Read The Pollyanna Plan for Free Online Page A

once his father retired—would make it obvious that from now on Will was living life on his own terms. Instead, his dad had only pressed more, saying that focusing on work was exactly what Will needed and he shouldn’t let ‘a flighty girl he was better off without’ dictate the future.
    Will had wanted to retort it was hardly Cherie dictating the course of his future, but he’d bitten his tongue. Over the years, he’d learned there was no point arguing with his domineering father unless it was really necessary.
    ‘No, Dad,’ Will said now, conscious he was clutching the phone so strongly that his hand was shaking. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax. ‘I’ll be working the rest of the day. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.’ And before his father could respond, Will hung up.
    He stared at the receiver for a second, trying to get his thoughts in order. How could he make it clearer he didn’t ever want to be CEO of Ballard Paints? That given his diagnosis of multiple sclerosis earlier this year, it was best if he wasn’t, anyway? According to the doctor, sooner or later, his condition would flare, and he’d deteriorate over time. Will wasn’t going to spend the rest of his able life shoved behind a desk analysing sales reports. He’d already given up his dream of art school to waste years doing just that.
    When Cherie had left and the reality of the diagnosis finally sunk in, Will had decided part-time work at Home & Hearth was perfect. It was miles from his father’s company where everyone knew him as the boss’s son with ‘that terrible illness’, fixing him with sympathetic glances and asking in a loaded voice how he felt. Here, he was another anonymous shop floor employee, a role he enjoyed. The job wasn’t too tiring, and Will loved helping customers transform their living spaces. Now, if he could only find the motivation to concentrate on his artwork again …
    Sighing, Will mustered up the energy to head onto the shop floor. Two more hours, and he could be back on the boat. His spirits lifted as he pictured the dilapidated, narrow boat he’d renovated bit by bit. Inside, there was barely enough room to stand, but the isolation of the enclosed space and the gentle rocking of Regent’s Canal, where the boat was moored, soothed his soul.
    If only his father would believe Will was through with the family business, his new life would be set. Judging by that phone call, though, there was still a long way to go.

CHAPTER SIX
    T he next morning, Emma stared at the stark white walls of her flat, excitement churning inside. No more would this place resemble a hospital! She couldn’t wait to get a bit of colour in here. Goodness knows, she needed something to lift her spirits after failing to find any new job postings last night, despite spending hours scouring the Internet.
    Right—first things first. She’d throw on grubby clothes, put down drop cloths, tape the floorboards .… Ah, what the hell, she thought, impatiently levering open the paint tin. She’d bought an industrial-sized vat of paint thinner; she was already wearing her one and only semi-grubby outfit; and she’d paint as carefully as possible . Living dangerously! Alice would be so proud.
    Emma smiled as the blue colour met her eyes, and memories of Will’s serious expression as he mixed the paint flashed through her mind. He really was handsome—not normally her type—but there’d been something about him …
    Enough swooning. Time to get started! After switching on the radio to banish the heavy silence, the tinny sounds of a female opera singer shrieking like a stuck pig filled the air. Emma pulled a face. The last time George had been in her flat—a couple of months ago now—he’d reprogrammed all her stations, saying listening to classical music would put her in the right frame of mind to compute accurately and quickly, increasing productivity by at least 10 percent. In favour of anything to help her