becomes a lot worse when I’m stressed. This ball will stress me out to the max! I don’t want to mess this up; it’s too important for me to be in charge of.
    Hannah’s eyes softened but determination radiated from her face. ‘Honey, I know that you will be fine. I know that you also have your own commissions, your own business to run, so the full resources that are available to me are available to you too. We’ll hire you a PA for this project; she’ll type your reports and be your general gopher. James will keep an eye on the finances and you’ll liaise with Jack regarding the promotion and advertising of the ball. Noah will draw up plans to keep the jewels safe, and I’ll be on the other end of a mobile. You just have to co-ordinate, make decisions, boss people about.’
    ‘You’re good at that,’ James inserted with an easy grin.
    And in a couple of sentences her mother, without announcing to the room that she had a problem reading and writing, waved away her biggest concerns.
    Morgan reluctantly pulled her hand out from Noah’s and flushed, because she could sense those deep blue eyes on her face. What must he think of her? she wondered. That she was a candidate for an upmarket loony bin?
    ‘Why are you bowing out, Hannah?’ Riley asked, as forthright as ever.
    Hannah picked up her pen and tapped the point on the stack of papers in front of her. Morgan saw a quick, secret smile on her face and frowned. It was a good question, and one she was sure she knew the answer to... Three, two, one...
    ‘I need a break—to step away from the business for a while.’
    There it is and here we go again... Morgan thought. Now they were getting to the bottom of things. Every ten years or so her parents decided that they should try and live together again. They loved each other, but they loved each other more when they had continents between them. They refused to accept that while they adored each other they just couldn’t live together. How many times had her father moved in and out of the Stellenbosch farmhouse and, later, the Englewood mansion?
    Morgan sent James a quick eye-roll and he responded with a faint smile.
    ‘Jedd and I have realised that we’ve been married nearly forty years and we want to spend more time with each other. He’s going to try to be a little less of a mad geologist and I’m going to accompany him on his travels. So I need you, Morgan, to organise the ball for me.’
    Morgan expelled her pent-up tension in a long stream of air. If this was about her parents’ marriage then she gave her mum a week and she’d be on the company jet back home. Hannah couldn’t go five minutes without checking her email or applying her lipstick. Her father spent weeks in jungles without making contact, sleeping in tents and hammocks and, she suspected, not washing much.
    A week, maybe two, and Hannah would be back and yanking the ball’s organisation into her beautifully manicured hands. Fine by her. She just had to ride it out.
    What a morning, Morgan thought. Noah, the ball, her parents; she felt as if she was in sensory and information overload.
    ‘Right, down to business,’ Hannah said sharply.
    Morgan frowned and held up her hand. ‘Whoa! Hold on, there, Mum.’ Morgan narrowed her eyes at her beautiful, wilful mother. If she gave her mother an inch, she’d gobble her up. ‘I will sit in on this first planning meeting and then I will decide how involved I